With the Lights On

by Jackie Ashenden

  ‘You don’t get a say.’ I tried to stay cool, longing and desire simmering inside me, along with a building anger at him for making this so difficult. ‘A change in the terms of our contract requires my consent and I didn’t give it.’

  ‘Why not? What the fuck is so wrong with having one night with me?’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with it.’ I caught my breath as everything I felt for him constricted in my chest, gathering in a tight, heavy, aching ball. ‘And you may not care about my clients, but I do. They pay my bills. And I’ll never be able to give them what they need, what they damn well pay for, if all I’m thinking about is you.’

  Something leapt in his gaze, a kind of heat, and the air between us shivered.

  Then suddenly he strode towards me with loose, predatory grace, setting my heart racing.

  I should have moved. I should have walked straight out of the door.

  I shouldn’t have stood against the window, waiting for him to come to me, my heart in my mouth, part of me wanting this desperately. Wanting him to get close and to take the decision from me so I didn’t have to make it. So I didn’t have a choice. So I didn’t have to say goodbye.

  I didn’t want this to be the end. I didn’t want never to see him again. I didn’t want to be left wondering what his mouth tasted like or how it would feel to have him touch me, kiss me. How it would feel to have him inside me.

  Sex was a job for me; it had never been a pleasure. I’d never had a real partner, and all this time I’d never thought I’d wanted one.

  Until Trajan.

  He’d changed everything.

  Cold glass hit my spine and I realised I’d taken a step back against the window as he came for me, stopping in front of me bare inches away.

  The light of the city shone through the window at my back, illuminating the harsh angles of his face, his midnight-blue eyes burning into mine.

  He was so very tall, his shoulders wide, the cotton of his T-shirt stretching over the hard plane of his chest. And now he was so close I could see the sheer perfection of his body—not that I hadn’t noticed it in the past two months we’d been seeing each other; I just hadn’t seen it up this close.

  God, he was incredible.

  His familiar scent wrapped itself around me, fresh and clean, like pine trees and the sea. Like a place I desperately wanted to visit. There had been times over the past couple of months when all I’d wanted to do was to get close to him and breathe him in.

  ‘But I want you thinking about me, Honey.’ His deep voice had become deeper, gravelly almost, his blue gaze raking over my face. ‘Because I can’t fucking stop thinking about you.’

  A shudder rippled down my spine at the intensity in his voice and the heat in his eyes as he said it. Clients had wanted me before; that was nothing new. Yet it wasn’t really me they wanted, it was Honey: the beautiful escort who made all their fantasies come true. Which was fine, because that was what they paid me for. It was all about them, not me, after all.

  But the mask of Honey had slipped when I’d been with Trajan. Slowly and by degrees, I’d become more and more myself. More and more Maggie, who liked talking about the books she’d read, and strange facts she’d looked up on the Internet, and all about new scientific discoveries that she was interested in and following, and how they could make the world a better place.

  He’d listened to me, encouraged me, and had then joined in, his own thinking processes apparently as quirky and left-field as mine.

  ‘You shouldn’t,’ I said hoarsely, trying to ignore the warmth that confession had made unfurl in my chest.

  ‘I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help it. Thinking about you is all I’ve been able to do for the past two weeks.’

  I wanted desperately to touch him. To put my hand on the hard plane of his chest, feel his heat. Or brush my fingertips over the smooth, tanned skin of his cheekbones. Ease the desperation I could see in his eyes, ease it for us both.

  But it was impossible and I couldn’t allow it.

  ‘Then you need to stop.’ I tried to find Honey again, pull her on like armour, put some distance between us. ‘You’ll only make this difficult for the both of us, darling, and I—’

  ‘Don’t darling me,’ he interrupted forcefully. ‘And stop it with the Honey bullshit you give everyone else. Those are excuses and you know it. Give me the truth.’ The expression on his uncompromising features was fierce and there was something equally fierce burning in his eyes: his considerable force of will.

  I’d sensed that before in our meetings, in the arguments we’d had about various different topics. He liked to be right and he liked to argue to prove his point. And, although he’d always been playful with it, I’d felt the edge of that will of his.

  Now, though, it was as if a sword had been taken out of its scabbard and I could see the naked blade shining and sharp.

  He was ready to do battle whether I liked it or not.

  My heartbeat was an aching pressure in my chest. I liked the fierce way he wanted me; I liked it far too much. He was so beautiful, the kind of man I’d always fantasised about but who I knew would never want me—because I was stupid Maggie, and no one had ever wanted stupid Maggie. Not my grandmother, who’d been forced to take me in after my mother went to jail, and not the kids at school I’d never managed to make friends with. Weird Maggie, with her strange fixation on science, who hunted bugs and did messy experiments in the kitchen that her grandmother hated.

  I’d told him all of that. Had shared with him my most private self—the self I’d never shared with anyone, and he’d shared his with me. How he’d been a nerdy kid, obsessed with computers and computer games, who’d once spent an evening taking apart the new computer his father had bought him so he could see how it worked. And then figuring out how to put it together again before his father could find out.

  He deserved the truth. He deserved to know why I couldn’t do this with him. Because he was right—my job, the other clients, they were just excuses.

