Page 52 of The Cartographer

It takes him a second, but then he’s looking up at me through narrowed eyes. “You’ve slept with women?”

“That’s surprising?”

“Uh, yeah. You kind of seem like a gold star gay.”

I snort, which is incredibly indecorous, so I make up for it with an indolent wave of my hand. “Occupational hazard.”

Hart’s brows crumple, a line forming in his flawless skin. “Wait, what? You fuck your clients?”

“Sometimes. Not all of them.” I shrug. It’s not really a big deal.

“You fuck people for money?”

“No,” I clarify, “though some of the best people I know in this world are sex workers, so you need to tread carefully. I train people for money, and sometimes having sex is part of that. I also happen to beat the shit out of people, teach them to cook, and listen to them talk, among other things. I hardly think sex is the strangest part of my job.”

He considers this for minutes, and I let him. It’s easy enough because he’s rested his head on my chest again. It’s possible he’ll fall asleep before he figures out how he feels about this, though it’s also possible his mind’s too busy for that. Eventually he rolls up and looks me in the face. “Have you had sex with anyone else since you met me?”

Not a question I particularly want to answer, but what the hell. “No. Why? Would you like to be informed if I do? That’s a reasonable ask.”

“No, I…I guess I’m a little thrown, that’s all.”

“It’s not every day you meet someone who has my job.”

“No, it’s not. Have you ever…fallen in love with any of them? Your clients, I mean? Seems like it’d be easy to do.”

You’d think so. “I haven’t. I mean, I have a great deal of affection for many of my clients, but I’ve never felt the need to settle down with any of them. Playing for keeps isn’t my MO. I did, however, train the person I’ve ever come closest to marrying.”

“Oh, yeah? Do I want to know what he was like?” There’s a teasing lift of his eyebrow, but I think he really is curious. Boy is he going to be surprised. Thing is, he could see for himself, and wouldn’t that be fun? It’s something I find myself wanting, and what’s the harm in offering? He may well say no.

“Actually, I’m supposed to have dinner with her, her husband, and a couple of other friends of ours next week. You could join us if you like.”

Chapter Seventeen

‡

“Don’t be sonervous.”

Hart yanks at his shirt collar as if it’s strangling him, even though it fits perfectly. I made sure it would. “You want to look as if you belong here? I can help you with that.” And I had.

There had been a great deal of satisfaction in watching him get all dressed up, showing off that fine body of his in clothes that actually fit properly. Not that I can’t appreciate the curve of that ass in thrift store jeans, but there’s something about the way wool drapes… Had it been any surprise we’d ended up going at it in the dressing room? No. Not to me anyhow. If Allie had been anything more than a little taken aback, he hadn’t shown it. Just let me use him and then play dress-up some more.

He turns his head and narrows his eyes. “Easy for you to say. They’re your friends.”

I put my hands on his shoulders and smooth the sleeves down his arms, gripping the hard muscles in a way that soothes him. “That’s right. My best friends. Which is why you shouldn’t be nervous. You think I would be close with a bunch of assholes? I do business with some giant turd blossoms, I grant you, but that’s business. This is pleasure. Speaking of pleasure…”

His head turns in a way that’s too quick to be casual. Wary. “Yeah?”

“There’s the possibility there will be some play after dinner. Are you comfortable with that?”

The way his eyes get bigger, showing the stark white almost all the way around his dark irises, could mean either hell, no or hell, yes. His verbal response is more measured. They usually are. “Do you mean being there while it happens or participating?”

“Either.”

“Isn’t it rude to just watch?”

“No. You’ve been invited, but there are no expectations. And Glory’s a bit of an exhibitionist. She’ll like it.” Like it is an understatement. She’ll be ecstatic, and an ecstatic Glory is something to behold. She’s so frigging cute I want to squeeze her until she pops and a shit-ton of glitter and confetti pops out.

“Would you…would you share me?”

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