Home > Boyfriend for Hire (Escorts, Inc. #1)(10)

Boyfriend for Hire (Escorts, Inc. #1)(10)
Kennedy Ryan

I watch Nic’s hands on the wheel for a moment, then take in his profile. His strong jaw is even more pronounced in profile, highlighted in the dim lights of the car, and I can still feel the roughness of his facial hair from our kiss. Unable to resist, I slide a hand onto Nic’s thigh as he drives.

“Hey, I thought we were trying to distract ourselves,” he says, swallowing hard. “What’s your favorite season?”

“Hmm . . .” I move my hand up his thigh. “Fall. You?”

I glance at the bulge in his pants, and if it’s any indication, I’d say he’s very well endowed. I can tell he’s trying to focus on the road, but his chest is moving up and down rapidly.

“You’re going to make me crash,” he says finally.

I give him a sly smile and move my hand even higher up his leg.

“Jesus.” He huffs out a breath and presses the gas harder, then glances at me. “I might have underestimated you. You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea.” I grin, stroking his thigh.

Something about being with Nic is freeing; I’m feeling totally uninhibited for the first time in a long time. Just touching his thigh has me so hot and bothered, I can barely stand it. If he can make me feel this way without even touching me, I can only imagine what he can do with all our clothes off.

Luckily, the reception venue was close to my place, and Nic makes it there in record time. My legs still feel weak with desire, and I try to focus on opening my front door without dropping my keys.

As I turn on the lights, I mentally congratulate myself for having the foresight to clean my apartment before I left this morning. As Nic takes in the space, I look around the room, trying to see it through his eyes.

With a car like he has, I can only imagine he lives in one of the amazing high-rises downtown. I don’t make a ton of money, so my place is pretty modest, but I’ve done what I can to make it comfortable.

“Nice place,” he says, turning to me with a smile.

“It’s okay.” I shrug, setting my purse on the side table. “I want to move soon.”

“I’m serious. I really like it,” he says, grinning at me. “It feels like a real home, you know? I’ve gotten too used to my bachelor pad, but it’s just that, a place to sleep.”

I smile, and for a moment I wonder how many women he brings to that bachelor pad.

Shaking my head, I chastise myself. Why am I even thinking about that now? And who cares, anyway? This whole night is about me having fun, casual sex, and the number of women Nic has slept with isn’t any of my business.

“Do you want something to drink?” I head toward the kitchen.

“I’m okay,” he says, moving to the side table where I keep old family photos.

Shit. I should have hidden those.

“Is this you?” he asks, his tone amused as he holds up a framed photo of me as a kid. It was during a phase where I wanted to be a magician, and I was in a full tux and top hat, holding up a stuffed rabbit.

Fucking awesome.

I move across the room and grab the photo, heat rising into my cheeks. “Can we save the trip down memory lane for another time?” I don’t think having Nic see photos of me in my awkward pre-teen phase is the right way to kick off our one-night stand.

“It’s cute.” He grins at me. “So, you went to law school and can pull a rabbit out of a hat. Any other hidden talents?”

Wouldn’t you like to know?

I set the photo facedown on the table and grab Nic’s hand, tugging him toward me. I don’t want him to think I’m cute; I want him to fuck my brains out. And I think we’ve waited long enough.

I step closer until our bodies are almost touching, and he gazes down on me, his dark eyes finding mine. He’s freaking delicious—certainly unlike any man I’ve ever dated. Seeing him standing next to Jeremy was almost comical. Where my ex is all gangly limbs and an ill-fitting suit, Nic commands attention with his height and broad shoulders. It’s like he was cut from a GQ Magazine.

I swallow, suddenly unsure about how he’s feeling, and wish I didn’t have quite so much to drink tonight. Doubt creeps into the edges of my brain. Nic hasn’t pounced on me, hasn’t made a move yet, but he did kiss me back . . .

“Are you sure you want this?” I ask tentatively.

He takes a step closer and places my palm against the front of his pants. “Does that feel like I’m unsure, Elle?”

