Page 16 of Reckless Desire

I achieved what I wanted with my comment in the elevator, so why do I feel like the villain here? Like I’m the losing party?

“No, I inherited those from my late husband.” I shrug. He lifts his eyebrows. It’s an almost imperceptible reaction and I’m not sure what surprised him more. The fact that I’m a widow or that my husband was a scumbag who left me with trouble I’m still sorting out. “Do you have debts?”

I don’t want to talk about myself. Also, I have an acute need to understand his motivations. It may be just my misconception, but I assume a gigolo would be a shallow man. The man across from me feels all sorts of deep.

He puts his glass down, stands up and takes off his jacket. He drapes it over his seat, moving with the grace of a predator. Hunter. It’s fascinating to watch him glide around as he gets closer to me. He loosens his tie and pulls it over his head. While he works the first two buttons of his shirt, I scoot to the farthest corner of my love seat.

It’s a protective move, but he takes it as an invitation and sits down, rolling his sleeves up. I didn’t know forearm muscles could be this defined. He leans forward and scoots my feet off the floor.

Instinctively, I extend my arm and the wine sloshes over the rim. With his burning palms on my ankles, he yanks me to angle my body to face him. He relaxes against the sofa’s backrest and puts my feet into his lap. It’s strangely familiar and domestic.

I’m focusing all my mental faculties on breathing and swallowing. I’ve been doing a lot of the latter, but the lump in my throat keeps swelling.

Trying to get back to our conversation, I’m about to repeat my question when Hunter pushes his fingers into the ball of my foot, massaging it, and I melt into the soft cushions behind me.

This room is over-the-top elegance, but Hunter’s hands kneading my soles with just the right amount of pressure is exactly the type of luxury I appreciate. I close my eyes and a moan escapes me.

He’s very generous with his caresses. God, what those hands could probably do to other parts of my body.

I’m deep in a blissful oblivion when his voice jerks me back to reality.

“I have medical bills.”

ChapterSix

Hunter

Sydney snaps her eyes open and straightens, shoving her feet into my crotch. As her heel connects with a sensitive spot, I double over, pain vibrating through me. She realizes what happened and swings her legs to the floor.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” She jumps up.

I wince and stretch my arm. “I just need a moment.” I lean back, tilting my head backward and releasing the pain with a long exhale.

When I open my eyes she is standing above me, biting her bottom lip, and it takes all my willpower not to pull her into my lap.

“I’m so sorry. Do you need an ice pack?” Her cheeks are crimson, her face a grimace as if we shared the pain.

“No, it wasn’t that bad. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“And I didn’t mean to dig my heels in…” She gestures with her hands and then covers her face. “God.”

I chuckle. “Come on. Sit down. I’ll be fine.”

Her shoulders shake. I can’t see her face, but God I hope she’s not crying. “Sydney?”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is strangled with laughter.

I rest my head back and laugh as well. “I’m glad my misery is a source of entertainment for you.”

She drags her hands down and bursts into laughter. The sound of it spreads warmth in my chest. A woman’s laugh has never been a particular attraction for me. I didn’t even know it could be a thing. But Sydney’s laughter moves me like an emotional musical score.

I’m kind of grateful for the painful interruption. Not because the conversation was getting too personal, but because for some reason touching her feet had a direct line to my cock. The last thing I needed was to sport a boner. This woman is affecting me enough already. Fuck.

Sydney apologizes a few more times and finally sits beside me again. She folds her legs under her and turns with her arm over the backrest. She is closer than she was before. We stare at each other for a moment and a sparkling tension replaces the lighter mood.

“You never told me where you would like to time travel to.” She swallows and I have a hard time tearing my eyes off her neck. I want to kiss her there. To sink my teeth into the hollow above her collarbone.

I’m relieved she abandoned her interrogation. I don’t know why I told her about the reason behind my moonlighting as an exclusive escort, but she pissed me off with her comment in the elevator. Am I the only one feeling the connection between us?

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