After their talk, things were easier between them. More natural. But while Ryan was able to relax into Ben’s company, there was a still a general feeling of isolation Ryan couldn’t shake. It wasn’t that Ben tried to dissuade her from going out, but rather that she didn’t really have anywhere to go. She didn’t have another job to go to and the few friends she did have would’ve asked questions she couldn’t answer. Well, all except one. Which is why, over breakfast one morning, Ryan found herself blurting out, “Can I have a friend over?”

Ben’s eyes narrowed slightly as he set his spoon down into his bowl. “That makes me feel weird.”

Ryan’s face twisted in confusion. “What does?”

“You asked that like you were a teenager asking your father for permission.”

Smirking at him, Ryan replied, “And that makes you feel weird? You have a daddy kink I didn’t know about?”

“Why would I feel weird about it if I had a kink like that?”

Ryan took a bite of her bagel. “Solid point. Though you did seemed to like it when I called you sugar daddy.”

“I guess if you take my being horrified as me liking it, then sure.”

She shrugged before putting down her bagel and then rubbing her hands together to dislodge any crumbs. “Still, it’s your place so I do need permission. Especially since it could violate our arrangement.”

Ben’s head jerked up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the person I’d invite over is my roommate Camille. She knows about our . . . thing.”

“Thing?”

“You said I could tell someone vaguely what was going on, and she’s that person. But if I invite her over here, she’s going to figure out who you are. Though it will help me get her off my back because she’s been asking for me to give her your address in case I turned up in the Delaware River.”

Ben raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not saying that I’m worried about that. But put yourself in her shoes. She doesn’t have a lot of concrete information to work with if something were to happen to me other than an anonymous famous guy is paying me to pretend I’m his girlfriend.”

“Why’d you even tell her that much?” Ben didn’t sound angry, but his face didn’t give much away.

“Because it had been a long, weird night and I needed to tell someone. I couldn’t have known that I’d end up living with you.”

Ben sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I need to be really careful about protecting my identity. People can’t know about you being an escort. If word ever got out—”

“Your friends know,” she interrupted. The words sounded defensive, but she couldn’t help it. Hearing him call her an escort stung her for reasons she couldn’t explain. It was what she was. Or at least what she was supposed to be. It shouldn’t make a knot form in her chest to hear Ben say the words.

“Yeah, but they’re my friends who I know I can trust with my secret.” Ben leaned forward, pushed his plate back, and put his arms on the table. “Can’t you meet her somewhere else? Why does she need to come here?”

Because she thinks you’re a serial killer with the heads of past victims in the walls. “She’s concerned about our situation. Letting her come here would at least—in her mind—give her a place to send the police if I go missing. You wouldn’t even need to be here. She’s not MacGyver. She wouldn’t be able to track down who owns the place.”

Ben shook his head and laughed.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because MacGyver wasn’t a detective. He was a guy who made weird shit with normal crap around the house.”

“MacGyver was a secret agent. My analogy totally works.”

“He was?” Ben asked. When Ryan nodded, he added, “It still sounds weird.”

“Fine. Columbo. How’s that?”

“Do you know any TV references from this century?” he asked.

“You’re being really annoying.”

“What can I say? It’s what I do best.”

Ryan gave him an unimpressed look in return.

Ben ran a hand over his face. “You trust her?”

“Yes.” Ryan hadn’t hesitated in responding, but even after thinking it over she realized it was true. She trusted Camille.

“Okay, fine. Invite her over.”

Ryan jumped up and circled the table so she could throw her arms around Ben. “Thanks.”

“Jesus Christ, stop attacking me,” Ben grumbled as he tried to unwind her arms from his neck.

But Ryan wasn’t letting go. Instead, she sat on his lap and looked intently at him. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Ben’s hands gently gripped her forearms, his thumbs rubbing over the soft skin. “Thank you for trusting me not to dump you in the Delaware.”

Ryan smiled as she pressed her lips to Ben’s. The kiss started soft and intimate, but it escalated quickly and naturally—a coming together of bodies that intrinsically knew what they wanted and knew they could have it now that sex with him actually relieved the pressure of the lie she was living.

And when Ben laid her out on his bed and pushed inside of her, her brain formed a stray thought that surprised her: This must be what coming home feels like. It had been a long time since she’d had a home, and the one she’d had hadn’t ever fully felt like hers. Even though her grandparents had loved her, she’d also felt like a burden to them. But she wasn’t a burden here. Here she was wanted—needed even—and the knowledge made the sex more intense, made her orgasm wash over her like a tidal wave, made her cling to Ben as he thrust into her and chased his own release. When he caught it, the look on his face was beautiful and pure and . . . fuck, she wanted to sear it into her brain so she could recall the memory whenever she needed to.

Because she was pretty sure no one would ever look at her like that again. The thought was both thrilling and devastating.