5

Stella’s eyes shot open, and she took in the bright interior of the hotel room. After groping at the surface of the nightstand, she found her glasses. The digital clock read 9:24 A.M. Her heart lurched.

She’d slept in. She never slept in.

When she sat up in bed, the blankets fell to her waist, and cool air touched her bare skin. She was wearing yesterday’s underclothes. Alarm sirens wailed in her head as she realized she’d completely skipped her night routine. She hadn’t flossed, brushed, showered, and put on pajamas. She had stuffed a dirty body into these clean sheets—well, they were definitely dirty sheets now. Good thing she didn’t have to sleep in them again.

Michael stepped out of the bathroom, freshly showered with a white towel around his lean hips. His tattoo looked particularly sexy in the light of day. He grinned around his toothbrush. “Morning.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth. Her breath had to be rancorous.

He strode casually across the room and dug through a small overnight bag he must have retrieved from his car. It hadn’t been with him last night. As he extracted fresh clothes from the bag, Stella watched the fluid bunch and play of the intricate muscles on his back, admired the twin grooves at the base of his spine. She wanted to touch her fingertips to those dents. Then she wanted to take the towel off and—

“It stops on my right thigh,” he said, glancing at her over his shoulder.

It? What was it?

Blinking furiously to clear her mind, she noticed that his tattoo wrapped around his hip, disappeared beneath the towel, and peeked out behind his knee. The dragon had wound itself around his torso and one of his legs. She imagined she’d be doing the same thing throughout the course of their arrangement—which they still needed to discuss.

She parted her lips to speak, but the chalkiness of her mouth overwhelmed her. She jumped out of bed, only then remembering she was all but naked, grabbed the first article of clothing she saw—his white T-shirt from yesterday—and sprinted to the bathroom as she yanked it over her head.

Once inside, she lunged for her floss and ran the thread between all of her teeth. Twice. When nothing heinous came free, she breathed a sigh of relief and went about brushing at a more sedate pace.

He entered the bathroom, and she stepped aside so he could spit into the sink, feeling horribly self-conscious with toothpaste foaming from her mouth. Why couldn’t she look sexy like him when she brushed her teeth? After rinsing out his mouth and patting it dry with a hand towel, he leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. He smelled of hotel soap, minty toothpaste, and . . . himself. That elusive scent still clung to him. She supposed it emanated from his pores. Lucky him. Lucky her.

As she continued brushing her teeth, keeping her eyes awkwardly glued to the bubbles in the sink, he left the bathroom. Pausing midbrush, she heard it: the rustle of fabric. He was getting dressed. That meant he was naked. Without a qualm, she rushed to the doorway and peered out.

Her lungs depressed when she saw him pulling clean jeans over his boxers. He yanked on a tight black T-shirt and sat down to pull on black socks. He had to be leaving soon.

She hurried to finish brushing her teeth and caught him just as he tied his last shoelace.

“We have to talk,” she said.

The look on his face as he straightened in the chair made her stomach bottom out. He was going to back out. Last night had been a fiasco filled with panic attacks and fear sweat, and he wanted nothing to do with her now. She tightened her lips when they threatened to tremble. It had been bad, but there had been good parts. Hadn’t there?

She’d thought she had a chance.

“I have something at ten I shouldn’t miss.” He stood, looped the strap of his bag over his shoulder, and walked to her with a loose stride. His eyes were heartbreakingly kind as he looked at her.

Or was it pity? She hated pity.

“I need you to tell me if we’re moving forward with the lessons or not.”

He shook his head with a sad smile. “I’m afraid not. I’m sorry.”

Her heart plummeted, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret last night. He’d gotten her to kiss him—really kiss him, not lie there and cringe as he stuck his tongue in her mouth. “I’ll leave you another five-star review.”

“I don’t deserve it. I never sealed the deal. The agency doesn’t issue refunds, but I’d be happy to return my share of the commission. Give me your account—”

“No, no refund,” she said firmly. “Thanks, but no. I’m sure you had to work harder with me than most of your other clients.”

“Not really, no.”

She interlaced her fingers and stared down at the floor. She did not want to ask this, but she had to. “I know you need to go, but first, could you . . . recommend . . . a colleague who you think would work well with me?”

