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Maybe that’s the problem. As I catch myself staring at him again, admiring his taut ass in those jeans, the long legs, the strong line of his back and the glossy dark brown hair, I decide that’s why. I’m not used to feeling attracted to customers.
But it doesn’t matter. I need the money. I need to pay Simon, and eat, and pay for Adam’s ticket out of town. No shame in it.
And yet , as we approach his pick-up truck and he glances at me, I find myself sweating, my face and neck too hot. My cheeks are burning, and my dick is getting hard, just like Raine’s was before.
It bothers me.
Which is nuts. It has always bothered me that I can’t get fully hard with sex, though over the years I sorta came to terms with it. With Raine, though… It troubles me that I get excited. And it annoys me that I can’t get it up all the way.
Even if I’d probably panic if I did. Christ, talk about a Catch Twenty-two.
It doesn’t help that my heart is pounding like I’m about to have a fucking heart attack when Raine’s arm slides around me, and he walks me the rest of the way to the passenger door.
Why do I have shivers skittering up and down my spine? The good kind of shivers, the kind that shoot straight to my balls and make me stare at his lips like a starving man.
I turn, and we’re chest to chest, and damn, his mouth is right there, and I want… I want more than I’ve ever wanted before.
His hand lands on the truck beside me, and he leans in, pressing his hard-on into my hip. “Ready?” he whispers.
His mouth trails on my jaw for a second, and my whole body tightens, zapped by electric shots that lead—where else?—to my dick. His scent makes my mouth water.
“Yeah.” I’m so fucking ready. For anything. For more.
He yanks the door open and draws back to smirk at me. “Then get inside.”
Mute, I watch his broad back as he walks away, vanishing around the truck. The driver’s door opens and closes.
Fucking cocktease.
My dick aches as I climb inside the truck, and my head is spinning. I glance at him, and he’s busy revving up the engine and pulling off the curb. His profile is a dark outline, and the way the muscles shift in his forearms as he turns the wheel, fucking God… so damn hot.
He tosses me a wink as he eases into traffic, and I just stare at him, my mouth dry, my pants way too tight.
Oh yeah, I’m so fucked.
By the time we stop and I get out of his pick-up, I’m more or less under control. He doesn’t take my hand or put his arm around me, and it’s better that way. No mixed signals. They always get me confused.
Or does it mean he’s upset with me?
Why should that matter, anyway? I carefully avoid looking at him as we ride up the elevator to his floor, and he unlocks the door to his apartment.
“Come on in,” he says, flashing me a smile, and fuck, if it wasn’t for the money in my pocket, I’d think we’re on a date or something.
Yeah, talk about mixed signals.
Okay, Jason. Work time. Stop fucking around. And with that thought, I feel a smirk pull at my lips and a calm descend over me.
Much better.
“Why sure. Since you ask so nicely.” I saunter inside as if I don’t have a care in the world and unzip my jacket. “Where do you want it?”
Yeah, so much better. I’m back in control. Not like before, on the street.
Or like last time, here, when he washed me, and fed me, and held me like something precious. When he told me I was worth it.
Fuck.
“Want what?” Raine closes the door and rakes a hand through his hair, then tugs at his jacket sleeves.
