Escorting the Player (The Escort Collection 3)

He rolled his massive body over and threw his arm across my chest. I held my breath, not daring to move. Part of me considered getting up and running. Maybe he wouldn't remember everything that happened.

Another part of me contemplated staying and playing with his enormous erection, which jutted against my thigh. If I was being honest with myself—which I genuinely tried not to be while on assignment—I really wanted to take another ride on Chase Layne's massive manhood. Just to see if it was as awesome as I remembered. I'd never screamed like that before. The pleasure I'd felt was utterly new to me. My thighs shuddered just thinking about it, which somehow made my head hurt worse.

Had I retained my sense of humor this morning, I would've laughed. Instead, I pulled the sheet off my face so I could breathe.

Chase opened one eye and looked at me. "Hey." He sounded vaguely surprised.

"Morning." I forced myself to smile at him, even though it killed my head.

He opened his other eye and looked as though he were trying to clear the fog from his brain. "Well…I guess we broke the ice last night."

I wanted to dive back under the covers. "Um, yep. We sure did."

He took his arm off me and quickly took his erection back to his side of the bed. He gave me an embarrassed smile. "Sorry about that."

I felt cold without his body touching mine. "It's okay. You were asleep." It's okay. We fucked each other's brains out last night, remember? Don't worry about a little morning pokey-pokey!

Again, if I'd been capable, I would've giggled. Instead, I said nothing, and things instantly went back to awkward and miserable between myself and Chase Layne.

He sat up and gave me a wooden smile. "Well…gotta go hit the gym." He grabbed his underwear from somewhere under the sheets and pulled a T-shirt over his head.

And then he practically ran out of the room.

I might be the worst escort ever.

Chapter Eight

CHASE

I can't believe I fucked her. I just had to go and fuck her. That had never been the plan. She was for show, not to shove my dick into.

Of course, my traitorous dick twitched at the thought. It wanted to go shove itself all sorts of places after last night. Avery's pussy, Avery's mouth, between Avery gorgeous, round tits…

I grabbed some heavier weights to punish myself and tried to stop obsessing about her. Hot images from last night kept flashing in my mind, but I didn't feel right about what we'd done. Last night I'd felt very, very right—but in the light of day, I was nothing but ashamed.

I'd taken advantage of this girl. Avery was here because she was on a job. I didn't believe for a second that she was an escort because she enjoyed it. She was too young, too pretty, too innocent. She must really need the money. She was as vulnerable as she could have been, and I'd preyed on her. My gut twisted at the thought.

But last night, once I stopped being a dick, she'd seemed like she was having fun. And even as shy as Avery had been when she'd first shown up, she'd lost all inhibition once we'd gotten back to her room. She'd ridden my cock and bossed me around like a pro, and I'd loved every second of it.

That's because she is a pro. My gut twisted again. I fucked a prostitute.

I couldn't believe it.

I felt sick—not because I thought bad things about Avery and what she did for work—not at all. It was because I felt like I'd exploited her. I was not one of those pro athletes who thought I could take what I wanted, when I wanted. That wasn't how I operated. I thought prostitution was dangerous, ugly, and degrading to women.

Says the guy who just hired a hooker.

I added more weights, grunting as I did another chest press. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought I'd end up sleeping with her. I thought I was above taking advantage of people. But I'd fucked her brains out last night, and I'd enjoyed every abandoned, debaucherous second.

Worse than that? I'd enjoyed running my hands through her long blond hair. The power I'd felt when she came so hard she screamed my name. Waking up next to her warm body—before I realized how badly I'd messed up.

I fucking hated myself this morning.

But before I could do more punishing presses, my phone started to blow up.

First was a text from Reggie. That is a seriously hot girl, he wrote. You're the man.

It buzzed again—a text from Trevor, one of my defenseman. Who's the blonde? he wrote with a winking emoji. She have a sister?