Riot

And that’s his job, right? He’s playing his gigolo part, and I’m falling for it like an idiot.

Which is...Fine, right? After all, I’m asking for it. Asking to hire him for sex. Even if it’s to cure myself of my affliction, something he doesn’t know. Something he doesn’t need to know about, not if it all goes according to my plan.

And it will. I feel it deep in my gut that this is the only way. Swim or drown. Jump or get eaten by the wolves of the past.

“Hey. Paxtyn.” He’s waving a hand in front of my face. “You with me?”

“Yeah.”

“You sort of spaced out on me. Anything I should know about?”

I shake my head. “Sorry. I just remembered something I need to do later.” There. Smooth. “You were saying?”

He watches my face as if trying to read it. As if suspecting I’m lying.

“I don’t do guys,” he says finally. “Or children. Or animals.”

I gape at him. “Sure,” I manage. “I wasn’t going to—”

“No drugs. No photos or videos. No hardcore BDSM. If we stay in a hotel, you pay the room and all related expenses. If we go to a bar or restaurant, you pay.”

“Like now?” I gesture at his juice.

“No.” He flashes me a quick grin, dimples and all. God. “I’ve got this one.”

“And the extras?”

“That’s for sex.”

His words hang between us as if carved in the air with fire.

I swallow hard. “So the hourly rate the agency told me about is for…?”

“This.” He waves again at the bar. “Spending time together, talking, holding hands. I can go to parties with you, concerts, the movies, the theater, to restaurants. You can tell your friends I’m your boyfriend, or your fiancé, or whatever you want. This is the game.”

The game?

“How much for sex, then?”

“Extra fifty bucks per hour.” He says it quickly and without inflection, his face blank. “That’s my price.”

Here is the catch, then. Still, the price is overall low enough that it’s affordable to me. I have enough to spend, and if it means I get to lead a more normal life afterward, then this is worth it.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, obviously thinking I’m about to change my mind. “I’m good at this. I can hold back from coming until you’re satisfied, and—”

“It’s a deal.” I lift my glass, take a long gulp of sweet daiquiri. “You think two hours are enough?”

His mouth opens, then closes. He’s trying to control his expression, but can’t help the widening of his eyes.

“Yeah. Sure,” he says after a moment, recovering. “I take it you agree with my conditions?”

“I think they make sense.” My palms are sweating. God, am I really going through with this?

Guess so.

“Okay then. Where would you like to go?” He swallows down his juice, and I watch his throat work. He sure is pretty, in a rugged sort of way, with his dark hair, bright eyes and soft mouth.

“I’ve booked a room here.” I push away my glass, too nervous to swallow another drop. Digging into my purse, I take out enough money to cover the bill and place it on the bar, waving off his objection. Need to do this before I lose my nerve. “Ready when you are.”