The firm mattress sighs as I sink onto the edge of the round bed, fear coiling itself tighter in the pit of my stomach. I had two weeks to prepare myself for his return, to brace myself. He’ll be here any second and I’m far from being ready to see him again.

I wipe the sweat off the tip of my nose, but more trickles down my back and between my breasts.

I yank a tissue from a box on one of the bedside tables and run it down my cleavage and across the back of my neck.

I’d thought coming to the white room before he does would give me the upper hand, an injection of confidence. I’ve never felt weaker or more afraid, or this pissed off at fate. How would I be able to look him in the eye and not show my true self? What if he sees past the blue contact lenses or my wig falls off and he sees my true hair color?

Sliding my hands between my knees, I press hard, forcing myself to be still. But I break out in a sweat every time the rumble of a car approaching vibrates through the walls, the headlights making the curtains glow. Each time a car door slams shut, it could be him exiting. Any moment now, he would show up.

I glance at the clock and my spine straightens as a calming thought pushes its way to the forefront of my mind. He’s five minutes late. What if I’m worried about nothing? Two weeks is a long time. He could have changed his mind. Do I dare hope?

Although, if Derrick LaClaire is still the same guy I knew in school, he’ll be here. If he wanted a girl, he got her.

My stomach churns each time I hear a commotion in the hallway outside. Stilettos tap the floor, one of the other girls screams with real or feigned pleasure, low murmurs filter through the slits around the door. The sounds drift into the room to merge with the drum of my heart and the tick tock sounds of the clock.

Then I hear him. Every fiber of my being warns me he’s the owner of the calm, controlled footfalls coming down the hallway.

My insides quivering, I dim the lights to the lowest level and position myself on the bed. The less of me he sees, the better.

The door opens and he fills the doorway only for a second before stepping in. He’s wearing a dark suit with a matching loosened tie. His gleaming, black hair tapers neatly to his collar.

As he closes the door behind him, I run my tongue around my mouth to chase off the dryness but it doesn’t help. Suddenly, I’m back in high school, helpless to his charm, fooled by his words. Even though I’ve despised him for many years, he still has a grip on me.

I hold my breath and wait for him to say something. Normally, I’m the conversation starter, my aim to make the client feel as comfortable as possible. Both my breath and my words are trapped inside my throat. He moves closer into the room, comes to stand near the bed. I forget how to breathe as he shrugs off his jacket, draping it over the leather chair, never taking his eyes off me.

“Switch on the lights, Ruby.” His voice rings with command. “I want to see you.”

“Are you . . . are you sure?” I lower my voice to a purr. “I thought it’s more romantic this way?”

He comes to me, places a finger under my chin so my head is tipped back and I’m gazing into his deep, dark eyes. “I want to see every inch of your body from head to toe.”

“Whatever you want, babe.” I swallow hard and move away from his scalding touch. Biting down on my lip, tasting my lipstick, I reach for a switch nearest to the bed, press it with a fake fingernail. Bright, yellow light floods the room.

For a moment he watches me, just standing there, his hooded gaze pinned on me. Even without his hands on my body, he is already making love to me. He narrows his gaze and I tense up. Can he read my mind? Can he see through the makeup, see the true soul at the other side of the contact lenses?

He steps back. “You are a beautiful woman. Why do you feel the need to wear so much makeup?”

“Because I like it,” I lie.

“Well, you don’t need it, I can tell you that much.”

“Thank you.” I lower my gaze and ignore the pain in my gut, the pain of what he has done to me. No amount of compliments can erase it.

“It’s not a compliment. It’s the truth.” He wedges himself between my legs, placing his hands on my shoulders. I fall back on the bed, expecting him to lower himself over my body. He doesn’t.

He moves away from between my legs, and unbuckles his belt.

In a moment, his pants fall to the floor as he continues to watch me. And while he’s undressing, I remove a condom from the white box. I open it immediately, desperate to get this over and done with. The sooner he gets what he wants, the sooner he’ll be out of my life.

