Jesus.
I didn’t even recognize myself.
Normally, I wasn’t the comforting type. Normally, I held everyone at arm’s length, everyone except Marcus, precisely because I’d always known Icouldn’tbe the comforting type, not to the kind of partner I truly wanted… and fuck if all that repression hadn’t worn on me. Honestly, it had been exhausting, even before the ordeal I’d just gone through to rid myself of my unwanted marriage.
My brother must have picked up on that. His “party favor” had been well-intentioned. He’d just been trying to give me a taste of what I’d never let myself have before. But what Marcus didn’t know—and how would he, since it was a topic I’d made a point never to discuss?—was that even now, free and finally unencumbered after decades of self-denial, I simply wasn’t wired for casual sex. Hell, I wasn’t wired for casualanything. A lifetime of denying my sexuality didn’t mean I wasn’t aware of it, but it went further than my attraction to men. I wanted a very specific type of man… or maybe I should say, I wanted a man who would thrive in a very specific type of relationship.
A man who would be my boy.
I may never have expected to have the chance for that, but even now that I was free, I had no interest in “exploring my sexuality.” I wasn’t “curious.” I had no desire to “experiment.” I knew what I wanted, and if I were ever to let myself go there—something I’d had no intention of doing, Marcus had been right about that—I’d want to find my boy and claim him for good. Care for him forever. Keep him and make him mine, in every possible way.
Thatwas how I was wired.
But this beautiful boy wasn’t here to be mine forever. He was only offering himself to me for tonight. And when he lookedat me, no matter how well he hid it behind an expression of sweet yearning, behind the appearance of shy confusion and the trappings of insecure vulnerability, I couldn’t let myself forget that all he was truly seeing was a job.
Or a… mark?
A john?
I’d never paid for sex, so I didn’t have the terminology down, but I did know how businesses were run. While the boy may havelookedyoung and innocent, I had no doubt that everything about him I’d already started to fall for was nothing more than practiced, strategic tricks of the trade.… the same way, I suspected, that the devastation still on his face, when I made the mistake of looking back at him, was.
And Jesus, even knowing that, the urge to go to him and comfort him, to let myself believe that he actually needed that from me, was almost overwhelming.
I scowled, then forced myself to turn my back on him again. It wasn’t real, and I rifled through the welcome basket to keep my hands busy, trying to convince myself of that. There were almost enough cheeses, chocolates, crackers, and meats to make up an entire meal.
I picked out some kind of chocolate-dipped artisan shortbread bullshit, smacking the package against my palm. I wasn’t even remotely interested... but maybe the boy was hungry? He was beautiful, but slender. Almost too slender. Did he eat enough? I should really?—
I froze. No. I really shouldn’t.
Fuckinghell.
I dropped the package of cookies like it was on fire and squeezed my eyes closed for a moment, shaking my head at the further evidence of my own foolishness. He wasn’t here to be fed, he was here to be fucked, and he certainly didn’t need me tocoddle, comfort, or take care of him. And whatIneeded was to stop torturing myself and just tell him to leave already.
While I had no problem with the ethics of legalized sex work?—
My train of thought suddenly screeched to a halt as I suddenly remembered my very first reaction to the boy. Well, my second reaction, if you wanted to split hairs. Right after the first one where he’d blinked those innocent-looking eyes up at me and a wave of pure lust and longing had slammed through me, stealing my breath, my sanity, and all good sense.
But…wasthe boy legal? Prostitution may have been, here in Nevada, but while I trusted my impulsive little brother’s good intentions, I had no faith whatsoever in his commitment to due diligence.
“How old are you?” I demanded, whirling back around to face the boy... and then crossing my arms over my chest and planting my feet, just to keep from going back to him.Reachingfor him the way I suddenly—almost desperately—needed to as he tried to hold my gaze.
Because his chin trembled.
Because those pale, ethereal eyes of his were growing suspiciously shiny again.
Because when he swallowed, clearly working up the courage to answer me, his Adam’s apple bobbed in the slim column of his throat, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
I wanted to taste it. Lick it. Suck it and soothe it. Mark him as mine, then wrap him up in my arms and make everything all better… and if I could do all that naked, with him on my lap and my cock buried in his?—
He cleared his throat, jolting me back to my senses again. “Um, I’m twenty?”
I clenched my jaw, feeling a muscle start to tick. Twenty? I didn’t buy it. Only if he’d never hit a growth spurt. The boy wastiny, and when I’d touched his face, his chin had been as smooth as silk. Did he evenhaveto shave?
“Try again,” I bit out, knowing he had to be lying and disgusted with myself for wanting so desperately to believe him anyway. Half my age would still be outrageously young, but at least not criminally so.
Which shouldn’t matter.Didn’tmatter. Because I was about to tell him to go.
A wave of color rose in his cheeks, and he sat up straighter, twisting his hands together in his lap. “How old do you want me to be?”
