He lifts a bag onto the bed and unzips it, his lips twitching into a grin. “Not especially.”
“Massages?”
As in, massage parlors?I’m trying to understand how this hunk of a man is single. Is it because he pays for his kicks?
“I endure them.”
“That sounds… fun?”
He drops some beach shorts on the bed and releases a short breath. “I’m ticklish.”
I smirk into my hand. “Oh, you shouldn’t have told me that.”
His gaze pans to me, dark. “You tickle me once, you don’t get paid.”
My mouth snaps shut and I instantly feel like the escort I am. I turn around and walk back into the suite, sitting heavily on the tiny couch.
One week,I remind myself.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
Still…
I stare at August still unpacking—boxers, crisp shirts, toiletries.
This is not going to be easy.
In fact… this is going to be quite possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Augusto
I’d forgotten how long it takes the average woman to get ready for dinner. Going by my watch this evening, it takes roughly one hour thirty minutes.
As I’m checking my phone yet again for messages, the door to the bathroom opens and my mouth turns to dust.
My throat scratches when I swallow and my vision narrows to nothing but the figure in the doorway.
Erin has dressed up. And Erin dressed up is distraction in fabric form.
She’s wearing a pale yellow dress, snugly fitted and falling to her knees. Her arms are bare and covered in a rainfall of freckles.
She’s done something with her makeup that makes the pale blue of her eyes piercing, yet expansive.
There are cheekbones I hadn’t noticed before, and with her hair in soft waves, her neck elongates from her nape to her collarbone.
I wet my bottom lip, chasing it with my teeth, then clear my throat and stand.
“You look… nice,” I manage.
“Thanks,” she replies in a tight voice. “So do you.”
I glance down at the tux I threw on. I’ve had it for years but it doesn’t get many outings so it still looks reasonably new.
“You ready for this?”
She flattens her shoulders. “I was born ready.”
Closing the door to our suite, I extend my arm for her to hold onto. She’s smaller than the women I’m used to spending time with, but her arm feels somehow like the right size.