“After last night, you still want to go forward with these crazy lessons?”

“They’re not crazy, but yes, I plan to move forward.” She forced her eyes up to his stony face and took a determined breath. “Maybe if you think about it a while, you’ll remember someone who’s . . . patient, like you, a-and doesn’t mind sweat or—”

He took a half step toward her, and his jaw worked for a moment before he said, “Girls like you don’t need escorts. Girls like you have boyfriends. You need to get this idea out of your head.”

Burning anger pulsed through her body, immobilizing her. He didn’t know anything about girls like her. “That’s completely untrue. Girls like me intimidate boyfriends away. Girls like me have never been asked out by a single boy. Girls like me have to find their own way, make their own luck. I’ve had to fight for every success in my life, and I’m going to fight for this. I’m going to get good at sex, and then I’ll finally be able to entice the right person into being mine.”

“Stella, it doesn’t work that way. You don’t need these lessons.”

“I don’t agree with you. Please, think about it? I trust your judgment.” She rushed to her purse, extracted a business card, and scrawled her cell number on the back. Placing it in his hand, she said, “I’d really appreciate it. Thank you.”

He stuffed the card into his back pocket with a hard jab of his hand. “What will you do if I don’t give you a name?”

She shrugged. “My selection process was pretty good the first time around. I’ll just go through the escort listings again.”

“Do you know how many crack jobs there are in there? It’s not safe.” He lifted a hand like he wanted to touch her but fisted and withdrew it instead.

“Are you saying your agency’s guarantee of safety is meaningless?”

He growled in frustration and raked his fingers through his damp hair, making it stand on end. “There’s a vetting process with psych evals and background checks, but people can slip through the cracks. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Stella tipped her chin up. “I’m not stupid. I have a Taser.”

“You have what?”

She snatched the pink C2 Taser from her purse and handed it over.

“Holy hell, do you even know how to use it?” He stared at it with eyes so rounded she would have laughed if the situation had been any different.

“You slide the safety back, aim, and hit the button. It’s very simple.”

“Would you have used it on me?”

“I didn’t, so clearly the answer is no.”

When he rotated it and stared at it in horrified fascination, she grabbed it from him. “Never aim it at yourself.” After plopping it in her purse, she crossed her arms and said, “As you can see, I have the situation under control, but I appreciate your concern.”

The thought of perusing the escort ads again made her grind her teeth. None of those men interested her anymore. Once her mind was made up, it was made up. The only one she wanted was Michael, but she’d botched things so badly he couldn’t stand to see her again. How was she supposed to get better if her problem kept driving away the people who could help her?

Her bitterness must have shown because his expression softened. “Stella, I don’t do repeat sessions. Otherwise, I’d take you up on your offer.”

“Why?” she asked on a frustrated exhalation.

“I used to do it in the past. A client got attached, and things blew out of control. The single-session policy has saved me and my clients a lot of grief.”

“You mean you knew ahead of time you weren’t going to accept?” Blackness threatened to spill over and stain her insides. She’d thought he was a potential solution to her problem. Now, it looked like it had been nothing but a one-night stand from the start.

He nodded curtly.

“Why did you stay last night, then? I was up front with you about what I wanted. All of the k-kissing and touching, my clothes, I did that for nothing.” Her throat swelled so much that near the end, she could barely force the words out.

She pressed hot palms to her forehead, trying to deal with this betrayed feeling. The pain and shame were so unexpected, she had trouble breathing. Why had he made her do those things? Had it been a game? Had he thought it was funny?

How come she never understood people?

“I honestly didn’t believe you,” he said. “At most, I thought you had a confidence problem that would go away after we were together. Besides, you paid in advance. I wanted you to get your money’s worth.”

“You wanted to show me a good time.”

“Well . . . yeah. That’s why people hire me.”

“But that’s not why I hired you.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose and righted her glasses, suddenly hollowed out and exhausted. “It doesn’t matter. You should get going, or you’ll be late.”

As if from a distance, she was aware of her feet bringing her to the door and her palm gripping the handle, pulling it open.

He took a breath as if he meant to speak but ended up shutting his mouth before he could say anything. He swept past her and paused on the other side of the doorway, considering her. “I’m sorry to leave with things like this. Be safe, okay?”