“Did you get the money?” He opens his cufflinks and places them on the dressing table. “The tip I gave Hector to pass on to you.”

“Yes. You didn’t need to.” I rise and approach him, ready to dress him.

“It’s my money. I do with it as I please.” He plays with a strand of my hair. “Just don’t leave me hanging tonight.”

“I don’t intend to.”

He moves away from me, sits back on the bed, legs wide apart, his dick rising from the short, dark hairs between his legs.

Instant desire flickers between my legs. How could my body crave him after the pain he put me through? Being in the same room as him, breathing the same air is the last thing my mind wants. But my body is the worst kind of traitor.

I avert my gaze as I roll the condom down his hard shaft, happy he’s not asking for foreplay. The longer we spend time together, the more chances he gets to study me.

Before he can give me instructions, I take the lead and head straight to the deep end. I turn my back to him, making myself comfortable between his legs, and slide onto him. A gasp of pleasure bubbles up in my throat but I swallow it back down. Harnessing my raw emotions and feelings, I move up and down. But my body explodes with heat and fireworks as he places his hands on both sides of my hips, guiding me, his breath hot on my spine. I want this to be over. I want to make him come so he can leave, but at the same time I want it to last, for him to stay inside me.

I’m on a high and my head is swimming with desire, when he tightens his hands around my waist and lifts me off, his dick sliding out of my body, leaving behind an empty feeling.

He pulls me to my feet and turns me around, places a hand on the nape of my neck. I know what I have to do. I bend over and before I can settle myself on my arms, he slides back into me with a force that takes my breath away. He moves in and out, his strokes slow and measured, gentle and hard. One of his hands is on my lower back, the fingers splayed upward, his thumb pushing into the crack of my butt, while his other hand cups my vagina.

I bite down on my lip so hard I taste blood. I don’t know how long my trembling knees will hold me upright. The more he grinds into me, the weaker my body gets, and my resistance.

I feel like shit for allowing myself to enjoy him but I can’t help myself as I come closer and closer to having an orgasm. I gyrate, as our bodies slam into each other and then part way too quickly. A drop of his sweat falls onto my back. It slides down along my ribcage.

A quiver surges through my entire body. He’s making me feel alive again, bringing back to life the part of me he had killed. He feels like a part of me that I didn’t even know was missing.

My whimpers fill the room as he drives deep into my body, my very soul. His breath and moans arouse my ears as much as my pussy.

“You were worth waiting for,” he whispers. “You are worth every penny I intend to pay you tonight.”

Normally I would say something, talk dirty to the client. But all I say is, “I’m glad.”

“I’ve been looking forward to this night for a while. I couldn’t wait to see you again.” He gives me a slap on one of my butt cheeks, not enough to hurt, just enough to elicit ecstasy.

“I’m, oh . . . I’m glad you came back.”

In response, he withdraws and spins me around so I’m flat on my back. Closing my eyes so he doesn’t look into them, I open my legs wide. He plants his strong hands around my ankles, lifting my legs off the bed, placing them on his shoulders, and continues to fuck me.

I’m completely undone now, exposed. If he looks closer, I’m sure he’d see who I really am. Right now, I’m finding it hard to hide from him, to hide from the past.

“Oh my God, you are amazing. Your pussy feels incredible around my cock.”

I react to his words with fire exploding in my belly, spiraling through my entire body but I force myself to hold off, to stay in control. He should come first.

“Talk to me, baby.” He moves faster and deeper, his voice a croak. “I want to hear your voice when I come.”

“Your dick makes my pussy so wet. Fuck me harder.” In my mind, I pretend he’s not paying me to have sex with him, that we’re making love instead of fucking.

“That’s good, baby.” He crashes into me. “Keep going.”

“Oh god, you’re driving me insane.” My body loses control without my permission and I come hard, the orgasm rocking my entire being. “Oh, Derrick. Oooh!”

He stops moving and my eyes fly open, the blood rushing from my face.

Shit. I blew it.