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“You’re empathetic and compassionate. Giving.”
She narrowed her gaze. “You’ve been talking to Reid.”
“Nope.”
“But you’re aware I paid for his night with Jessica.”
“I didn’t need to know that to see the softness in your eyes when that elderly woman shuffled past us on the sidewalk.”
Her eyebrows furrowed, eyes growing a bit stormy—concerned. “She shouldn’t have been out walking alone like that even if she was just waiting for a cab.”
“Agreed.”
Christine finished off her beer, and I took the empty bottle from her. “I’m not looking forward to getting old,” she murmured.
“You’re not a vain person,” I stated what I’d also learned about Christine in our short time together.
Her eyebrow shot up again as though surprised by my assumption. “It’s more the frailty and being unable to care for myself is what I can’t stand the thought of.”
“I think most people feel that way,” I murmured, setting her bottle aside.
“God.” She grimaced and glanced out the window as Ricky eased off the gas and entered the ramp taking us off Route 1. “Enough of the morbid. Talk dirty to me.”
That, I could definitely do.
Chapter 7
Christine
Jarod’s hot breath ghosted over my ear as he gathered my hair up, gently tucking the heavy mass around my shoulder, out of his way. Once more inhaling like an animal, he ran his nose along my neck as though desperate to draw my scent deep into his lungs.
“You smell sweet like honeysuckle.”
A shiver raised the hairs on my arms, and I tilted my head, my eyelids fluttering closed. “And you smell like my pussy.”
He chuckled and made an appreciative noise under his breath. Neck kisses followed, gentle nips of his teeth grazing over my sensitive skin. Quiet moans rumbled in his chest as he feasted on my throat.
The man was absolutely divine, talented in ways I’d never experienced.
He made me weak, and I sagged against the seat as Jarod’s mouth once more found my ear.
“You’re infectious,” he murmured, sending another scuttle of rising bumps across my forearms. Tugging my legs, he shifted me until I half sat on his lap. “All this silky skin…” Fingertips trailed over my knee and upward to toy with the edge of my skirt. “And freckles.” He touched a few of the hundreds scattered over my thigh. “Fucking hell, woman, you’re sexy as sin. Can’t wait to have your long legs wrapped around my back.”
I let out a moan, shuddering as he sucked my lobe between his lips.
“I’ll sink into your tight heat. Fill you up. Make you scream and come on my dick.”
“Oh, God.” I gulped. “Stop, or I’m going to leave a wet spot on your jeans.”
“Mmm.” He groaned, his exhale hot in my ear. “Another article of clothing for me to sniff later while I’m jerking off to fantasies about owning your body again.”
Shit, the man fucking slayed me—and he wasn’t even touching me except for that small circle he drew on my thigh with a single fingertip and the soft blush of his lips over my lobe while speaking. “You’re dangerous,” I whispered, not having intended to let the thought fly.
“Mmm.” He nosed along my neck again.
“Fucking hell, Jarod.” I whined my response, ready to sink into a puddle of want. I’d never known such chemistry. All those mouths that had come before him, every whispered word of lust I’d heard before had never taken me to the edge of desperation. And I’d already climaxed twice in the past hour.
He was a professional. An escort. Fucked for cash.