Boyfriend for Hire: A Stand-Alone Contemporary Romance (Escort Files Book 1)

by Nina Strych

  Even just thinking of it made the water feel like it had changed in substance as it fell on her from the shower head. Each drop hit her skin individually and with impact. And that was just the memory of a kiss.

  Holy moly, she thought. This could be exactly what Marion had been telling her all along. She had needed to get away.

  Then again, she didn’t feel this almost chemical need to be close to any other man in the place, only Mike. And being near him was coming perilously close to torture.

  There was no more time to dally about, so she hopped out of the shower and slapped on some lavender lotion to cool her nerves and calm her down. This was the night for the black dress and she wanted to wear it well. She hesitated over the mixed up pile of cotton versus lace in her drawer. What to do?

  If she wore the cotton, particularly something ridiculous like the dogs with umbrellas or those emblazoned with the days of the week, she’d be less likely to want him to see it. It might be safer. On the other hand, if she did lose her self-control around him, the lace would look better. Of course, it would also itch. Lace and Amy did not have a great relationship.

  Umbrella dogs it was.

  She giggled as she slipped the black dress on and zipped up the side. It fit wonderfully and it was one of the few pieces she felt genuinely sexy wearing. It was designed for a women shaped like a woman, not a stick with skin. She turned in front of the mirror and tilted her head. Yes, this was just right.

  Then she saw her feet. The bruises along the sides had gone dark and the only heels she’d brought had straps that crossed that portion of her foot without mercy. “Dang it,” she muttered and tossed the small pile of shoes jumbled at the bottom of the closet.

  “This is going to be embarrassing,” she said to herself, selecting the only possible alternative for tonight.

  She blow-dried her hair quickly and then slapped on some mascara. Before she could debate adding more makeup to her face, Mike knocked on the door. She knew it was him and had to smile at her reflection that she already recognized his two short raps.

  “Ready?” he said as she opened the door, then he whistled when he caught sight of her. “Woah, I thought this wasn’t a suit and tie sort of place. You look amazing.”

  He was dressed in a dressier version of an aloha shirt and dove gray pants that set off the color of his shirt perfectly. It also just happened to make his tan look deep and warm. It didn’t hurt his biceps either, making his strength and form a part of the outfit. It was perfection.

  “You look just right,” she said and waved him in. “We’re going to need to hustle. Let me grab my shoes.”

  He stood near the doorway, looking out at the water while she stuffed the necessities into her small bag and then shoved her feet into her shoes. She sighed and then hurried back into the living area. “All ready.”

  Mike turned and took her in, a one-sided smile creating that devastating dimple when he saw her shoes. “I love it,” he said.

  She looked down at the hot pink flip-flops, the large flower attached to the top so big it couldn’t be missed. She grimaced at the ridiculous shoes and said, “I can’t wear my heels.”

  He shook his head and stepped toward her, one hand reaching out to twine a loose curl that fell in front of her shoulder. His voice was soft and he said, “I mean it. It’s perfect.”

  Stepping back from the electric touch, Amy blew out a breath to steady herself and said, “Then let’s do this.”

  Nineteen

  The prices! Mike couldn’t help but scan the menu, seeking the least ridiculous costing items. Amy didn’t seem concerned at all, but this restaurant was entirely out of his league and he felt conspicuous and out of place.

  It was beautiful, everything gleaming under subdued light, the tablecloths almost glowing they were so white. Even the dark wooden chairs were meant to embrace a customer and make them feel special. Frankly, Mike was better at diners where they asked how he liked his eggs.

  Amy sighed and then looked at him over her menu, the stiff paper touching her chin. She leaned forward and whispered, “Is it bad that I want all of it? I’m starving and it all sounds delicious.”

  Glancing back down at the menu, Mike’s stomach made a discreet rumble of agreement and he made a face when she grinned. She heard that.

  “I can’t decide,” he said.

