My blood pounds in my ears as he pulls out his phone.
Fuck. Is he going to call her right now?
Panic shudders up my spine, and the trembling begins to spread through my whole body. Yet again, I’ve let my mouth run the show, and I’m fucking this up.
Scott got home last night, and showed me the texts he’d received over the past few days. Whoever this Nick Monroe is, he’s a piece of work. The language he used in the messages was more violent and pointed than I’d ever read, and it chilled me to the bone to think of anyone like that being associated with my brother.
And now I’ve screwed up our only chance of getting the money he needs. Again.
I watch Gray Jones hit call, the screen changing as the nameSterling Houseappears at the top.
There’s no way Pippa will vouch for me; she’ll delight in telling him I’ve walked in here without permission, and I’ll be thrown out onto the sidewalk like the trash he thinks I am.
Desperate, with nowhere else to turn, I take off my jacket and toss it on the back of a chair. Then I raise my trembling hands to the hem of my dress and start pulling it up my body. As soon as I begin, I feel Jones’ eyes move to me, not to my face, but to my hands.
I can hear the muffled ringing coming through the phone. No one has picked up yet. I have ten seconds, maybe less.
I shed my dress completely and I’m now standing in my underwear in front of him, staring him down, like I have a right to be there.
Those gorgeous blue eyes are fixed on my tits. I know I look hot. I wore the most expensive lingerie set I own, having no clue what would be expected of me, when I set out on this crazy crusade, but I send up a prayer of thanks as he takes the phone away from his ear.
It’s so quiet I can hear his quickening breaths.
Is the door behind me ordinary glass or the translucent kind that you can’t see through? I can’t remember. Fuck.
I imagine the entire office and all the execs he just shooed out of the room staring in horror at the stiletto heels and red lace panties I’m wearing.
His eyes move over me very slowly, very deliberately, and it’s as good as a caress. I have to admit I’m not used to someone looking so cold and switched off while they assess my naked body. It’s… disconcerting.
“You think I haven’t seen a pretty woman or two in my time?” he asks. But he also puts away his phone and returns to his chair. The new position gives me a full view of his crotch, and a little zing of triumph passes through me as he crosses his legs.
“Tell that to the tripod you’re sporting,” I say, looking down at his obvious hard-on.
He’s completely unabashed. “Turn around.”
I do, without thinking, and that’s new, too. I don’t do what guys tell me; it’s the other way around. I clench my fists, turning on the spot, wondering what it is about this man that makes me so self-conscious.
Once I’m facing him again, his expression is a little less impassive, and his eyes have darkened in the soft lighting from the ceiling.
“I was right,” he says. It’s a phrase I can imagine coming out of his mouth often. “You do have a perfect ass.”
I stay still, waiting to see what he’ll do next. Other than storming in here and demanding to talk to him, I had no plan. I certainly didn’t expect to be in my underwear at this point, but that’s on me. Now, I’m at a bit of a loss.
It’s unnerving standing half naked with a man who looks as if this happens to him every other day. How many women must he have fucked in his time as a CEO? He’s hot, rich, and connected. He must get women falling over themselves for him.
The question rises in my head again.Why does a man like this need an escort?
“Seeing as you’re from Sterling House,” he says, managing to inject just the right amount of skepticism into his voice. “You can blow me to prove your credentials.”
Again, there’s a pull in my gut so strong I have to fight against it. It’s a feeling that I’ve never experienced before. I just want to do what he says without question.
What the hell?
“Not until I’m under contract,” I say sharply, wanting to get dressed again but worrying I’ll lose the ground I’ve covered if I do. “I’ve got a long list of clients waiting to fuck me,” I add confidently.
I expect him to say something like,‘I can well believe it,’or look me up and down and order me to blow him again. But instead, he stays utterly still, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes my throat tighten.
A pulse of heat throbs between my legs, and I swallow. I don’t remember ever being this confused and turned on at the same time.
