She hesitated, her eyes darting back and forth between him and the car. “I’m actually not far from here. I’ll walk.”
Ben knew the look he gave her conveyed exactly how insane he thought that idea was. “It’s almost midnight. There’s no way I can let you walk home.”
Visibly bristling at his comment, she crossed her arms. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I’m fine.”
“I’m not doubting your ability to take care of yourself. But I’m not going to ditch you in a parking lot. My parents raised me better than that.”
Ryan bit her lower lip again and made no move toward the vehicle.
“I’m confused why this is such a big deal. It’s an Uber ride.” Ben wasn’t trying to be a smart-ass, which—judging from how her shoulders rose and her face hardened—was exactly how she’d taken it. He legitimately didn’t understand her resistance.
“I’m not comfortable with you knowing where I live,” she replied, an edge of steel to her voice he hadn’t heard before.
“You’re going to meet my family and pretend to be my girlfriend. If you were worried about me being a creep, you maybe shouldn’t have agreed to all of that.”
He hadn’t thought it was possible, but she managed to glare at him even harder. “I have every right to keep some parts of my life so myself. You’re buying my time, not my right to privacy.”
As Ben took in her words, he realized he couldn’t really argue with that. It wasn’t unreasonable for her to want to keep some things from him. And where she lived was probably best kept confidential in her line of work. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I imagine it’s best to keep your address secret because of what you do. But . . . can you at least take the car and I’ll call myself another one? Or let me call you a cab? Driving away with you still here makes me feel like a dickhead, and I’ll worry for the rest of the night about whether you made it home.”
Ryan seemed to mull it over for a second before she dropped her arms and released some of the tightness in her body. “Yeah. I can do that. And a cab is fine. I’m a simple girl,” she said with a smirk.
Smiling, Ben said, “Thank you.”
A slow smile crept over her own face. “You’re welcome.”
Ben opened his phone and arranged for another car to come for her. They both remained quiet while they waited until he remembered something. “I totally forgot. I need your number.”
“Oh, crap. Yeah, that would’ve made meeting up pretty difficult.” She rattled off her number to him, and he shot her a text so that she’d have his in return.
The cab arrived a few minutes later, and Ben opened the door for her. This time, she walked right over to it but stopped before climbing in. “I guess I’ll talk to you?” she asked.
“Definitely. We can figure out when would work for you to sign the contract and talk about a schedule for getting together.”
“Sounds good,” she said, but she didn’t make a move to get in the car.
Realization dawned on him. “Oh, I should give you . . . something. For your time.” He spoke softly so the driver wouldn’t overhear as he dug into his pocket to fish out his wallet.
Ryan put a hand out to stop him. “No, no, I don’t want that. The meal and calling the cab were enough.”
“Are you sure?” Ben wasn’t sure what the protocol was for a situation like this. Did he insist she take it? Should he add it onto his tab? This was already too complicated for him.
“Positive,” she answered.
Ben looked at her for a second to try to get a read on whether she meant what she said, and he didn’t see anything to prove otherwise. “Okay then.” He stuffed his wallet back in his pants and waited for her to get in the car, but she didn’t budge. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I think . . .” She blew out a breath. “I think we should kiss.”
“What?” Ten minutes prior she’d been telling him she didn’t trust him to know where she lived. Now she wanted to kiss him? Maybe this chick was crazier than she seemed.
“I thought that maybe we should see if we had any chemistry before we got into things like contracts. We can fake everything else, but if there’s no chemistry, we’ll never be believable.”
Ben had to admit that made a little sense. “Uh . . . okay . . . I guess. I mean, as long as you want to.”
Ryan gave him an inscrutable look.
Ben let out a deep sigh. “I don’t want it to be something you feel like you have to do. Like I said, I’m not paying you for anything . . . sexual. But if you want to, then I’m up for it.” Ben felt like a world-class moron, but couldn’t stop the words from coming. “I want it too. In case that wasn’t clear. You’re definitely—”
Ryan’s lips quirked up in a smile as she put a finger over his mouth. “Would you kiss me already?”
He moved around the door so that he was standing directly in front of her. Then he brought his hand up to cup her cheek as he lowered his mouth to hers. Applying the lightest bit of pressure, their lips brushed together sweetly.
It took mere moments for the kiss to intensify. Her lips shifted beneath his own, so he let his tongue dart out to taste her. She released a small moan that prompted him to bite down on her bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. Then their tongues were dueling, tangling together and creating a delicious friction that made Ben’s cock stir in his pants. Her fingers rubbed over his short hair as he devoured her.
He wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, but eventually he heard a throat clear. Oh yeah. The driver. Ben pulled back slowly, taking in Ryan’s closed eyes and slick lips.
A second later, her eyes blinked open. She subtly wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. “Yeah, I don’t think chemistry will be a problem.”
“No, I think we have that covered.”
She offered him a shy smile before ducking her head and getting into the car.
“Have a good night, Ryan,” he said.
“You too, Ben.”
