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I’d been doing that for a long time. Too long.
I was Cole Bryson’s escort. Heownedme; I was his. That in and of itself wasn’t a problem, although as I’d lain there, I realized there absofuckinglutely was a problem.
Theproblemwas that I’d just had an orgasm. An intense one. With a client. And it had been easy, no manual stimulation required.
That had never happened to me before. Never as in, neverever.
And… I’d lost myself for a moment. I couldn’t help it—the control I prided myself on had evaporated during our sex. That control, that vestige of clarity, was the secret part of me that no one else knew about. Not my clients, not Elena, not even Audrey.
I never let myself lose control ofmyself. It was the only thing I had left. My dignity, my pride, my sense of safety—I’d let all of those things go a long time ago. When you grew up the way I did, you learned real quick that survival trumped everything else. And survival meant staying aware. It meant not trusting anyone a hundred percent, not ever, not deep in your heart. It meant always keeping a little bit of distance. It meant staying aware no matter what—even if my eyes were closed and I was pretending what was happening wasn’t happening. It meant protecting your heart at all costs.
I’d slipped a little, just alittle, in Cole Bryson’s big, fabulous bed. Maybe it was because of his big, fabulous cock, or the fact that he’d made me laugh, or the way he’d casually thrown his arm around me and made me feel like a billion bucks. Maybe it was all the money I was earning.
Maybe.
Or maybe it was something else.
Either way, I knew that I had to be vigilant. I liked watching Cole as he slept. I liked his big bed and his big cock. I likedhim.
But that didn’t mean I was ever going to let myself slip again.
COLE
Jenny was sleepingwhen I woke up and staggered into the shower. My limbs were loose, my thoughts lazy and slow.
The escort had literally rocked my world.
And I didn’t mean just the sex, although that was certainly part of it. I was extremely attracted to her. Our sex had been explosive, natural, and instinctual. Somehow, Jenny knew just how to touch me.
Maybe that’s because she’s an escort, dumbass.
Maybe. Probably. And yet, it seemed more like we were actually connecting. Physicallyandon another level. Jenny made me laugh. When we’d gone to Alfonso’s, she’d cracked me up with her reaction to the octopus. She was genuine, and it was a breath of fresh air.
Everyone I dated was calculating—making sure they said the right thing at the right time. But Jenny wasn’t like that. She said what she thought, and although I’m sure she probably came from a tough background, she didn’t seem ashamed of herself. She wasn’t putting on airs or pretending to be someone she wasn’t—well, except for the fact that she was pretending to work with underprivileged kids and faking that she was my girlfriend.Still, there was something about her. Something special, a spark that I hadn’t encountered before.
Easy, bro,I chided myself.She’s your hired date. You don’t have to get sloppy over this girl.
I wouldn’t get too attached to her—I knew better than that. She was Ms. Right for Right Now, and I was thrilled that James had given me her name. These were going to be the best two weeksever.
My phone pinged while I was in the shower. There were several texts from my father’s assistant, Kevin. My old man wasn’t great with technology, so he often barked at poor Kevin to do his dirty work, dictating nasty messages at all hours.
Your Father wanted me to send you these messages. My (standing) apologies. - Kevin
Why haven’t you called Ramos? I’m still waiting on these damn approvals!
No more excuses. So tired of your BS.
Fuck,I’d forgotten about his demand.
Tell him I got tied up with something at work. I’ll call him this afternoon.
I glared at my phone, wanting to throw it into the toilet, or better yet, out the window and into the harbor below. All my father cared about was business. I didn’t even know why anymore—he already had all the money in the world. I wasn’t sure why I even bothered thinking about the why; he was a lost cause, bitter and angry ever since my mother died when I was a kid.
Ever since I was little, he’d made it clear that he resented raising me alone. He was angry all the time—angry at life, angry at me, maybe even angry at my mom for daring to get cancer and leave us. Anyone else would’ve remarried, moved on, and tried to salvage what remained of his life. But my father wasn’t anyone else. He channeled his rage into his business, as if throwing more money onto his pile of billions would somehow make everything—or anything—better. He sometimes also channeled his rage at me, the son who failed to mention his father in hisForty Under Fortyarticle, along with various other grievances.
I didn’t call Ramos. Instead, I wrapped a towel around my waist and headed back to the bedroom. We had to get ready to meet James and Audrey for drinks, but I needed something first.
Something to take my mind off things.