Like deep, uncharted waters.
“What?” his voice is barely a breath, a whisper.
Whatever I was going to say dies between us as I bring my mouth to his. Jacob startles, but only for a second. I settle my free hand on his neck, feeling his racing pulse beneath my palmand my cock twitches knowing it’s because of me. The rain falls, echoing around us as his body relaxes in my hold like Jell-o.
I squeeze his neck just the slightest, and a soft moan escapes his mouth, causing me to grin.
“I was right,” I whisper, pulling away with a satisfied smirk.
“About what?” he asks, licking his lips. His gaze glistens with interest.
My hand on his neck slides back into his golden hair and I grip the locks, pulling on the edges just enough to force him to look at me.
“You’re worth every penny.”
Something shifts in his gaze, something I can’t quite place. The rain slows and he steps back.
“We should get going.”
I nod, my hand still settled on his back. “You’re right. We need to get you to the ball before you turn into a pumpkin.”
Jacob grins, and all the strange tension disappears.
Chapter Ten
Jacob
It’s just a job, Jake. It’s no different than any other date. Aaron’s no different than any other client!
I do my best to tell myself this, because these are the facts.
I’ve kissed a lot of guys and girls over the course of my career at Foxy’s and well enough before that, too. But I have never been kissed by anyone, the way Aaron kissed me.
Those kisses you see in the movies? The ones where the woman’s foot pops or their limbs become loose noodles? The kisses you read about in those smutty romance novels?
This kiss was better than all of those combined. Because Aaron didn’t kiss me like a client, or even a gentleman. He kissed me like he fuckingowned me.
And I swear it was like a lightning bulb moment—to my brain and my fucking cock.
Even now as I sit here, listening to the sounds ofHot Bloodedby Foreigner—the station that Aaron picked which seems to play nothing but 80s and 90s music—I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.
I’ve always been good at compartmentalizing. At separating my job from my personal life. It’s always been easy. My dates hire me, I do my research, craft my role, and deliver their perfect date, their perfect kiss, and give them exactly what they paid for.
So why does Aaron’s comment about me being worth every penny make me feel likethis?
Why does the thought of his kiss even now at this moment make me harder than it should?
I wish I could blame it on the alcohol, or even the nerves, but neither are to blame. I only had one glass of wine at dinner, because while I’m not opposed to drinking while on dates, I don’t want to be drunk when I meet Aaron’s parents. I do have to play the part of a doting, loving boyfriend, after all, and with what little information I do have about his parents—I need to make sure I come off as a responsible, sound adult.
Which shouldn’t bethathard, all things considered.
I only realize when the car stops that we haven’t spoken since we left the restaurant. He looks at me with wary eyes.
“You okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, of course.”
No. I’m not okay. I think I’m having a professional crisis over here. I’ve never felt this attracted to a client before.
