Page 56 of Filthy Hot Escort

“Here, I’ll pour you a glass, ma’am,” the waiter innocently said. Julian smiled and nodded at the waiter. “Thank you. You know,” Julian said, leaning into Hardy conspiratorially, “This wine reminds me of something else I’ve had a taste of recently.”

Hardy taps his chin. “Italian?”

“American, I think.” He slid a wink at Skylar. Then he started to lower his hand again, and she couldn’t believe herself when she let out a breathless but very loud and very needy moan.

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“Darling, are you okay?” Julian asked after Skylar let out the embarrassing loud, clearly lust-filled moan. “Is it getting too hot in here for you?” Julian looked at Hardy in apology. “Skylar’s particularly sensitive to changes in temperature.”

Maybe it was because she was embarrassed—she’d just advertised her desire for Julian to the entire restaurant—but Julian’s innocent words hit Skylar hard. She suddenly sobered, and her arousal instantly disappeared.

What the hell was she doing?

Julian had made it clear last night that he didn’t want anything more from her.

Now, all of a sudden, he’s fingering her under the table in front of her boss?

And she’d moaned in front of everyone like a . . . like a . . . .

Consequences, Skylar. Consequences.

The word reverberated in her mind, then buried itself like hooks into her skin.

“Julian’s right,” she said dully. “Hot then cold. Ice cold. That’s me.”

Julian frowned. “That’s not what I—”

Skylar pushed her chair back from the table and placed her napkin down. “Something is in the air I seem to be allergic to. I just need some fresh air,” she said. She stood, and then so did Julian. “It’s okay, Jay,” she said, deliberately using the name he’d given her from that night. “You don’t have to come with me.”

Julian scowled. “Ah, but I do. As Hardy is aware, I take your well-being and comfort very seriously, Skylar. So whatever it is you need, I’m going to see that you get it,” he said with finality.

The fire in his eyes made her shiver. To hide it, she gathered up her purse and hefted the thick binder she’d brought with her into her arms. “If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Priese? We should probably head out then.”

Her boss waved them off, annoyed but clearly unwilling to call her a liar in front of her rich and powerfully influential boyfriend. “Fine, fine,” he said. He rose and offered his hand to Julian, who, after a brief hesitation, shook it.

“I hope we’ll see each other again, Julian,” Hardy said.

“Perhaps,” Julian muttered, his patience with Hardy obviously at an end. He took Skylar’s hand. Together, they wove through the tables. But as Julian angled for the exit, they were stopped by a raven-haired woman in a sexy form-fitting blue dress.

The woman placed her hand on Julian’s arm and purred, “Julian. Imagine running into you here. Looks like today is my lucky day.”

Skylar ignored the woman and instead kept her gaze glued to Julian.

That’s when she saw it in his face. Recognition. Discomfort. Guilt.

This was one of Julian’s clients.

She tried tugging her hand out of Julian’s, but he wouldn’t let go.

Something impetuous and wild and jealous and angry took hold of her. She knew she shouldn’t say anything, but right then, she didn’t think a firing squad could keep the words from shooting out of her.

“Itisyour lucky day!” Skylar said to the woman, her voice so cheerfully sharp it could cut glass. “Julian and I were about to part ways. You know . . . ” She leaned conspiratorially closer to the woman. “He just gave me a good finger-banging under the table. Alas, I didn’t come, but don’t let that stop you. I hear I’m an anomaly for Julian. I’m sure he’s made you come many, many, many times, isn’t that right?”

The woman looked uncomfortably between her and Julian. “Um . . . ”

“Stop it,” Julian hissed as he tugged on her hand.

Skylar ignored him and kept staring at the woman. “Tell me . . . what’s your name?”

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