That settled him a tad. It was then he realized I hadn’t yet given him an answer. He had no idea what my decision was.
“You’re willing to walk away from PFA? And never look back, if it comes to that? I’m assuming you haven’t talked to Gage yet. What if he says you’re on your own, and if you leave you are done and can’t come back? Have you thought about that?”
He sat in front of me, threading his hand in mine.
“I’m prepared for whatever happens when I talk to my father and Gage. This is what I’ve always wanted, and I’m not walking away from this chance.” He pulled me up to my knees, our bodies colliding. “I would love you to be with me. But if it’s not what you want, I understand, and we’ll make it work.”
He bent down, took my face in his hands, and kissed me. He started pulling away, but I kept his face in place, my hands around his head, prolonging the kiss.
“I’m coming with you,” I said against his lips.
“Yeah?” he whispered.
“Yeah.”
And he kissed me again.
We fell into each other’s arms, and his body relaxed against mine. His tense muscles fell slack onto the bed in relief.
“You’ll be able to write when you’re on the road with me,” he said.
I nodded in agreement as our plan started to fall into place. There were still so many logistics to manage: my job, his job, my apartment, talking to his father, talking to Gage.
Suddenly, none of that scared me.
“So, this book. Is it a naughty book? Like, can we practice any of the scenes?” he asked as he lifted my shirt and pawed at my breast playfully.
“Well, if you consider a memoir about me leaving home to become an escort a naughty book, then maybe.”
His hand froze.
“You’re writing about your life?”
I nodded.
His hand came out from under my shirt and stroked my cheek. “I think that’s amazing, Mare. Truly amazing. And I can’t wait to read it.”
Another gentle kiss.
“But in the meantime, I think we should practice for when you do write a spicy book, dontcha think?” he asked.
I laughed as his hand went back up under my shirt, cupping my breast.
“How would you write about what I’m doing to you right now?”
No words came to mind as he flicked and pinched my nipple until it hardened in his grasp. He pulled my shirt over my head, and his mouth took the place of his hand. He rolled his tongue around the hard bud, teasing it with his teeth.
“Well?” he asked.
“You’ve got me speechless,” I told him.
He chuckled. “A writer needs their words. I guess I’ll have to keep working to give you the best experience possible for your research.”
His mouth returned to my breast as his hand slid down my side to the band of the sweatpants I wore. He was about to push them down, when my hand went over his.
But I had a disconnect with what we were doing.
My head couldn’t stop thinking about something, and I needed to address it.
