7

Cami

Light filters into the room, waking me to the gentle snore of someone beside me. My body freezes at the sound, but the delicious pull of used muscles reminds me of the events from the previous night and who I’m in bed with.

Ben.

His large, warm body stirs next to me, and I close my eyes, pretending to be asleep. Once he settles, his breath deepening again, I turn my head to take in the sight of him. But instead of finding a sleeping giant, I’m met with a large smile and sleepy brown eyes.

“Good morning,” he drawls, and his deep voice sends a thrill through my body.

“Morning,” I respond, turning the rest of my body to face him. He lifts an arm, and I snuggle into the crook, placing my hand on his chest to trace the hard lines of muscle. He wraps his arm tightly around me.

The sound of his stomach growling fills the awkward silence growing between us.

“Someone’s hungry,” I laugh and snuggle into him.

“My date made me skip dinner last night. She couldn’t wait for her dessert,” he teases. I can feel the smile on his lips as he presses a kiss against my head. “Would you like to get some breakfast?”

“I can’t.” I look up at him, wishing I could spend the day wrapped in his arms. “I have to work today. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ve got my girls tonight.”

“What about Sunday night, then? I’ll make dinner.” I lift up and settle on his chest, looking down at him. I lean in to place a gentle kiss on his lips. Usually, I’m a stickler for oral hygiene, but I want to feel his lips on mine more than I care about my morning breath.

“Sunday is no good, babe.” He tenses against me, but his arms reach around me, holding me close. It’s all I need to know the reason why Sunday is a no-go.

“You have a date,” I state. My heart squeezes in my chest, telling me I might have invested more than my body during our time together.

“Yes,” he says, squashing any hope that I’m wrong. “I can come by afterwards if you want.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I shake my head and try pushing off him. Does he really believe he can go from his date’s bed to mine like that?

“Why not?” he asks. His reluctance to let me go makes me push harder, and he finally releases me. Staring up at me, he seems to be trying to figure out what’s happening. I slide off him and onto my back, covering myself with the sheet, trying to shield myself from him. Not that it matters; he’s seen every inch of me. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Cami?”

“Nothing. Sundays are usually pretty busy for me anyways, prepping for next week and all. I shouldn’t have asked.” I sit up and look around the room for something, anything, to put on. I need to get out of this bed before I hurl all over myself. The thought of him being with another woman, the way we were only hours ago, makes me sick. I need space to think, to sort out the mess in my head and my heart. His arms snake around my middle, pulling me into the hard nakedness of his chest.

“Are you upset because I have a date?”

“It’s okay, Ben. I get it. I’m not your only client.” I take a deep breath. My chest hurts too much to keep everything inside. “I just thought after last night…”

He waits for me to continue, but the courage I felt disappears. The reality of who he is and what he does comes crashing down on me. He’s an escort; of course there is going to be other women. One night with him doesn’t give me claim to him. Besides, I paid for our night together.

“After last night what?” He nudges me, tightening his hold on me. I lean into him, swallowing the hurt itching to spill out of me, remembering I’m just like the others now.

“It doesn’t matter, Ben.”

“Babe, if it bothers you, it matters.” There’s gentleness in his voice when he says the words. It eases the pain and calms my churning stomach. “Talk to me.”

“I thought maybe I was different. Maybe we were different.”

“You are different.” I don’t respond because I don’t know how to. If that were true, wouldn’t he cancel his dates? “You can come with me.”

“Are you crazy? I’m not going on your date with you.” Sitting up again, I exhale deeply. He can’t be serious.

“It’s not that kind of date. Come with me. Mrs. Morello would love the extra company.”

“Mrs. Morello?”

“Yes, my seventy-two-year-old date. That woman makes killer sauce. But Mrs. Boyle, my Wednesday night date, makes an Irish stew that will make your toes curl.”

“I don’t understand.” I stand, wrapping the sheet tightly around myself, and I turn to face him.

“I told you, it isn’t what you think. I’m not what you think.” He smirks up at me, the lines of his face soften, and his eyes tell me he’s speaking the truth. He reaches for my hand and lifts it to his lips. “I don’t fuck for money.”

“Then why did I give Jason my credit card number?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.

“Pomp and circumstance. Check your statement. You’ll see he didn’t charge you for any of the fees you discussed with him. And he won’t.” He pulls me into him again, leaning down to place a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Jason called me the moment you left his shop, which he planned to do as soon as you told him your name. He’s my best friend, babe. He knows what you are to me.”

“What am I to you?”

“Mine.” The word sounds like a confession—one that makes me soft on the inside and tingly down south. “You have been since the moment I laid eyes on you. Fucked up when I didn’t make my move back then.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m being serious.” He looks down at our connected hands, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. “You’re gorgeous, Cami. Everything a man could possibly want. You’re smart. Cute as hell, especially when you don’t realize you’re being cute. You even do this thing with a pencil, like you’re chewing on the end of the eraser, but you’re concentrating on something important. When you look up at me with those dark chocolate eyes, I sometimes forget how to breathe. You’re everything and more. You’re mine.”

“Ben—”

“My dates, I can’t give those up, Cami. Those women, they depend on me to show up every week.” He glances up at me and shows me his concern. “I can see if some of the other guys would be willing to take them on, but it depends on their schedules.”

“How many of them are there?” I ask carefully, bracing myself for his answers.

“Four.”

“But you don’t sleep with any of them?”

He chuckles, maybe because he senses the jealousy brewing inside of me, but it does nothing to help ease it. “No, babe, I don’t sleep with them. But I’m not going to lie. I have slept with clients in the past. No one recent, and it’s been a long time since I took on a new client.”

“You took me on.”

“You’re not a client.” I find his honesty inspiring and decide to trust him, giving him another piece of me.

“I like you, too. I mean, from the start.” I swallow hard, afraid to put myself out there with him but needing to do it. “I was married before. He was a jerk. He hurt me, and since then, I’ve been cautious. You’re the first man to make me feel comfortable, like I’m good enough. I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not with you.”

“I like who you are, Cami. I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

“I want to be with you, too, Ben.” He cups my face and kisses me, wiping away any remaining worries or concerns. “What now?”

“Now, we take it one day at a time,” he responds, pulling back a little. “I’m not going anywhere, Cami. I get you got a past. I do, too. But that’s all it is. Our past.”

“Will you leave The Meat Market?”

“Meeting with the guys on Monday, planned on doing it then.”

Feeling brave, I drop the sheet from my chest and turn to straddle him. He pushes my messy hair away from my face and looks at me with adoration in his eyes. “We got some things to work out, but I don’t want to think about it anymore, Ben.”

“When do you have to be at work?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I feel a cold coming on.” I smile down at him as I wrap my arms and legs around him. Lowering my head, I brush my lips lightly against his, teasing him. “Maybe I should call in sick.”

“I think that’s the best thing you’ve said all morning.” He reaches up and claims my lips in one swift motion, stealing the breath from my lungs and ultimately my heart.