My throat closes. Holy shit, the man is rock hard. For me. The thought is dizzying.

Damn, I need this so much. I didn’t know it until this exact moment, but something about his undivided attention, his focus on me, is somehow repairing the destruction Jeremy left behind. Nic knows what he wants, and somehow that’s me. His attention feels so good, I may just black out before we get to the main event.

Taking two steps forward, he backs me up against the wall, still staring into my eyes. He moves his hands up my arms, trailing his fingers gently over my bare skin. I shiver, totally consumed by him—his dark, smoldering eyes and the feel of his hands on me.

When he reaches my shoulders, he moves his hands lower, trailing light touches along my collarbone. I let out a little moan, arching my back toward him, desperate for his hands on my breasts. He smirks as he takes his hands off of me, still staring into my eyes, and I squirm with desire. He’s teasing me, and it’s totally working.

“You’re so sexy,” he whispers, placing his hands on my hips and kissing along my neck.

I can feel how wet I am already just from this little bit of attention. There’s an ache between my legs for him, and I’m practically shaking with need. I wrap my arms around him and pull him in for another kiss.

He tugs my hips tight against him as his tongue enters my mouth hungrily. I can feel the large bulge in his pants pressing into me, and it just ramps up my desire. My heart pounds against his, and he presses himself even closer so that I’m pushed completely against the wall. His hands move to my breasts, cupping them through my dress, and he brushes his fingertips over my hardening nipples.

I’m so overwhelmed, and when I open my eyes, the room is spinning. I don’t know if it’s Nic or the champagne or both, but suddenly, I feel like I need to take a breather.

“Wait,” I say, breathing hard as I pull back. As his eyes search mine, I swallow and push him away. “I’ll be right back.”

I walk to the bathroom, thinking I just need to splash some water on my face. I glance back at Nic before I shut the bathroom door, and he’s still breathing heavily, watching me with that same conflicted look on his face from earlier.

Alone in the bathroom, I take a deep breath. I don’t know why Nic looks so conflicted, or why Christine tried to stop me from doing this. All I know is that no other guy has ever made me feel this way before, and I don’t think I could stop now . . . even if I wanted to.

Chapter Eight

Nic

What the fuck am I doing?

Standing in the middle of Elle’s bedroom like an idiot, that’s what.

I can’t believe I came inside. I should have just dropped her off and gone back to my place. But now here I am, more turned on than I have been in months, and waiting for the girl I want to come back from the bathroom so we can finish what we started the moment we got through the door. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where that action is heading.

What was I thinking?

Pushing my hands through my hair, I start pacing the room.

Maybe there’s still a way out of this. My dick won’t be happy about it, but I can tell Elle I’d rather take things slow. Give her a kiss good-bye and be done with it. Once she’s done in the bathroom, I’ll gather all the self-control I have and shut this down. It’s the only option.

As I pass by the bathroom door, I can hear Elle coughing. The sound doesn’t stop, and when I realize she’s retching, my stomach drops. This is my fault. She told me she was a lightweight. Told me that she never drank very much. I should have kept a closer eye on her, made sure she didn’t drink too much.

I rush through the door and find her hunched over the toilet, and the helpless look on her face makes my heart ache. With one hand, I pull her hair away from her face, holding it loosely between her shoulder blades. I use the other to rub the straining muscles on her back, tense from vomiting.

Elle takes one look at me and starts sobbing, tears streaming down her face. “Oh my God, Nic, I’m so sorry. I should have been better than this. It’s just that I, like, never drink,” she says between breaths.

“Don’t apologize. This shit happens to everyone every once in a while,” I reply, brushing a few stray hairs away from her face.

She sniffles and nods, mustering a weak smile before flushing the toilet and rising to her feet. I help her to the sink, where she brushes her teeth.

When she’s done, I carry her back to her room and seat her on the edge of her bed. Once she’s settled, I go to the kitchen and bring her a tall glass of water and a bottle of aspirin, placing them on her bedside table.

Her watchful gaze follows me, and I’m relieved that at least my straining erection has died down.

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