I have my assortment of skincare products in clear glass jars on the small table of my hotel suite’s kitchenette.

One is for moisture. This is the most important one. I researched the best natural moisturizers when I was developing this back in high school.

It was a pain in the freaking ass, I’ll say that much, but I continued with it because I really enjoyed it, despite what an annoyance it was. This was back before every person in a given household had internet on their personal devices. Up in rural New York, we only had one crappy dial-up internet connection on the one crappy computer in our dining room.

The thing was useless. I had to rely on library books to do my research, and I traveled to the small town of Woodstock to obtain the supplies I needed.

Another bottle contains a product for blemishes. Still another is for overall skin texture.

I probably could have done something more with these products. I probably could have worked a little bit harder, scaled up, obtained a license to produce them for commercial consumption instead of just gifting them to my friends and family, and sold them to small shops in my town.

I sigh and survey what I’ve laid out before me on the table. Jason’s on his way to help me practice my talent, but I’ve been giving this presentation for so long, helping people with their public speaking skills since I was in college, that I could do this presentation in my sleep.

A knock at the door makes my heart flutter.

I go over to the door and open it without checking the peephole. I’m too excited to see him.

“Hi babe,” he says casually, wrapping his big arms around my shoulders. “Alright, what are we working with here?”

I feel like I’m floating as we make our way into the kitchenette, where Jason takes a seat at the table.

“This is my talent,” I say, “teaching people how to be confident speaking in front of others.”

“Intriguing,” Jason says, leaning back in his chair. I feel a spear of heat between my legs.

This is getting ridiculous.

“Thank you,” I say, nodding with a smile.

“So, public speaking. Does that mean you tell people to picture the audience in their underwear?” Jason smirks.

“You might be laughing, but yes, kind of, I do. It’s about taking the pressure off. Thinking about your audience as people who are equal to you. So, if you feel vulnerable, you need to think about the audience as vulnerable too. And there’s no better shortcut to that than imagining them in their skivvies.”

“Underpants,” he says, “the great equalizer.”

“Something like that.”

“So Cassie, let’s see you do it. Sell me on something.”

“Okay, so let’s see. Well, first of all, these are just props. The idea of being confident with public speaking is tied into believing that you have something to sell, like I was saying before on the phone. So, when you’re selling something, the idea is to make it seem like the person who is buying will be better off with what you’ve got to sell.”

“It helps if you’ve got a good product, which I know you do,” he says.

“Remember when I poured Elmer’s glue all over your hands and told you that it was an exfoliator?”

“Of course I remember,” he replies, “and of course I believed you. It seemed logical.”

Just because something seems logical doesn’t make it right.

Right now, what we’re doing seem logical, but my heart is still unsure whether it’s right.

“Okay,” I say, “so for the pageant, I am going to take a volunteer from the audience to come out on to the boardwalk with me and grab a passer-by.”

“A passer-by who has already been fully screened and approved, right?” he interjects.

“No,” I say, “it’s genuinely going to be a random person.”

“Fine,” he says incredulously, raising an eyebrow, “and then what?”

“Then I am going to just be myself. The secret, I believe, is not being overly aggressive. The secret is making a genuine connection with the person.”

I am aware that I sound a little bit ridiculous, but I swear this stuff works. More importantly, the whole point is not to really sell something, but to make the person you are instructing feel important - because they are. Everyone is. It’s just up to them to find it within him or herself and believe it.

“So sell me this stuff,” Jason says, eyeing the line of products on the table. “Make me buy.”

“Okay,” I say, flashing him a nervous smile, my belly flipping over. Maybe I’m not so good at this after all. “Sir, you have beautiful skin. But I have something that might keep it beautiful. I use it myself.”

“Ma’am,” he replies, standing up slowly and putting his hands on the table, “you don’t get a guy alone in your hotel room to sell him a bottle of moisturizer.”

“Jason,” I say thickly, my heart pounding, “am I going to show your my presentation or not?”

I looks me up and down, stepping around the table to my side, picks me up and puts my ass down on the table.

“Not.”