And with that, he shut the door before walking around to the driver’s window and giving him a twenty-dollar bill. If Ryan lived close enough to walk, he figured that amount would cover it. He waited until it was out of sight before turning his back and walking to where his car awaited him.
“All set, sir?” the driver asked when Ben got settled in the back seat.
“Yeah,” he replied. “I seem to be.”
Chapter Six
Ryan trudged up to the top of the five-floor walk-up and knocked on Camille’s door. She heard a “One second,” and leaned against the doorframe to wait. One second in Camille time could be a literal second or five minutes. There was really no telling which it would be. Ryan felt bad for making Camille answer it in the first place, but the key to the apartment came branded with a “Duplication Prohibited,” probably because the landlord was too cheap to change the locks after tenants left. Ryan knew a few places that would copy it anyway, but Camille had never offered her a key, and Ryan felt weird asking, even though she’d unfortunately spent a good bit of time on multiple occasions waiting in the hall for Camille to come home.
Ryan glanced around the rundown hallway. The decrepit building was in an even more decrepit neighborhood. It seemed like half the block was abandoned or inhabited by squatters. Used syringes ended up nestled in the deep cracks in the sidewalks, and police sirens were its version of white noise. When Ben had offered to have the car take her home, Ryan had tried to hide her panic. Because there was no way she could let a rich hockey player know she stayed here, let alone the truth: She couldn’t even afford a place like this. The only thing that separated her from the homeless drifters was that she was good at making friends.
The door swung open a minute later, and Camille stood back to let Ryan enter. “You’re home early,” she said over her shoulder as she went back to the art project she had spread out all over the floor.
After dropping her bag on the couch, Ryan walked into the kitchen. “Quit a job and found a new one a
ll in the same night,” she said before opening the small refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water.
“How does something like that happen exactly?”
“You tell off a customer for touching you and then let a guy think you’re an escort,” Ryan replied as she unscrewed the cap and took a long drink. She returned to the living room in time to see Camille drop a sponge covered in red paint onto her canvas and drag her eyes up to meet Ryan’s.
“I’m not even sure what to ask you to explain first.”
Ryan shrugged. “We could go with neither. Because one I don’t want to talk about, and the other one I’m legally bound not to talk about.” Ryan knew that wasn’t completely true since she hadn’t signed the NDA yet and Ben had said she could let a friend in on some of the details.
“That makes me even more worried, which I didn’t think was possible. So thanks for that.”
To her credit, Camille really did look worried. Not that Ryan wouldn’t have expected her to be, but it was still always a shock when someone showed concern for her well-being, let alone when it happened twice in one night. Camille had been nice enough to let Ryan crash with her when Ryan had found herself without a place to go, but their friendship was mostly superficial—evolving mainly around a shared love of The Walking Dead and sleeping until noon.
Ryan gave her a brief—and vague—rundown of the evening’s events. She hadn’t revealed Ben’s name, as promised, but she couldn’t let Camille worry about her needlessly. She also left out the part about her horny self being unable to resist blurting out that she thought she and Ben should kiss. She’d had to cover it up with some bullshit about testing chemistry. “It’s cool. The guy I’m working for seems nice and on the up-and-up. No touching required, which is more than I can say for the hovel Paul’s running. So no need to worry.”
“What’s the guy’s name?” Camille asked.
“I can’t say, actually.”
Camille sighed. “That’s a really bad sign.”
Ryan plopped down on the couch, which doubled as her bed. “It’s not for a creepy reason. He’s . . . well known. So I promised to keep it a secret.”
“Will it also be a secret when he lures you into his underground sex dungeon and shackles you to a Saint Andrew’s Cross?”
“Probably,” Ryan deadpanned. She laughed at Camille’s wide-eyed stare. “Stop worrying. I’ve managed to keep myself alive this long. I can keep the streak going. Plus, he’s fine with me telling someone where I’m staying, so if I go missing, you’ll know where to tell the cops to look for my body. You have quite an imagination by the way. Been watching a lot of Fifty Shades?”
Camille picked up her sponge and went back to dabbing her canvas. “I used to date someone who was into BDSM.”
Ryan observed her friend for a few seconds. “You lead a very interesting life.”
Snorting, Camille said, “I’m not the one who decided to become an escort on a whim.”
“True that.” Ryan watched Camille paint—if what she was doing could be called that—for a few minutes before she stretched and stood. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“’Kay” was all she got in reply.
Ryan went over to the hall closet she used to store her stuff and grabbed her pajamas then headed into the bathroom. She turned on the spray and let the water heat up for a minute before climbing in and allowing the water to sluice the day from her skin. As she scrubbed herself with her loofah, she imagined she was also scrubbing her mind free of Daisy’s. There wasn’t an ounce of regret at how that whole debacle had gone down. Especially since it had led her to meeting Ben.
Ben.
Now there was a happy thought. Ryan conjured a mental image of him: his light-brown skin punctuated by perfect dimples when he gave her one of his full smiles. His tall, broad frame that was no doubt loaded with muscle that was for use more than show. She couldn’t help but think about how strong he must be.
