“Yeah. We were pretty mean to you sometimes. Poor boy.” She giggled again.
I groaned. “I don’t need your pity now,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Believe it or not, I’m more than capable of handling myself these days.”
“Oh, I believe it,” she murmured, gazing up at me. She looked away quickly, her cheeks spreading with color at the innuendo. “This was nice, Coop,” she said as we approached the apartment complex. “Thanks for helping me reignite my love for cheesecake.”
I held the door open for her as we entered the foyer of the apartment complex. We walked to the elevator, both lost in our own thoughts. The doors opened on our floor and she stepped out, followed by me.
I opened the front door, letting her in first. She waited as I locked the door, and then walked with me through to the living room.
“Well I guess I’d better get to bed,” she smiled.
“I guess you had better,” I echoed.
She stood there awkwardly for a moment—which is how long it took me to realize she wanted me to kiss her. I leaned forward and cradled the back of her neck. My body jolted as my fingertips brushed gently over her soft skin. I pulled her close to me, until her lips were almost on mine.
“Sleep well,” I whispered as my mouth melted into hers. It was just a kiss, but a kiss that touched the core of my body. So many emotions flooded through me when those lips met mine.
I so badly wanted her just then. I wanted to touch every inch of her body, and explore what turned her on. But I didn’t want to mess this up. If I rushed things, that’s what would happen. As hard as it was for me to pull away from her, that was what I needed to do. The last time I’d felt that way about anyone was with Kara, and the heartache I’d suffered back then was still raw.
“Night,” she whispered, her hand dropping away from mine.
Chapter Eleven
I stumbled down to the kitchen shortly after ten, my head spinning from another night of poor sleep. I spotted the full coffee pot, which at that moment felt as good as winning the lottery.
Thank fucking god. I poured myself a cup of freshly brewed coffee.
“Nice boxers.”
Huh? Oh shit. I turned around and winked at Mia, who was smirking at me from the end of the counter.
“Yep. What can I say? I rock my boxers.” I shrugged and leaned against the counter, my coffee in my hand. I stretched my body out, completely unashamed of how ridiculous I looked in my red satin love-heart boxer shorts.
She shook her head and laughed, her cheeks glowing red.
“God, you’re an idiot,” she giggled, her face lighting up.
“Yeah, well, I’d love to hang around for more of this abuse, but I have work to do.” I raised my eyebrows at her and sauntered off to get ready.
As I got dressed, I thought about our kiss the night before. More accurately, I continued to think about our kiss because in reality, it was all that had occupied my mind since it had happened.
It had taken forever for me to drift off to sleep, and when I finally did, I dreamt about her. Then I woke up thinking about her. Fuck. Everything right now was about her. Not just my attraction to her, either, but literally everything about this woman was driving me crazy.
When I walked past the bathroom I heard the shower running. I imagined her standing in there, naked, hot water running over her beautiful body. I felt myself getting hard.
Focus, Coop. You’ve got work to do, and that doesn’t involve Mia.
A wave of guilt swept through me. What was that about? Guilt for lying to her about my job? It’s not like we were together. I wasn’t cheating on her, so why did it feel like I was? I pushed aside my thoughts of her and forced myself to focus on work.
Because that’s all it was to me, work.
I wound down my window and buzzed at the gate of Amalie’s mansion. For her, this was safer than meeting me in some random hotel where you never knew who was watching. That and Amalie had specific tastes that could only be met here.
You’re intrigued now, aren’t you?
The first time I went to her house, which was only shortly after I began escorting, I was shocked. My initial thoughts were focused on how a woman could possibly get pleasure out of all that shit—especially one of the most well-known women of this generation.
Amalie Prescott was a household name. Everyone knew her sweet little smile and could spin off a handful of her movies. Seeing her in the flesh that first time had left me feeling starstruck. She was one of the first celebrity women I’d had the pleasure of meeting. Until Amalie, every client had been in a position of power, but not famous. Fucking them didn’t have the same impact as sleeping with a movie star did.