Which is unfortunate, because…there’s something about Barry that makes me feel warm. Discombobulated. I’ve had a lot of honest conversations with my sisters about what it’s like to sleep with men. Their verdict? Usually, it sucks. But every once in a while, a man comes through that causes their body to respond. They don’t have to fake their pleasure.
It’s real.
Apparently, that authentic physical reaction includes prickled skin, sensitive nipples, a strange but not unpleasant tummy ache.
As I walk to the parking lot of the diner with Barry, I am checking all those boxes.
Uh oh.
What a terrible time to have my very first sexual attraction to a man. When he’s made it clear he is not interest in my too-young ass.
There’s also the fact that he’s gigantic. DoIhave a kink? Is it giants?
He’s at least six foot six. Laden with muscle. Thick, though, as well. Like he works out on the regular but never hesitates to eat what he wants. Why is that so hot?
As a woman, I never feel safe in parking lots at night, but I’m almost giddy with safety right now, because Barry saunters beside me, carrying my bag at his side, scanning the parking lot for threats. There’s an air about him that proclaims he can and will handle anything. This man really thinks himself unattractive? Sure, the scars are a little jarring, but only because they look like they hurt. Badly. But they frame the most intensely beautiful blue eye I’ve ever seen.
He glances down at me now withbothof those piercing blue eyes, his attention like a caress down the slope of my neck.
“We’ll check into the resort and change, then we’ll head to the welcome party,” he says, tipping his head toward the highway. “The resort is half an hour away.”
“Yes, I mapped it on my phone.” I purse my lips at him. “I’m a full-service fake girlfriend.”
“No, you’re not,” he says, staunchly.
“You don’t have to keep reminding me we’re not going to have sex, dude. I got the message.”
“Just making sure.”
I have to jog to catch up with his long strides.
When he notices that I’ve been forced to run, he slows down immediately.
He’s a man who isn’t accustomed to walking with someone. Anyone.
That observation makes my throat hurt. “How old would I have to be for you to consider taking me to bed, though?”
“Why does it matter? It won’t change anything.”
“I’m just curious.”
“I don’t know,” he mutters. “Twenty-five.”
“What?” I shove him, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. “That’s bananas.”
“That’sappropriate.”
I blow a raspberry. “Appropriate? Men call Sweet Fleet on a daily basis asking for the youngest escort we have on the payroll.”
“I’ll consider myself proud not to be one of them.” His step slows as something seems to occur to him. “You said you’d never escorted before, right? You only answer the phones.”
“That’s right.”
“Why did you agree to meet me?”
“I liked you right away. You have an honest voice.” That startles him a little, and he looks away, almost like my admission made him shy. “But also, you said you wouldn’t require sex and…being that I’m a virgin…you seemed like a safe first job. Probably mylastjob, too, if I’m honest. My sisters think I have a stomach bug. They’d kill me if they knew I was with a client.” I’m rambling because I just blurted that I’m a virgin and I really didn’t mean to. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Nineteen years oldanda virgin.” He’s tight lipped as he hustles me toward the passenger side of his monster-sized truck, but when his hand touches the small of my back, I swear he splays his fingers as wide as they’ll go, feeling the base of my spine, just for a breath of time. “This is a terrible idea,” he grouses, gripping my waist and boosting me onto the seat, his heat and the coarseness of his hands scoring me through my shirt.
