Temporary

Indecision paralyzed me for a telling moment. I hated that I was even hesitating. Was there something wrong with me that I was actually considering his offer?

Of course there was! If anyone had tried to slide the same offer to my twin, Tara, she would’ve sent that offer straight back to them so fast their head would’ve spun off their shoulders.

But I wasn’t Tara.

I was the fuck-up, Mari.

The one who who’d never pulled good grades in school; the one who’d flirted with and fantasized about her softball coach; the one who’d gotten kicked off the cheer squad for ditching school and getting caught drunk off-campus.

Yeah, like I said, I’d never been in the running for the award of Smartest Decision Maker or sadly even, Most Inspirational.

That’d always been Tara’s department.

But I could start, right?

I could ignore that desperate fear of becoming homeless and tell him to fuck off.

I could swallow my pride and ask my grandparents for money to finally return home. Yes, asking for the money would burn like fire in my gut and likely score my soul forever but at least I’d have my dignity intact.

What if I discovered my dignity wasn’t worth all that much and I would’ve much rather sacrificed my morals for a little security?

Yeah, but equally, what if, when Tara found out, she never looked at you the same way again?

As much as I talked crap about my twin…her opinion of me mattered. I swallowed the sticky lump in my throat as my head swam but I still managed to eke out, “You must be deaf. I said no.”

I was feeling pretty proud until he said, “Add another zero, I don’t care, but you’re leaving with me tonight.”

And things just got real.

Real complicated.

Or, maybe, they just got a little easier.

6

“Why?” I managed to squeak the word, my eyes nearly bulging at the figure he was offering. “I don’t understand…why are you doing this? You’re a decent looking guy. You could be knee-deep in pussy if you wanted — for free, no less — why are you willing to pay for me?”

“Because I don’t want entanglements,” he answered with a negligent flick of his gaze. “I sense you’re not the kind of woman looking for a hero or someone to save you, so you’re not going to get clingy when I’m through with your company.”

Cold as fuck, but logical. I couldn’t fault him for knowing what he wanted and what he didn’t want.

He leaned forward, close enough so that I could smell the spice of his pricey cologne. “I also like what I see,” he said, reaching to pull my chair closer, proving a fair amount of muscle lurked beneath that unassuming T-shirt. My heart fluttered as he invaded my bubble. “Since the moment I saw you, I’ve been fantasizing about those long legs, wondering how you’d feel wrapped around me as I pound the shit out of that sweet pussy. And that long, dark hair…mmmm….your even darker eyes…in my mind, I’ve fucked you a hundred times already and I’m impatient for the real thing. I want to hear you cum and I want to taste you when you gush.”

Was I totally cracked in the head thinking that was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard?

He didn’t use flattery — which wouldn’t work on me, anyway — he just flat-out stated the raw truth.

God, I was a sucker for a direct man.

“I want you, Mari and I’m willing to pay.”

Couldn’t get more direct than that.

“What if I’m not for sale?” I practically whispered, my throat dry.

“Everyone has a price,” he replied, patient yet firm.

I lost all sense of time — all that existed was the charged air between us — and I found myself drawn to those dangerous lips as if a giant magnet was buried in my forehead and I was helpless to stop.

But it was Gage who pulled away, even as his eyes gleamed with heat and the energy between us swirled with sexual tension. He shifted in his chair, drawing attention to his obvious erection.

Of course, my eyes went straight to that bulge and I actually blushed like a virgin on prom night. He grinned and jerked his head toward the napkin lying between us with the obscene offer scribbled on the cheap square. “What’s it going to be?”

If I said yes, did that make me a whore? Could I afford to care?

Being homeless wasn’t appealing. Neither was stripping. The Pink Lady was a worse dive than Jimmy’s. I’d probably get some kind of STD just walking through the glittery pink doors.

Gage was hot, rich and even if he was a self-entitled prick, he wasn’t asking for forever.

Saying yes would solve all my problems. I could even go home if I wanted.

No more suffering through New York winters in an apartment with less insulation than a wood shack.

No more dodging grubby fingers trying to touch my tits or grab my ass.

No more feeling like a total and complete failure for falling so ingloriously on my face.

All those things were true but could I live with myself after the deed was done? Could I look myself in the mirror and not see a woman whose only value had been between her legs?

“Make your choice,” Gage instructed, pushing me toward the inevitable.

Who was I kidding? There wasn’t a choice for me and he knew the way I would choose when he made the offer. A part of me grudgingly marveled at his ability to read people but another part of me hated that I was far less complex than I liked to think I was.

Most people, myself included, liked to think they were hard to figure out.

“How do I know you’re not just telling me whatever I want to hear so you can get into my pants for the night?”

“Would you like a good-faith payment?” he asked as if it were a simple business transaction between us, not me selling my dignity and agreeing to be his beck-and-call-girl.

“Something like that would be great,” I answered, though I had no idea how to facilitate that. I assumed he would know. “Half up front,” I tacked on boldly as if I had experience in these kinds of negotiations.

He chuckled as he countered, “Half and I get to taste you right here and now.”

My tongue unstuck from the roof of my mouth. “Taste me? Here?”

“Right here.”

There was relative privacy because the bar was empty and Manny was, no doubt, chortling over his money stash, lost in a delirium over how he would spend his good fortune but we were still out in the open.

Knowing Manny, he would blow the lot of it trying to be a high-roller at a poker game where he was outmatched and underfunded but that was his problem.

My problem was staring at me with those incredible eyes.

“Say yes.”

The murmured directive sent a shiver dancing down my spi

ne.

The moment was here. If I hesitated much longer, the offer would dry up and I’d be in the same position I was in this morning — about to lose everything, even my cat.

Miss Switch.

I could hire a good lawyer if I took the deal. I could hire a shark mean enough to chew Landon up and spit him out, maybe even run him out of New York, if I chose.

The idea of beating Landon after he’d humiliated me so completely made the decision less difficult.

“I’ll do it.”

“Good choice.” He swiped right on his phone, grinned, saying, “Done. Half of my offer is in your bank account. Feel free to check.”

He waited patiently as I fumbled with shaking fingers to check my banking app. My mouth gaped. A pending deposit of a ridiculous sum was processing. Even with only half, by morning my troubles would be over. I looked up to find him watching, a slow, feral smile fitting to his lips.

Before I could say anything, he jerked me into his arms and I landed squarely on his solid lap. My arms went automatically around his neck for stability. “From this moment forward, until I release you…you are mine. Understand?”

I nodded, unsure of the rules of this game. “What does that mean?”

“It means, your body is mine to explore, touch and pleasure. You cum with my permission, you exist to please me. You do nothing without my express permission. Do you understand?”

I nodded, a strange thrill tickling my belly. There was something unbelievably hot about surrender that I never would’ve imagined or believed but coming from Gage…I totally got it.

“Good girl,” he said with a husky growl of approval that I felt all the way to my toes. I was out of my element, a bit scared, but excited, too. Gage’s firm touch on my ass, commanding and yet gentle, guided me to straddle him.

“And what if you never get tired of me?” I asked.

“As beautiful as you are…nothing holds my interest for long,” he answered as his mouth found mine, his hands gripping my ass.

He thought I was beautiful? My feminine pride preened at the unexpected compliment. I wasn’t often called beautiful. Most times, I was labeled quirky, cute, or unique, but rarely beautiful.