  Looking around at the other diners, Amy leaned forward more and said, “Let’s just get something different from each other, so we can do another deal. A bite for a bite.”

  Her eyebrows rose like she was suggesting they feel each other up under the table or something equally scandalous. The thought of that made his groin tighten sharply and he coughed, covering the rise in his blood pressure by taking a sip of water.

  “Sounds good,” he squeaked out and she tilted her head at him.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, fine.” He swallowed hard and thought about baseball for a moment. “Right. All good now. What strikes your fancy?”

  She peered at the menu again, the end of her tongue running along the inside of her lips as if already tasting something delectable. Mike had to look away from that. He knew exactly what that mouth tasted like and he wanted a lot more of it.

  “I’m torn between the pork tenderloin and the lemongrass shrimp.”

  He looked at the prices for each and then had to suppress a wince. “Well, I’ll get one and you get the other. How about that?”

  She wiggled a little in her seat, though discreetly, and then wagged her eyebrows at him. “And a tuna tartare starter?”

  “Be still my heart,” he said, smiling at her delight.

  She picked up the wine list and then made a face. “Okay, I only know two things about wine and one of those is that you pick different colors for different meats. We’re all over the map here. What do we choose?”

  “Let them suggest a few, but don’t decide on the most expensive one. Or we can skip wine altogether.”

  She snorted and said, “No way. I already talked to the concierge. If we get hammered they’ll come get us.”

  Mike shook his head and put his menu down. It was best not to look at it anymore. The waiter caught the motion and made his way over.

  Just as Mike thought, the waiter had three suggestions for wine, each one more costly than the last. It was the sign of a true professional. Give the client three price ranges without ever talking about money. Amy chose the middle one and when they each raised their glasses for that first sip, Mike realized the waiter was far better at choosing wine than he’d thought.

  Amy sighed and licked her lips. “Oh my god, this is good. I’m going to have to be careful.”

  Mike placed his glass down carefully and nodded. “Too good. I could drink a bucket of this.”

  “And then we’d really need to be picked up!”

  They were seated next to each other rather than across from each other, the waiter clearly knowing his business when it came to couples. Their tartare came and they did their best not to gobble, but it was so good he really wanted to lick the plate.

  By the time the food arrived, he was ready to jump up and raid the kitchen. Amy’s nose lifted as others were served, so he figured she felt the same. When their plates came, Amy bumped his leg with her knee and whispered, “We should try to remember to use utensils. If I grab it with my hands, stop me.”

  He laughed quietly and then nodded for the waiter to fill their glasses. That was it for the wine and that was probably a good thing. It was already going to his head with his stomach so empty.

  The food was delicious, unbelievable even, and when he’d lifted his fork to Amy’s mouth, he had to restrain himself from covering those lips in a kiss when she took her bite. She did it sensuously, the way someone who loved food should do it. He wanted to see that mouth in his bed, under him, swollen from kisses and passion.

  Under the table and the white cloth that was long enough to hide his actions, he reached over and slid his hand over her thigh. The soft
fabric of her dress slipped over her skin like water. She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth and sat up a little straighter, her eyes widening and then darting around the room as if checking to see if anyone could see what he was doing.

  He smiled and took up his wine glass, like he was pausing his meal like anyone else would. Under the table, he halted his advance for a few seconds, giving her the opportunity to stop him if she chose. She didn’t. Her fork was still raised and she wasn’t moving an inch.

  The curve of her inner thigh beckoned and pointed the way, and the heat rose. Slipping his hand under the dress, he smoothed the soft skin and traveled up toward the secret places of her that he most wanted to explore. Her secrets, her private world always hidden under clothes. The back of his fingers brushed the fabric of her panties. Cotton. He almost moaned at the warmth that came through, the soft pressure of her against the cloth.

  She was frozen, so he set down his glass, using that free hand to lower her fork and hand to the table. He slid her wine glass toward her fingers and murmured, “You look thirsty.”

