He cringed. “There might be a list of available pop stars that’s been floated to me.”
I squealed and bounced excitedly on his lap. “Damn, I love being right!”
“Am I a sellout?” he asked earnestly.
“No!” I said immediately. “Sellout is a term used by jealous people. You’re talented and you deserve every last bit of success you’re about to have. Who cares if some of it is manufactured by publicity masterminds?”
He nodded thoughtfully.
I sunk my fingers into his thick hair softly, pulling his face up to look at me. “Do you feel like a sellout?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes? I don’t know. It’s all happened so fast and feels too easy. Like I didn’t write any of this music. I didn’t help to produce it. I sang exactly what they told me to sing exactly the way they said to sing it and now I wear what I’m told to wear and say the things I’m told to say in interviews.”
“I could see where that would feel weird. But do you think when things take off you’ll be able to dictate all of that for yourself? There’s power in success.”
He paused, looking thoughtful. “Maybe. But then am I still held by the cage of people’s expectations?”
“What kind of music would you make if they weren’t calling all the shots?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. I bounce around and haven’t ever settled on one style.”
“You’re still really young. You have plenty of time to figure it out and you can always change directions and reinvent yourself as you do. When you’re twenty-one, everything feels like it’ll last forever—good and bad—but the truth is that nothing does.”
He narrowed his eyes as he smiled. “That’s an awfully cynical view of the world.”
I narrowed mine back. “Only if you see things ending as a bad thing. Everything has a season. If you can embrace that change is always coming, it lets you weather the bad seasons and savor the good.”
“You’re pretty wise for a—” He cut himself off, awkwardly realizing how terrible what he was about to say would sound.
Laughter bubbled up inside of me at the look of horror on his face. “Pretty wise for a whore?”
He tilted his head, eyes grave. “I’d never call you that.”
I leaned forward and scraped my teeth along his earlobe. “What if I want you to?”
He groaned, capturing my mouth for a slow, sensual kiss. “You gonna earn it, dirty girl?”
Fuck, he somehow knew just which buttons to push.
I started to unbuckle his pants, but he stood up, picking me up with his hands under my ass and forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist to cling to him as he carried me to his room.
When we reached the doorway, he pushed me up against the wall instead of going inside. His expression grew thoughtful. “I don’t want you to have sex with me because you think you have to, because it’s your job.”
“Well, it’s not my job right now. I’m here as Maia, not as Helen.” Any doubts I had about crossing that boundary with him melted when his face lit up in response. This felt right. I trusted my instincts about him. We could have mind-blowing sex outside of our client relationship without things getting messy. I was a pro at separating my feelings from sex when I needed to.
I’d never felt this comfortable with someone. Because he led with his inexperience and was so comfortable with it, it made it feel safe to express things I was inexperienced with but curious about as well.
I took a chance and said, “But what if I like that part of it? What if it turns me on to feel like I’m not allowed to say no to you? That you can have whatever you want from me?”
“That so?” The desire in his gaze made my stomach flip with excitement.
I nodded.
I’d never been that blunt with a partner before, but the way he’d talked to me back at the party had been dirty and degrading and I loved it. I spent so much of my life catering to other people’s wants and desires, it was thrilling to finally be voicing mine.
“WhateverI want?”
I nodded again.
