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I tightened my grip.
“Jarod!” She shrieked, her dripping sheath like a vise grip on my cock.
Hissing through my clenched jaw, I rode her orgasm out until she whimpered, shuddering beneath me.
“One more, sweet girl,” I rasped and reached for her clit again.
“Oh, shit,” she breathed, blinking up at me, pupils blown and lips parted.
Drown, my mind whispered, tempting me to let loose in every aspect, to hand over my heart on a fucking platter.
Christine gave in with a loud groan, her clutching inner walls pulling on me.
I released control over my body only, and my climax readied by tingling up through my legs into my tight-as-hell balls. Spunk erupted from my shaft, filling the condom.
Jesus Christ… Christine…
I swallowed hard, refusing to call out her name, to show vulnerability I couldn’t spare. Cursing instead, I jolted with an aftershock, resting my body fully against hers. Forehead to forehead, both heaving for breath, we inhaled the other’s exhales.
The scent of cum and sweet honeysuckle filled my nose, the rapid beat of her heart in time with mine as though wrapped around one another, dismissing the skin and bone separating them. Too sated at that moment to care, I allowed the moment to linger, soaking in the sense of rightness, the warmth of being held in her arms.
Our eyes opened at the same time, and I lifted my head slightly to drink her in.
Her green eyes, sated and hazed by passion, reached through whatever barriers I thought I’d held against emotion. A fucking hammer slammed me in the sternum, ripping a grunt from my lungs.
What. The. Fuck.
My eyebrows furrowed, and her gaze cleared, became guarded.
An invisible shield slammed into place—on both our parts.
She smiled, but the upturned lips appeared forced. “I need another beer.”
I rolled off her without a word, hand on my chest, focused on the ceiling while trying to ease the strange ache beneath my palm. What the fuck had happened? And why did her shutting me out hurt even though I’d done the exact same thing to her?
My attention roamed to her backside as she padded across the floor and bent to pick up her clothing, her round ass and thighs making my mouth water. I still had enough gas left in my tank to take her for another ride even though I’d busted a nut like I hadn’t done in a long-ass time.
I had almost groaned her name while blowing my load— something I’d never done with any woman, had never even been tempted to do. I scratched my fingers along my chest, baffled. Thoroughly concerned and yet determined to stride through until the end, I lay there for a few moments longer.
Three times, I’d promised Elite’s client.
Christine wanted impersonal?
I would give her one last fuck she would never forget, without a single emotion to confuse either of us. Hell, it was what I got paid for, what Micah trusted me to do.
And I aimed to please regardless of the unease slithering down my spine.
Chapter 11
Christine
After tossing my dirty clothes in the hamper, I grabbed a long Pats T-shirt from a drawer and tugged it on—all without glancing at my bed and the beautiful slab of man-beef that had just rocked my world. I needed to straighten my head out.
He’s an escort. He gets paid to fuck like that—the shared breaths, emotional gazes bullshit. He’s not the guy I need to fall for.
I grabbed a beer from the fridge and gulped the cold bitterness until the lack of oxygen released my lips from the bottle’s rim. Mind turning to my growling stomach, I rifled through my near-empty cabinets.
The shuffling of feet announced Jarod’s arrival behind me.