  She gulped loudly and then took a swallow of her wine, the politeness of sips forgotten. She licked the liquid from her lips and then glanced down at her plate. Mike felt his pants tightening and hoped there wouldn’t be a need to suddenly get up. If so, he would be giving some folks a show for sure.

  Wondering how far she might let him go, he gently pressed against her thigh to widen her legs and give him access. She let him do it and he rotated his hand to cup her sex. She sucked in a sharp breath and he watched as her eyes softened, the blue of her irises turning a darker shade. Her lips parted a little and her face suffused with color as he gently pressed the tender flesh underneath. Would she stop him now?

  He could feel the dividing line between the lips of her outer labia, full and soft and inviting him to part them to find the treasures beneath. With this as his guide, he used the pad of his thumb to travel along that line until he knew he’d found the spot underneath, the hard nubbin of flesh pressing forward and eager for him.

  Softly, he traced a line over it and then back again, wanting to see the pleasure on her face grow and blossom. His cock was ready to burst out of his pants, the pressure was so great. He’d never wanted anyone like this in his life. He kept at it, the pressure steady, the strokes just fast enough to keep her nerves aflame.

  It didn’t take long. Suddenly Amy slammed her hands down on his and stopped the motion of his thumb while she froze in place. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip. A tiny squeak escaped her and she blew a long hard breath out of her mouth. Pushing his hand away from her body, she jerked a little as if she couldn’t bear the sensation of his touch anymore.

  After a moment, she opened her eyes again and looked at him. She whispered, “Holy fuck.”

  Withdrawing his hand, Mike picked up his fork and tried to figure out how he was going to walk out of this place when dinner finally ended. Cutting a piece of tenderloin, he popped it into his mouth and chewed. Amy was simply staring at him with her face all rosy, her eyes wide and her lips parted.

  He winked and said, “I sure do love a tasty meal.”

  After a beat, she laughed.

  Twenty

  “Pick up, pick up,” Amy whispered as she paced the restaurant bathroom, the phone pressed to her ear like she was trying to jam it through her skin.

  “Jesus, you have the worst timing!” Marion said as she answered the phone, completely out of breath.

  “Why? What are you doing?” Amy asked.

  “Jason, duh. What’s going on? You wouldn’t call this late for no reason. Did you screw him?”

  Amy had been absolutely full of her news, too full to consider that it was late and Marion actually had a boyfriend and a life. “I’m sorry. This can wait.”

  Marion paused, the silence on the line full. “Something’s up. What is it? Did you fuck him?”

  Amy made a noise, not a yes, but also not a no.

  “You did!”

  “Not exactly,” she said.

  “What does that mean? I mean, it’s like being pregnant. You either are or you aren’t. Fucking is sort of the same thing.”

  “Do you have to use the word pregnant in the same sentence? Really?”

  “You’re avoiding the answer,” Marion said, her voice getting a little low.

  Amy let out a sigh, then moved away from the door to keep the noise down. “Okay, listen and don’t say a word.”

  “Got it,” Marion said, already breaking in.

  Amy rolled her eyes, then said, “We went to a nice restaurant and it was great, then he sort of reached under the table and…well…”

  “Can I talk yet?”

  “Yeah, go ahead and make fun.”

  “Just need to get some deets here. So, he rubbed you off under the table? Is that what you’re saying? Also, did you actually go off and have the big C.”

  “C? Oh, you mean the big O. Here’s the big news. I did.”

  Marion’s squeal was so loud Amy had to yank the phone away from her ear and press it to her stomach to stifle the noise. When it ended, she picked it back up and said, “You don’t have to get that excited.”

  “Oh yes, I do. The impossible clit has been sent over the dark edge of the world! That’s a big thing!”

  Now Amy was embarrassed, but also still worried. “That’s got to be bad,” she said.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because it happened then and there. I mean, I’ve been in bed more times than I can count with the lights off and a man going after it like it’s a gold medal and nothing happens. I’m eating shrimp in a restaurant and a random guy does it in about a minute flat with my clothes on? What does that mean?”