“But I have to practice!” I laugh, even though it isn’t true. He knows it. I know it.

We both know why he’s here.

He pushes my legs apart on the small table and grinds himself into me, picking me up as I wrap my legs around him.

The man of my damn dreams carries me over to the bathroom and flips the lights on.

“I have to go to this stupid suit fitting,” he says, “and I haven’t taken a shower yet today. I wanna get nice and fresh for the fitting. You care to join me?”

I watch in awe of his incredibly sexy body as he peels the shirt over his head, shedding it like a second skin. He unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants down so he’s standing naked in front of me, then walks over to the shower in the large bathroom.

I can’t help but look down at his ass when he walks away from me. He catches my glance in the mirror above the double vanity and winks as he keeps walking toward the shower.

Groaning, I bury my face in my hands and shake my head.

Jason Anderson has caught me staring at his ass. Of course.

I feel like that girl again, the girl with the crush. Because, really, that’s what I still am.

Jason turns the shower on and the bathroom quickly fills with steam, making the air between us hot and moist. I always hated that word - moist - but I suddenly like it. I watch as he steps toward me and takes my face in his hands, kissing me as though he possesses all of the confidence in the world.

When we signed that document, I didn’t know what I was getting into - and how could I have? This is thoroughly foreign territory, of course. And when I told him we had to act like that first night at the hotel never happened, I was guarding my heart.

But I can’t say no to him. I can’t help myself when I see him with his shirt off, and then when his hands begin to roam my body. I’ve just wanted this for too damn long, and even if this is just a fling for him, I have to be okay with it. I have to be okay with accepting the possibility of just going back to being friends after this.

Because I have no other option.

And I couldn’t say no to him right now. I don’t want to. I want to scream yes all night long, beg him to take me over and over again.

Jason pushes me into the shower, pulling my robe off me and kicking it aside. He guides me under the steaming hot water, just approaching slightly too hot, making any doubt in my mind about the situation wash off my skin like silk falling from my shoulders on a warm summer evening.

Pinning me against the wall, he slides down my body, making a trail of kisses down my chest until he gets to my breasts. I feel my pussy becoming engorged with blood and so damn wet as he flicks his tongue and fingers against my nipples, making them rock-hard and soaked with the hot water pounding down on us.

I let out a low moan as he slides farther down my body, placing sweet, eager kisses on my belly. When he gets just above my pussy, he spreads me open, kissing my clit gently before snaking his tongue around it.

“Jason, that feels incredible,” I breathe. I am soaking wet, and all I want is for him to enter me, fill me up and make me feel so damn good - forget everything, and most of all, forget myself.

No - most of all, I need to forget that I don’t know how this whole thing is going to end.

He slips a finger inside me and swirls his tongue in fast circles against my clit, making the pressure inside me build so fast that I’m about to cum already.

“Jason, please fuck me,” I beg as he bends one of my legs and slips it over his shoulder. He puts his hand under my ass and squeezes, kneading my flesh as he eats me out.

I look down as he shakes his head, my hands grabbing onto him.

“Please?” I groan, my head falling back gently on the wall of the shower.

He just keeps licking and sucking my clit, pushing his finger in and out of my pussy firmly but gently.

God, is he really going to make me beg for his cock?

“Come on,” I groan, “gimme.”

“You can keep begging, baby,” he says with a chuckle, pulling his lips away from me, “but I’m not in the mood to give you my cock right now. I like to hear you beg, and I like the way you taste.”

He puts his lips back onto my pussy, kissing and licking my clit like he can’t get enough of it. I lace my fingers through his hair, and even though I want his cock right now, I could get used to this, too.

Fuck.

No - don’t get used to this, Cass. Don’t.

“Please,” I sigh again, unable to control my words, unable to control my thoughts. “Jason, please...I need it.”

He pulls away from me softly and I watch as he smiles up at me, sending a dull ache through my heart. I feel myself clench up on the insides, my belly turning over with everything I want to say to him right now.

And he keeps going, bringing me so damn fast to the point of no return - I cry out, the orgasm rolling through my body like crashing, crushing heat through my core, my limbs. He doesn’t stop or even slow down, and I pant hard and crush myself against him, forgetting myself completely.

