But apparently, this was what I’d signed up for.
I should have been excited at the prospect of a paid vacation to one of my favorite cities in the world, but I didn’t want anyone to know I’d become a ridiculous sellout. It was embarrassing. Sadly, I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t tell Macy, she’d show up on my doorstep and call the cops. Plus I needed her to cover a couple of my shifts.
Her response: “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. The escort business must be lucrative, you lucky bastard, you. Keep your ears open for me, would ya?”
That conversation made me realize I couldn’t tell anyone else. Especially not my parents. They wouldn’t understand, and I would have been mortified if they knew that my “bodyguard” gig was really just me pimping myself out like a ho for the prospect of future work and big money.
Yep, I even sounded like a ho.
Nope. I was not happy about this. And I was gonna make sure Seb knew it.
After I screwed him against the wall in his five-thousand-dollar-a-night hotel suite.
I thanked my driver, hiked the strap of my duffel bag over my shoulder, and made my way into the lobby, skimming over the dark marble flooring, the deep red accent wall, and lush landscape paintings of the British countryside behind the reception desk.
I bit back a yawn as I waited for my key card and the usual hotel spiel. Man, I was exhausted. Bone-tired.
“Michael will escort you to your room, sir,” the pretty blonde receptionist chirped in a melodic British accent, gesturing to the eager-looking young man wearing a perfectly pressed suit standing nearby.
“No, that’s okay.”
“It’s no problem at all, sir. You’ll need a special key card to access your floor. I’m happy to guide you,” Michal asserted.
I surrendered and followed Michael to the elevator, occasionally humming to give the impression I was listening when he recited a long list of amenities. He was still talking when the lift stopped on my floor, and though I still wasn’t listening, the enthusiasm in his tone was hard to miss. He either really loved his job or he was hoping for a nice tip for the escort service to the elite level.
Shit. I didn’t have any English money on me. I yawned behind my hand, blearily reminding myself to exchange dollars for pounds just as the door at the end of the corridor opened and—
I dropped my bag on the floor and squinted at the vision of Seb Rourke stalking toward us.
“Trent?”
Michael darted his gaze between us. “Sir? Would you like me to take your bag into your suite?”
“No, it’s fine. I can take it from here, Michael,” I assured him. “Thanks.”
I waited for the elevator to whoosh shut behind the bellman and yeah, I forgot about tipping him.
All I could see now was Seb.
I drank in the sight of him, standing tall and proud with his hands low on his hips in the middle of the hallway like he fucking owned the place. His crisp white button-down shirt opened to reveal the hollow at the base of his neck, and his dark jeans lovingly hugged his crotch. I tore my gaze from the outline of his shaft when he spoke.
“What the—what are you doing here?”
Hmm. He seemed confused, but I didn’t buy it.
“Charlie sent me to take a fucking picture with you.”
Seb’s forehead creased as he scratched his temple. “That’s…”
“Ludicrous. I know. Just like I know you had something to do with this. And I’m pissed at you.” I held my key card up. “But right now, I’m too tired to think straight.”
“Wait. You think I sent for you?”
I glowered at him. “Of course you did. Don’t bother giving me that innocent look. I’m not buying it.”
His lips curled in a slow-moving, mischievous grin as he pulled my key from my hand. “Well, I am innocent. But for what it’s worth, I’m very happy to see you.”
Seb opened the door, picked up my duffel, and ushered me inside my room. Excuse me, my ridiculously fancy-ass hotel suite. I cast a quick glance at the cream-colored sofa and small dining table and chairs in the adjoining space, shaking my head in wonder. The walls were paneled with a rich dark wood, the flat-screen across from the king-sized bed was as big as the one I had at home, and the white linen duvet looked fluffy and delicious.
“This is ridi—”
Seb was on me in a flash. He backed me against the wall, slid his hands in my hair, and sealed his mouth over mine in a rough, over-enthusiastic kiss that taunted me to keep up.
I pushed him away instead.
“What part of ‘I’m pissed at you’ don’t you get?”
Seb gave me a contrite look but didn’t back away. “I get it. I think. But I’m really glad to see you.”