Page 52 of Pretty Mess

He looks a little wild, his chest rising and falling quickly and his cock straining against his trousers.

He licks his lips, dragging his eyes from where they’re devouring me. “I need to discuss something with you.”

“Now?”

My incredulity seems to amuse him and some of his usual control settles back on his shoulders. “I’d like to discuss the option of going without condoms.”

Oh. This is so far from anything that I was imagining that my jaw drops.

He shifts his weight. “Have you been stricken dumb? What a joyful day,” he snaps.

“No. I mean, yes. Well, a bit.”

“Oh dear. It’s just babbling incoherence, then.”

I laugh and then lean against the back of the sofa. “So, no condoms?”

“Yes. I believe you’re tested regularly, as am I.”

“Of course. That’s the rule, isn’t it? I have your results on my phone next to your love notes and marriage proposals.” He rolls his eyes, and I grin at him. “Besides, I’ve only been with you since we met.”

A cynical look crosses his face, but it’s gone almost as soon as I saw it. “You’ll forgive me, but I don’t trust anyone that easily,” he says grimly.

That stings. I always tell the truth, but I dismiss my instinctive reaction because he’s right not to trust people in this situation.

“How do you usually handle this conversation with the other men from the club?”

He stares at me, reluctance written all over his face. “It’s never been addressed with anyone else,” he says grudgingly.

Something like delight rushes through me.

It must show because he holds up his hand and says, “No to whatever ridiculous idea is filling your head this time.”

“Thistime?”

“I don’t want a dissertation on motives,” he says briskly. “Just whether you’re willing. I will, of course, pay extra for the privilege.”

“What?”

“Of course. It’s customary, I believe.”

“Not in my world.” I shake my head. “You already pay me an obscene amount of money, and now you’re keeping me in a beautiful flat. Of course, you won’t be paying me extra. The thought,” I scoff.

His eyebrow rises. “You’re saying you don’t want extra money?” he says slowly.

“Honestly, I’d have done you bareback for free.”

He groans. “Haven’t we discussed these foolish offers of yours? You need to be savvier in the future if you enter another arrangement.”

Another arrangement.He carries on talking, but his words become background noise. Would I ever have this “arrangement” with anyone else in the future? Would I carry on being a prostitute after Cormac is done with me?

I can’t imagine it. I wouldn’t need the money, not with my spectacularly replenished bank account. And I certainly wouldn’t do this with any other man. In fact, the idea sends a deep shudder from my spine to my toes.

Oh shit. I have feelings for Cormac, don’t I? I’m here in this flat, listening to him hand down unwanted and utterly arrogant advice, because I genuinely like him, and I want to know him better. Not just better—no, I’m obsessed enough to want to know everything.

I choke down a laugh when I imagine his face if I told him all this. If I badgered him with the personal questions I’m dying to ask.What was your childhood like, Mac? What’s your favourite breakfast cereal?

“Hello. Earth to Wes. Why do you have that smirk on your face?”