Escorting the Actress (The Escort Collection 2)

Lowell

I lay awake that night. I could feel him on the other side of the door. My body, heavy with lust, was practically screaming for him.

Shut up, I warned it. We're in enough trouble as it is.

I hadn't told Kyle that my mother might be coming home soon; I didn't want to put him any more on edge than he already was. Besides, this was my mother we were talking about. She could end up staying in Japan for another month, going to a random reiki retreat or finding some Japanese businessman to fawn over.

When I slept, I slept fitfully, dreaming of Kyle naked and on top of me, his big biceps holding me down. Oh yes, yes, yes—

"Yes!" I yelled, waking myself.

I sat straight up in bed, my breath heaving, early morning light coming through the window. I looked around, flustered and wishing that either the dream had been real or I could somehow manage to stop craving Kyle's hands on me.

"Are you okay in there?" Kyle called.

He heard me. Just perfect.

"I'm good," I croaked, embarrassed beyond belief. I looked at the clock—six o'clock. "I'm gonna go for a run." And burn off some of this sexual energy before I burst into flames.

Kyle knocked on the door and poked his head through. "I'll come with you. I can't sleep for shit."

I nodded warily, wondering what he'd been dreaming about and hoping he couldn't read the guilty look on my face.

We ran in the Boston Commons, past the quiet swan boats, past the empty benches still covered in dew.

"Do you wanna go for a long run today?" Kyle asked.

"Uh-huh. I think that would be good. I seem to have some extra nervous energy."

He snorted. "If that's what you wanna call it."

I didn't ask him what he meant. Strategically.

We ran for about six miles, looping back to Newbury Street. I stopped on the corner near a coffee shop.

My breathing was ragged. "Well, that hurt." At least I had something to focus on other than my yearning and frustration.

Kyle put his hands on his hips and bent over. "I know." Sweat made his shirt cling to his back, and I could see every muscle. He stood back up and caught me looking at him.

"What," he said, not bothering to make it a question.

I just opened and closed my mouth, like a guppy at a loss for words.

He gave me that shit-eating grin and came toward me. "You enjoying the view, boss?" He put his hands on my hips and pulled me to him.

I tried to pull back. "I'm all sweaty. And don't call me boss."

He held me firmly in place, and it became more than just the run that created heat between us. I struggled to catch my breath.

"One of these days, Lowell Barton," he said and grazed his lips against mine. "One of these days you aren't going to pull away from me."

I just gulped.

He released me and looked at me darkly. "Let's get some coffee."

I nodded and followed him obediently. For once.

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