CHAPTER NINETEEN
Teresa
I stare back at my reflection in the full-length mirror, which, of course, has giant steer horns mounted on top. Might as well face it. In six-inch heels and a little red dress that ends just below my butt, I look like I’m hoping this story ends with Richard Gere scaling my fire escape. Or Will, rather.
Definitely Will.
The man won’t stop surprising me. Or turning me on. And I’m so turned on right now, I could hump another sink. When Will said he’d rather I be viewed with respect, I know he meant it. So this effort he’s making tonight is totally about me. Oh, he’s going to have a good time. I’ll make sure of it. But that kind of selflessness in a man is something I haven’t seen before…and it’s pulling me in deeper.
I’ve fallen hard.
There’s a vicious twist in my middle, but I force my chin up and ignore it. I’m not going to think negative thoughts tonight. Tomorrow will be soon enough. I’ve been a dutiful daughter and protective sister for a long time. Maybe I can let tonight just be about Will and me? Without letting anything else intrude? Whatever happens when the lid comes off the box, I’ll have this night to remember.
Fighting back another wave of dread, I lean toward the mirror and apply the nude lipstick in my hand, flipping the tube over to add a glossy sheen. I can’t believe I’m getting ready to go downstairs and role play. To trust a man to be my partner in this scene created by my own imagination. I’ve always been a little embarrassed by this secret of mine. Not anymore.
Since I met Will, I’ve won an arm-wrestling contest, saved a dog from drowning, and I’m about to fully embrace my wayward libido.
When a flash of nerves hits me, I remember Will’s face after watching my film. I think I’ll replay that moment every day until forever. Maybe I am good. Maybe film school isn’t such a pipe dream after all. Saying those things to myself and remembering the awe in Will’s tone while he peppered me with questions give me the push I need. I got this.
Taking one final look at myself in the mirror, I tug on my light, black, belted jacket and step back to survey the goods. I’m not a shy woman by any stretch, but then again, this isn’t my usual crowd downstairs. At the club, I’m surrounded by older men, but they’ve either fallen on hard times due to their gambling addiction. Or they’re low-grade criminals on the take. This hotel is bursting at the seams with money and influence—and I’m going to strut in wearing stripper heels, looking like I have nothing but my birthday suit beneath this jacket.
When I said I trusted Will in this, though…I meant it.
My palms start to sweat on the way to the elevators, so I blow on them, shake them out. I bypass the main bank and travel to the farthest ones on our floor, which I noticed earlier will take me down to the hotel’s side exit. Thankfully, I don’t pass anyone on the way out of the hotel. I circle around to the front and enter, ignoring inquisitive looks from the front desk and taking the first right hallway to the hotel bar. It’s noisy. Crowded. Before I step one heeled foot inside, I can tell that some sporting event is showing on the television, thanks to the cheers and groans.
A lot of the patrons have their backs turned to the entrance, most of them facing a large projection screen on the far side of the room. Some of them do turn, though, eyeing me top to bottom beneath heavy eyelids—and their lack of any discernable expression almost makes me lose my nerve. There is one man off to the side wearing a white baseball cap and I stop breathing, but he turns with a laugh and it’s not him. Too old to be the man who was following us. Still…our tail could be here. Couldn’t he? Could be watching from the shadows and reporting back to Silas. I haven’t spotted him since the day he drove past us on the highway. I’ve been hoping he either didn’t make it past hotel security without a reservation and the cost for a room was too astronomical, but it’s impossible to be sure. And that damn baseball cap is all I remember. His features are a blur, so if he wasn’t wearing the hat, I’m not even sure I’d recognize him.
When I see Will, everything fades into the background. My nerves, my fear. All of it. There’s only him.
He’s sitting at the dark end of the bar, away from the crowd, turned sideways in his seat, a highball of whiskey resting on the bar beside him. He sits unmoving, while somehow crackling with animal energy, his eyes burning like twin brands. The sound around me fades. The heels on my feet stop feeling ridiculous and make my calves tingle instead. Or maybe it’s the way Will’s eyes slide up from my ankles to rest on my thighs, the hem of my jacket.
There’s no one in the room but us, so moving toward him in the void of noise is the most natural thing in the world. Like being pulled slowly, sensually by a humming magnet. Except the magnet is hotter than sin and talks about giving me head like it’s an Olympic event.