I nearly forget where I am, but I know who’s here with me.

Jason kisses my belly as he moves up, caging me against the wall of the shower as he makes his way up my body.

“Okay,” he says, kissing me on the cheek, “now stop distracting me. I have to take a shower.”

He smirks and runs his hands through my hair, and I collapse against his chest, throw my arms around his neck, and can’t stop smiling.

I feel like I’ve been hit with a truck of emotion. In a good way, if that makes any sense. It’s as though I’ve been run over in the middle of the road, and I’m just laying here, looking up at the sky, unable to move. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, but when Jason kisses my cheek and squeezes some shower gel into a loofah and looks back at me like he feels totally comfortable with me being here, I feel my breath hitch deep inside my throat.

Don’t get used to this, Cass.

Don’t.

“Hey, Cass?” Jason says, scrubbing the loofah against his back. “I wanted to ask you something.”

I watch him as he turns slightly, tipping his chin over his shoulder. His lips are so damn kissable, and the way he’s looking at me right now is making me melt inside.

“What is it?” I ask, taking a step forward and putting my arms around his waist.

I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist myself. I lean my head against the back of his big, broad shoulders, the steam rising around us as the hot water falls down on us, and I close my eyes.

I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know what to think. This all feels too damn real.

“You know how they have that gala thing tomorrow night?” he says casually.

The gala. Yes, I am well-aware of the gala. It’s the biggest event of the week, aside from the actual pageant, and we each have an escort for it. It has already been written into the contract that Jason will be my escort.

“Yeah, of course,” I say. Jason turns around and runs his loofah over me, rubbing my shoulders with it, pushing my hair away from my face.

“You wanna go with me?” he asks, not looking at my eyes.

I feel a hitch deep inside my chest. That same feeling I had moments ago when I reminded myself - scolded myself and made myself remember - to not let this get to my head.

I can’t let this get to my head. This is just a fun week together. This is something that Jason Anderson is used to doing. This is his thing. I’ve known him forever, and that means I know what he does.

I know what he is.

“We have to go together,” I say, forcing a smile. “You’re contractually obligated to go with me.”

He smirks and shakes his head, turns me around by the shoulders, laces his powerful fingers through my hair, and kisses the back of my neck.

My face falls forward and I close my eyes as a shock of pure electricity bolts through my veins.

“You don’t get it, Cassie,” he says. “You never did.”

I swallow hard, pushing my eyelids open. They’re heavy with the shower water and the post-orgasmic haze that Jason has thrust me into.

He can’t mean what I think he means.

Jason Anderson kisses one shoulder and kneads the other with his fingertips. The pressure if flirting with slightly too much, but I like it.

“Clue me in, then,” I say.

I’m about to turn around, but instead of being able to indulge in the sweetness of his gaze, against all of the voices inside my head telling me not to, I hear a knock at the door of my hotel room.

“Shit,” he whispers, a laugh in his voice. “You hear that?”

“Yeah,” I sigh.

“You stay here. I’ll tell whoever it is that I came up here to grab something for you. I’ll tell them you’re out. You stay in here and clean up. That’s one thing I know you people need.”

“You people?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, sliding the glass shower door open, letting the steam inside the shower spread over the rest of the bathroom like the fog on the lake behind our houses growing up. “Beauty queens. You have to smell good and shit.”

“Of course,” I say, watching him as he begins to towel off.

He leaves the bathroom with just a towel around his waist, and I step under the shower.

I want to go to the gala as his date - as his actual, honest, real date. Of course I want that.

My heart wants it. My body wants it. I can’t help it. I want him.

But I don’t want to get hurt.

I don’t want to be walled off, though. I want to let myself open up for him. The past few days have been incredible. His kiss, his touch, the way he knows every damn thing about me. The stories, the shared history, the anecdotes he told Cynthia.

I close my eyes and allow the water hit me in big, hot pellets against my skin.

And somewhere, in the short distance between me and the front door that Jason’s opening up for my unexpected visitor, I hear a woman’s voice.