A warm feeling pooled low in her abdomen and made her clit throb with arousal as she pictured him naked, hovering over her in bed, using his powerful thighs to thrust into her as she writhed beneath him. Ryan let her hand slide down her body and into the crease between her legs. She massaged her clit, rubbing small circles over it as she imagined the V of Ben’s abs against her while he fucked her.
Ryan’s other hand toyed with one of her nipples, which she pretended was Ben’s tongue flicking the hardened nub. Her breath was coming in pants as she let her finger glide over her clit more quickly. Her mental Ben had a huge cock that filled her perfectly, the mushroom tip hitting her spot in a way that would make her scream in ecstasy. His callused, rough hands would roam all over her body, leaving her skin feeling as though it was on fire. Then he would lean down and bite her earlobe, pulling on it as he told her to come for him.
She could almost hear his deep, sexy voice as he said the words, and it was all she needed to make herself shatter, her knees quaking as they fought not to buckle. Her shoulders hunched in as her core spasmed with her release. Leaning her forehead against the tiled wall, she fought to get her breathing under control.
The fantasy had been vivid, the orgasm intense. Ryan wasn’t sure of the last time she’d been so turned on. It left her feeling slightly uneasy because as much as she wanted Ben—and she definitely wanted him—sex wasn’t supposed to be part of the equation. Which could possibly be good. Because if the real thing was anything like her imagination, she may find herself addicted to Ben. Ryan finished rinsing herself and shut off the water, thinking there were worse things to be addicted to.
* * *
“I can’t fucking believe you bailed on us,” Gabe yelled through the phone as soon as the call connected.
Ben knew he’d receive a greeting like that, which is why he’d waited until the next morning to call his friend. “Hello to you too.”
“We didn’t even get to meet the escort you hired,” Gabe continued as if Ben hadn’t spoken. “We could’ve vetted her for you.”
“Vetted? Did you join the FBI since we last talked?”
“Fuck you, dude. Don’t talk shit just because my vocabulary is better than yours.”
“I don’t need you to ‘vet’ anyone. I’m perfectly capable of choosing my own escort.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Gabe muttered. “What’s her name?”
“Ryan.”
There was an uncharacteristic silence on the other line before Gabe found his voice. “Uh, Ben, man, I know you wanted to get your family to leave you alone, but I’m not sure hiring a male escort was the way to go.”
Ben couldn’t hold in the cackle that burst out of him. “You asshole. Ryan can be a girl’s name too.”
“Yeah, it can be. But just to clarify, is it in this case?”
“Yes,” Ben said, impatience evident in his tone.
“Oh. Okay, cool. I mean, it would’ve been cool the other way too. It’s just not . . . you know . . . you never—”
“For Christ’s sake, please stop talking. I’m not coming out to you.”
“I know that. But if you were, I’m saying it would be okay.”
Ben rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Gabe, I’m not gay. I hired a female escort named Ryan. Can we change the subject now?”
“No. What the hell else would we talk about besides your new escort?”
“I meant . . . never mind. What do you want to know about her?”
“Everything.”
Ben snorted and then proceeded to recap his evening with Ryan.
“So she was cool about the NDA?” Gabe asked. “Because you definitely can’t let word get out about this.”
“You didn’t seem so concerned about that when you were attempting to kidnap me and drag me to a strip club.”
“What can I say? I’m impulsive.”
“No shit,” Ben retorted. “But yeah, she was cool about it. Said she was used to having to keep things confidential.”
“You should do a background check,” Gabe
said.
“Why?”
“She could be a murderer. Or a bank robber. Or a counterfeiter.” Gabe’s voice rose in excitement with each new crime he listed.
“Well, I’m not a bank or the Franklin Mint, so I think I’m safe.”
“What if she’s a murderer?” Gabe asked.
“She’s barely over five feet tall. I’m not worried.”
“A switchblade knows no height restrictions.”
Ben felt his eyes crinkle. “Did that even make sense in your head?”
“Yup.”
“Okay then.”
“So she’s cool?” Gabe said.
“Yeah. She reminds me a lot of you, actually.”
“Because she’s a dude?”
Ben laughed. “Fuck off.”
“When are you hanging out with her again?” Gabe asked.
“I said I’d call her today about meeting up to sign the NDA. But I need to call my lawyer first to have him write one up.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay, but when are you hanging out again so you can get to know each other better?”
Ben’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know.”
“Dude, you gotta get to know her. This isn’t like my buddy who brought the girl to one party. You’re going to be with this . . Ryan for days, and your mom will be sniffing around her like a bloodhound. If she doesn’t think the two of you are serious, it’ll be even worse than if you’d gone alone.”
“Shit.” Ben knew that was the truth. If he went to the wedding alone, his mom would be on his ass about finding a nice girl to settle down with. But if he showed up with someone who seemed like a stranger, she’d add on a few jabs about him having commitment issues and whatever other shit she picked up from the gaggle of gossip gremlins she called friends. “You’re right.”
“I usually am.”
“You’re also a dick.”
“Speaking of that . . . you’re a hundred percent sure Ryan doesn’t have one, right?”
The Proposition Page 4