  “That he’s good at it?”

  Amy shook her head, pacing again. She wasn’t explaining it right. “Listen, maybe there’s something wrong with me. I mean, what if I have to be in public or with my clothes on or eating seafood or something? Is that possible?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “How can you be sure?” Amy asked.

  “You don’t just pop up with a random and super specific sexual need like that. There are no genes for sex in restaurants! It was just the way it happened. Be glad. So, are you going to fuck him now?”

  “Jesus, you’re persistent.”

  “No, but you’ve just broken the barrier and the few times it’s happened before were flukes. Go see if it’s a fluke. I’d bet serious money it isn’t. Serious money. Not that I have it, but I’d sure bet your fortune on it,” Marion said, the laugh in her words barely hidden.

  “And what about the money? Did he do it because he was paid?”

  Marion sighed and said, “You’ve got to get off of that. If he was going to do it for the money, then he wouldn’t have done it like that. Go…I will hear nothing further from you until you have been soundly bedded!” That last bit was said with a very haughty voice and accent that made Amy giggle.

  She lowered her voice, facing the door again, and said, “I’m in the restaurant bathroom. We’re about to leave.”

  “So this is decision time, then?” Marion asked, her voice a little more compassionate. “Do you want to? I mean that. Do you actually want to have sex with him? Right now?”

  Amy didn’t even have to think about the answer. “More than anything. I can’t even describe what being near him is like.”

  “Oooo, that sounds delicious. Anyway, that’s your answer. For as long as you want this, then do it. If you stop wanting it, stop him right then. Don’t just go along. Got it?”

  Amy looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, turning to the side and then making a face as she ran her hand along her stomach profile. She had a dinner pooch, a good meal and some good wine making her stomach happy…and a little poochy.

  “You think? Really?” she asked.

  “Really.”

  *****

  “And here’s you,” Mike said, standing in the sand and holding his shoes, leaving her plenty
of space to get past him.

  Amy took the two steps up and then stopped, her forehead almost touching the door. Could she do this? Would she sound sleazy?

  Turning, she said, “Would you like to come in?”

  In the moonlight, she saw Mike smile and had to press her lips closed before she could say “never mind” and run through the door. But instead of immediately going for the goal, Mike came to the bottom of the steps and touched her arm.

  “You don’t have to invite me in. It wasn’t a trade.”

  She could tell he was sincere, absolutely sincere. Though being near him left her in a near-constant state of excitement, at this moment she could also feel that he wasn’t trying to influence her.

  Amy looked at him, his eyes dark and gleaming in the silvery light, and tried to decide for herself. Was she doing this as an equitable trade? You did me, so I’ll do you?

  In the past, sex really had been a lot like that for her. The whole notion of “you’re my boyfriend and for that, you get this” was the hidden subtext for many an encounter.

  How could she be sure there wasn’t some of that deep inside? The fact that looking at him made her feel all melty was a big clue, but was that all that was going on? She stepped back into the sand and looked up at him.

  “Let me see,” she said, then reached up to slide her hand around his neck and bring his lips down to meet hers. Without the saltwater and the fins, touching his lips was like touching soft fire. She kissed his upper lip, then the bottom one and ran her tongue along the soft flesh. He hesitated for a moment, letting her have her way, then Amy vaguely heard his shoes drop into the sand.

  His arms encircled her, strong and sure, one hand curling around to her shoulder blade and pressing her breasts to his hard chest, the other reaching for her bottom to press that to his lower regions. She felt him grow between them, a rock-hard length that couldn’t be ignored. That delightful press of him against her made her suck in a hard breath while his tongue tasted her mouth.

  He teased her with his lips and tongue, Amy’s mind conjuring images of all the places she wanted to feel his mouth touch her body. The memory of that mind-altering pleasure at the dinner table forced her thighs to squeeze together, a little pulse of muscle inside her giving her a not-so-gentle reminder of what the pleasure would feel like again.