I’m thrown, and I can’t make an immediate answer pop out of my mouth. “Excuse me? What does that have to do with—”
“It’s a standard part of the medical questionnaire,” he says, spreading his hands.
“Fine. Yes, I am using birth control, not that it’s anyone’s business.” I fold my arms, trying to push back my annoyance. “Does that meet with your approval, Mr. Zoric?”
“As I said, it’s just a medical question, Ms. Moss. No judgement implied or intended.” He clears his throat again and moves his pen down the paper. I see he’s checking off boxes for each question. “Just a few more things, now. Do you have an arrest record?”
“No.”
“Any past or current narcotic addictions? History of mental illness?”
“No.”
He looks up then, searching my gaze, and my heart flips. Silence blossoms between us. That’s right, Luka.Seeme. But he goes back to his papers and I feel the loss like a snapped wire.
I need to get it together. Let this go. I mean, I thought I already had. I haven’t felt angry or resentful over our one-nighter in years. I put that bitch to bed. Seeing him has stirred up those emotions, though, and I’m not quite sure what to do with them.
“Can you tell me about your family? Mother, father? Siblings?”
Perfect. Nothing like talking about my parents to make me feel even worse. “I’m an only child. My parents live here in Chicago. We’re pretty close.”
“Do you drink alcohol, and how often?”
“Socially, mostly. I don’t know…maybe one or two drinks per week?”
“Perfect,” he murmurs, seeming to ponder something before he writes on the paper. This checklist seems suspiciously family-friendly. Maybe this gig is for someone big with a strict morality clause, like the Disney Channel or American Girl. I can play the girl next door if I have to. I don’t care if it’s not my preferred type of gig; I just want to go national.
“How do you feel about living in the city?”
“Born and raised in Chicago. I currently reside in LA. That should be answer enough.”
He smiles. “Indeed. Do you rent or own your place in LA?”
“Rent, but the lease is up next month, and as I said, I have an apartment here for a while.”
“Great. And how do you feel about pets?”
There’s something about the way he says, “pets” that signals I’d better say that I don’t have any. I don’t, but I’m not opposed to having one in the future. Luka’s mouth pulls into a line and I go with the cues.
“No pets. No desire for any.”
He sets down his pen, then rises, his long, hard body stretching out before me, his shirt going tight over his sculpted torso. My pussy aches, just like that. He might as well have snapped his fingers and told me to come because I could. I seriously could, just from looking at him and remembering in vivid detail how loud he made me scream—
“Ms. Moss? Can you stand please?”
My cheeks heat as I realize he’d probably already asked that, and I’d been totally lost in the memory of fucking him. I get up and set my bag on the chair. Then Luka comes around the desk to me and holds out his hand. I have a flash of déjà vu, taking his hand and letting him lead me. My palm slides against his and his fingers curl around my hand, but I don’t grip him back. He can hold on to me, but I’m going to hold on to myself.
He takes me to the center of the room and positions me, then moves to stand beside me. Even though our arms are barely touching, I can feel his body heat and the firmness of his biceps, and being this close to him makes goosebumps break out all over my body. Damn him.
“What is this?” I ask.
“Just seeing how you fit next to me,” he answers breezily.
Weird. But okay.
“And now if you’ll just turn toward me,” he says.
I do as he asks so we’re now face to face. I find myself looking up at him because I can’t not. Those sexy eyes slanted a touch at the corners, his lips parted just so. I know how he looks when he’s fucking, when he’s close to orgasm, when he comes. A shiver runs through me.
