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“Paid. Five hundred dollars. More, if they wanted me to be… creative.”
I wait for his gaze to fall away, for the respect and admiration to change into disgust. I’ve only made the mistake once of admitting such things to a man who didn’t already know. He had potential, and then when he found out…
I never spoke to him again. He walked out, and left me sitting at a bar with a hefty tab. He said he was sure I could pay for it… one way or another.
My lips tighten into a line. Why am I talking about this? Max knows all about me already. He’ll be turned off soon enough.
“But were you satisfied?” he demands.
I make a noise in my throat. When men paid for sex, they didn’t care if you were satisfied. Never expect it, and make sure you have your own way to get off—with them, or when you get home. Clients want a scene and they want you not to cry.
That’s what I told the new girls who came to work for E.
I meet Max’s gaze straight on. “I faked. Always. I never once let a man who paid for me have the satisfaction of making me come.”
“That’s a shame,” Max says. “If I was with a woman like you, even if I paid money for the opportunity, I would do everything in my power to make you come, and come, and come again.”
His voice drops, grows husky as he says the words. I have trouble swallowing because I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have Maximus Steele between my legs.
I can have him if I want—right now, even. I can slip my pants off, sit here across from him with my legs open and wait for him to use his fingers.
I can do whatever I want with him.
We stare at each other, each waiting for the other to make the move.
“I think I’m going to kiss you sometime this weekend,” Max announces.
I do my best to ignore the thrill that courses through me. “Oh, you think so, do you?”
“I do. I’ve wanted to see how you taste from the first moment I saw you.”
Taste. He wants to taste me. He wants to kiss me.
It takes a lot to mask my expression so that Max doesn’t know what that does to me.
What he does to me, because I don’t understand it. How is he able to make me feel… things?
“When you were drunk and wouldn’t get out of the elevator?” I ask in a cool voice.
Something crosses his face. “Before that.”
“When you watched me in the restaurant?”
“I guess you can say I’ve got a crush. I’m infatuated with you. A smitten kitten.” He seems so proud of that fact, like it's something to brag about. Maximus Steele has a crush on Cady Quinn. That isn’t anything to be proud of.
“From watching me eat?” I ask in a skeptical voice.
“You’re a very sexy eater.”
That’s when I know. “You’ve seen me dance, haven’t you?”
Max closes his eyes and I don’t know how I want him to respond. Would I rather him lie, and have that hanging between us, or tell me the truth and live with the embarrassment? “I was nineteen,” he says in a quiet voice. “A few of my father’s friends thought they should take me out for my birthday. We went to the Spider’s Den.”
I close my eyes and wait for the humiliation to wash over me.
Only it never comes. “How old are you?” I ask.
“I turned thirty-four two months ago.”
