Page 40 of The Escort

“This isn’t going as planned?”

“No.” I shake my head. Not at all.

“I warned you about those intentions, Chosen. Unfortunately, sometimes they lead you down a path you never intended.”

No shit! I went in search of the person who killed my uncle, and now the could-be killer stands half naked in my living room.

“Look at me,” he says.

I’m reluctant to leave the safety of the floor.

“Fucking look at me.” His voice hardens, forcing my view to his. His eyes lock with mine. “What do you want?”

I step forward and place my reluctant, trembling hand on his chest. The air between us evaporates. My palm melts into his soft skin, becoming an entity of its own. The unexpected sensation flows like cold water down my dry throat. Quenching my thirst, offering a taste of what Lix is made of.

I run my hand up his neck. He stands steady and obedient, calling for me to tempt my curiosity further.

I toggle between his observant eyes and compelling mouth.

He leans a dangerous breath away, crushing my resolve. “What do you want?”

“You.” I press my mouth against his partially open and luring lips.

His tongue lashes out, striking to engage with mine. Heat sears among the wetness of the kiss, melting away my senses and charging my desires.

I clutch his neck, grip his shoulder, and feed from his mouth like a starved feral feline.

“Fuck.” He breathes between our tangled lips. His head jerks back. He gazes down at me through weighted eyelids. “Free me, Chosen.”

I struggle for air. Struggle to calm the pounding in my body, and that’s when I realize his hands are still behind his back.

Wait…

“Are you asking me for permission?”

“Yes.” His jaw clenches. “Stop fucking with me.”

I scan his tight, tanned, and magnificent body. “You’re so in control, aren’t you?”

His mouth quirks. “I think we know who has the control right now. And who likes it.”

He’s right.

Not to mention, I feel safe owning it.

“No more, Chosen.” He leans down close to my mouth. “I will no longer play with you. You’ll have to show your cards or fold them.”

I understand what he’s saying, and while it means he’s right, again, surrendering is difficult—giving into the ache he causes whenever he’s near and allowing him to cure it. It frightens me. “Do I have to make a decision this second?” Hell, it can’t hurt asking.

He reaches down, grabs his shirt from the floor, and jerks it on. “I’m outta here.” He starts for the door.

“Hey.” I grab his arm. He peers at me over his shoulder. “Give me a little more time, please.”

He looks down at my hand on his arm. “Promise me you won’t write anything about the escort service.”

“Everything you’ve said to me is off the record. So there’s no story to write.”

“Okay.” He leans in close, canvassing my face. “Well, I guess I have no choice but to trust you.”

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