She looked away from him and nodded.

“Good-bye, Stella.”

He padded down the hall, and she shut the door. The locks engaged with a final click.

She should shower. She’d basically slept in her sweat last night. But when she touched her clothes, she realized she was wearing Michael’s shirt. She pressed her cheek to her shoulder and inhaled his scent. After sniffing her arms and hair, she discovered it was all over her.

What did she do now?

Her body itched with the need to wash, but if she showered, that precious smell would be gone. And there wasn’t ever going to be any more of it. This was it.

She sank to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest to keep the loneliness at bay. She ached so badly to be held it felt like a sickness had invaded her muscles and bones. As usual, her own arms provided little comfort. She’d give herself five minutes, and then she’d get ready for work. It was only Saturday morning, and she’d already had more weekend than she could handle. If she didn’t find a way to occupy her mind, she’d spiral into something dark and bleak—was already spiraling.

Three quick knocks rapped on the door, and she stood up mechanically. It was probably housecleaning, checking to see if she’d left yet.

She opened the door, and Michael stared back at her with an intense gaze. His chest labored like he’d sprinted the entire way back from his car.

“Three sessions. That’s the most I’ll do,” he said.

It took her a moment to understand that by sessions he meant lessons, but when she did, her heart sprinted so fast her fingers went numb. He was going to help her. Could three lessons possibly be enough to perfect sex? There was so much she had to learn, so much she was bad at, but what choice did she have? Maybe if they planned everything out very carefully . . .

With her limbs frozen in shock, all she could manage to say was, “Okay.”

He considered her, the muscles of his jaw taut. “If we do this thing, you have to promise not to go crazy when it ends.”

“I can promise that,” she said through the roaring in her ears.

“I mean it. No stalking, no calling, no outrageous gifts. None of that.” His fingers were tight around the strap of his bag as he awaited her response, and his expression was dead serious.

“Okay.”

He unlooped the bag from his shoulders and let it fall to the ground before he stepped toward her, not stopping until her back was pressed against the open door. He flattened a hand on the door next to her face and leaned down. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay.” He’d shaken her brain into malfunctioning, and apparently that was all she could say now.

He touched his lips to hers, and pleasure jolted to her heart, down her arms, down her legs. Tilting his head, he kissed her deeper. Once. Twice. Again. Until she sighed and leaned into him, tangled her fingers in his cool hair. He claimed her mouth with his tongue in a way that was new and familiar at once. She kissed him back with everything in her, trying to tell him all the things she wasn’t articulate enough to say.

“God, Stella,” he rasped against her lips, his dark eyes dazed and heavy-lidded. “You learned that fast.”

Before she could respond, he took her mouth again. She forgot about the time, forgot about work, even forgot about her anxiety. His large body rubbed against hers, and she arched into him, reveling in his closeness.

Her phone buzzed with her mother’s ring tone.

Michael tore away at once, flushed and breathing heavily. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he stared deep into her eyes, looking like he was two seconds away from kissing her again.

“I should get that.” She slipped inside, sat on the edge of the bed, and pressed the talk button on her phone with a shaky thumb. “Hello?”

“Stella dear, your father’s—oh, hold on a second.” Her father’s deep voice rumbled on the other end, and Stella held the phone away from her ear as her parents discussed golf and lunch plans.

Michael approached her with a fluid-limbed gait. “I need to go, but we’re on for next Friday.”

“Next Friday,” she confirmed with a nod.

Instead of leaving immediately as she expected, he leaned down and brushed a fleeting kiss to her mouth. “Good-bye, Stella.”

She watched his departure in a dazed state. They were meeting again. In a week.

“Who was that?” Even with the phone several inches from her ear, Stella could hear her mother’s surprise.

“That was . . . Michael.” A breathless kind of nervousness filled her. She might like it that her mother had discovered her male visitor.

A brief silence ensued, followed by, “Stella dear, did you spend the night with a man?”

“It’s not what you think. We didn’t do anything. Other than kissing.” The best kissing of Stella’s life.

“Well, why ever not?”

Stella’s mouth worked without issuing words.

“You’re a mature adult, and you make good choices. Now, tell me all about this Michael.”