I stop when I reach Will, who is already calling to the bartender for a glass of white wine. Thankful for the extra seconds to collect myself, I turn to face the bar and set down my purse. “Mr. Caruso?”
“That’s right.” While the bartender drops off my wine and glides away, Will takes a long drink of whiskey, letting his gaze travel over my bottom. “Very nice.”
Heat climbs the insides of my thighs and sinks low in my belly, colliding right in the middle. “Thank you.”
He sits forward, his hand opening wide to palm my hips, squeezing, testing. “Would you like to take off your jacket and show me the rest?”
Dampness forms between my legs. This is it. It’s happening. I’m the merchandise, just like I’ve thought about in the dark so many times while touching myself. I’m already so hot, I could climb on his lap now and ride him into the sunset, but the thrill of the game is only beginning, isn’t it? Good Lord. By the time it’s over, it could kill me. “Sure, of course,” I breathe, unbuckling the belt and tugging it off my shoulders—
Will’s hands find my hips, turning me toward him in a blur. I’m caught off guard and the loss of balance sends me into the V of his thighs. “The preview is just for me.” A muscle flexes in his jaw. “No one else.”
“Right.” That reminder of Will lurking beneath the surface, possessive and steadfast, gives me a boost of confidence. Enough to let my jacket fall to the floor, leaving me in the tiny red dress. “Am I to your taste, Mr. Caruso?”
“You inspire tastes I didn’t even know I had.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand ball into a tight fist on the bar. A hungry sound leaves his mouth, but he tries to hide it by clearing his throat. Nonetheless, his voice sounds like ripping Velcro when he speaks. “I bet those pretty tits get you into a lot of trouble.” His eyes tick to mine. “Do you like being in trouble?”
My bottom tingles where he slapped me yesterday, the memory sending a bead of sweat sliding down my back. “Yes. If that’s what you want,” I rush to add.
“You’ll like what I like, won’t you?” He runs his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip. “That’s the advantage of ordering only the best.”
Oh God. I’m trying not to breathe like I just ran a marathon, but I’m slipping into the role of call girl, letting it become me, and it’s intoxicating. Just for tonight, my only job is to satisfy this man and I’m placing all my focus in that single basket; every other worry or insecurity rolls off me like lush, morning dew. “Yes, Mr. Caruso.”
He stands and picks up his whiskey for a lazy sip. But for all his casual male grace, when he moves to my opposite side—partially blocking my view of the other patrons—I can see the sheen of sweat on his upper lip. “Turn in a circle. I want to see your ass in that dress before you spend the rest of the night naked.”
My panties are soaked, clinging to my skin as I turn slowly, pivoting on the toe of my high heel. As I turn, I can see one of two loners at tables in the back section of the bar, watching the show we’re putting on, and it should make me want to shrug my jacket back on, right? Should make me want to vamoose out the side door. No, though. I’m not shying away from this experience I’ve apparently needed so badly without realizing. This chance to be bought. To be an object of such concentrated lust. And there’s no doubt that Will is lusting as his hand slides over my left bottom cheek and squeezes, grunting in satisfaction, the way he might while buying a sports car—and it makes my knees shake. Knowing he’s in on the act and would start a brawl over someone actually disrespecting me only heightens my enjoyment.
“Let’s get this upstairs before someone tries to outbid me,” he growls, inspecting my other cheek with a rough, testing palm. “I wouldn’t let that happen, but nothing is going to hold me up from getting inside you.”
I complete my turn and come face to face with Will once more, but I’m only given a second to appreciate his hooded eyes and concrete jaw, before my jacket is wrapped around me and I’m being escorted from the bar. I’ve been so absorbed by Will that I wasn’t aware exactly how much interest we’ve drawn, but there’s no ignoring it now. Several men are turned in our direction, some of them whispering to each other, all of them looking me over. Like bidding to take me home isn’t that far outside the realm of reality. Once again, though, my trust for Will just turns it all to background noise. Part of the dream we’re weaving.
Once in the hallway, Will punches the call button for the elevator, his focus straight ahead, his thumb brushing the small of my back. As soon as the doors roll open, however, and I’m dragged inside to the empty car, his façade cracks.
Hard.