Page 63 of My Escort (A Different Kind of Escort)

She rests the side of her head on the edge of the door, getting comfortable while my hand and body burn. The pizza is fucking hot, but I’ve been burning for this woman for so long already, so what’s a few more minutes?

Her lip quirks. Her large eyes peer up at me. “Trying to do what right?”

“You know.” I shrug again, the heat reaching my cheeks.

I feel twelve.

“No.” Her stubborn chin tilts upward along with her eyebrow. “I don’t.”

I chuckle. It’s just like her to make this difficult for me. “To, you know, court you.”

She laughs. “Don’t you think you’re a little late for that? Especially after what that mouth did to me last night?”

I gaze down into her dancing eyes and steal a glimpse of her challenging mouth. I want to grab her and fuck the smugness from her. “Let me in.”

Her eyes roll over my impatient body, slow and determined, like two hungry hands.

I wait, the pizza burning my hand.

She finally ends the torture when she moves back and opens the door.

“Okay, but there had better be pepperoni on that pizza.”

I step inside. “Oh, there is and mushrooms.”

Her eyes widen. “I’m allergic to mushrooms.”

“You are? Shit!”

“No.” She taps me on the arm with a chuckle. “I’m messing with you.”

It serves me right. I know so little about her. That’s why I’m here.

I need to do this right. I need to show her I want more. I need to stop being afraid of her.

“I’ll get some plates.” She laughs, releasing my arm.

I love the sound of her laughter about as much as the one she makes when she’s having an orgasm.

I follow her short shorts and tight-fitting tank top into the kitchen. It’s as if she knew I was coming and wore the hottest getup in her dresser.

She grabs a couple of plates from the cupboard. “So…” She turns around and sets them on the table. “Is this a date?”

“Yes,” I say with confidence, keeping my eyes on hers and not on her tits.

“Really?”

I nod. “Thought we could watch a movie or something. Figured we got the dinner thing out of the way the other night. So it’s time to move on to other things people do when they’re dating.”

She flips the pizza box open. “What kind of movie did you have in mind?” she asks the box of pizza.

“You pick.”

“I don’t watch much TV.” She dishes the pizza onto the plates and hands me one. “How about we sit on the couch, eat some pizza, and talk?”

“Talk?” The last time we talked, I told her everything. Spilled out shit that I don’t usually tell anyone. Fuck. How much more trouble could I get myself into?

“Yes.” She walks into the living area.

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