  I took a shaky breath. His dark blue eyes burned, straight black brows drawn together. His chiselled jaw was tense and his finely carved mouth hard.

  ‘You want the truth?’ I managed to force out. ‘Fine. Here’s the truth. I’m falling for you, Trajan. Which makes anything between us impossible, and most especially sex.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Trajan

  SHE WAS RIGHT against the glass, the pale oval of her face taking up the entirety of my vision. There was a desperate look in those beautiful dark-chocolate eyes, and I could hear the echo of it in her voice too, along with the soft note of anguish.

  I shouldn’t have got so close to her, but I was tired of the distance between us. Tired of the way she kept turning her head away so I couldn’t see her. I’d come close to get a better view, but now she was only inches away and I could feel the tantalising warmth of her body, smell the layered scent of orchids and sweet coconut, and... Yeah, getting this close was a mistake.

  I’d never been territorial and possessive over a woman before—I preferred to stay in control when it came to my relationships with people—so the intense need to have Honey all to myself should have been a warning.

  But I didn’t listen.

  And most especially not now. Not now she’d said she was falling for me.

  The need to touch her, to see her face, was almost overwhelming and I’d reached out and taken her chin between my fingers and thumb before I’d even realised what I was doing, tipping her head back so her face was fully in the light and I could see her clearly.

  She stiffened as I touched her; the sharp sound of her breath catching filled the space between us. And then, as I watched, a fiery blush spread over the fine-grained skin of her cheeks.

  It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

  Christ, I wanted her. Wanted to see that blush move all over her naked
body. Wanted to actually see her naked body, as even over the couple of months I’d spent with her I hadn’t been able to get an impression of her figure. Small and curvy, according to the description on the company’s website. But that wasn’t a substitute for the measurement I could make with my own hands if they traced her body. And I wanted that. I wanted it badly.

  Her skin felt soft and silky beneath my fingertips and there was a subtle tension in her jaw, as if she wanted to pull away but couldn’t bring herself to do it. As her pupils contracted in the light, I saw the threads of gold running through the darkness of her iris that grew brighter as I gripped her—sparks of heat.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Her voice had become huskier and I could hear a note of challenge in her tone. ‘Touching isn’t—’

  ‘Permitted?’ I finished for her. ‘It is now. I changed the contract, remember?’

  ‘But I haven’t signed it yet.’

  ‘I’m not holding you very tightly. You could get away easily enough if you wanted to.’

  She said nothing, just stared at me, her whole body vibrating with tension.

  I still didn’t let her go.

  ‘But you don’t want to,’ I went on softly. ‘Do you?’

  She swallowed and my gaze was drawn by the movement of her throat down to the hollow where her pulse beat frantically. My peripheral vision was nothing but shades of light and dark with bits of colour but, for the first time since my sight had begun to deteriorate six months earlier, I didn’t care. Because all I wanted to see was her.

  ‘Let me go, Trajan.’ There was a soft plea in the words this time. ‘Please.’

  I should have. But I didn’t.

  ‘No, I don’t think I will.’ I let my thumb stroke along the skin of her jawline and, Jesus, she felt good. Warm and silky and soft. A fucking delight. There had been brief moments of touch over the past couple of months—that initial handshake, the brush of her fingertips against mine when I’d handed her a glass of wine, the occasional slip-up when I misjudged where she’d positioned herself in relation to me and had brushed soft fabric, silky curls or warm skin.

  Those moments had had the power to stop me in my tracks, even though I hadn’t let it show. I was good at hiding my feelings, good at hiding everything, but right now I didn’t want to hide this. I wanted her to see how much I liked touching her, how badly I wanted her. What she did to me.

  She shivered at the stroke of my thumb but still didn’t pull away. Instead, her lashes lowered, hiding those beautiful dark eyes, gold glinting where mascara hadn’t covered the lashes properly. I could see that. I could see the freckles on her face beneath the light covering of her foundation. I could see the line of gold eye-shadow she’d put on her lids. I could see the glossy red slick of lipstick on her beautiful mouth.

  I could see so many things in the light. I wanted to see so many more.

  ‘Trajan...’ My name was a whisper on those plush red lips, sounding like a prayer; but whether to let her go or keep hold of her, I wasn’t sure.

  No, I did know.

  She wanted me to keep hold of her.

  ‘One night,’ I murmured, stroking her again. ‘Just one. What are you afraid of?

  The gold threads in her eyes glowed. ‘I... I told you.’

  ‘You’re falling for me. Yes, I heard that.’ I lifted my other hand, cupping her lovely face, feeling the warmth of her cheeks against my palm. Her body was so close. All it would take for me to close the gap was one small step and then I’d finally know what she felt like against me. Finally know the real shape of her. ‘Perhaps the feeling is mutual. Ever think of that?’

  It was true. I hadn’t wanted to fall for someone; that hadn’t been the point of hiring someone like her. But all the same every meeting we’d had, every time she’d stepped over my threshold and into my home, I’d felt something inside me relax. Felt a tightness in my chest ease. She was like the first breath of oxygen in a drowning person’s lungs. A cool breeze on a sweltering summer day. A bright light in my darkness.

  She was interesting, with a quick, incisive intelligence, and she liked the same science stuff I did. It had been a natural meeting of minds. And then she’d opened up to me, revealing personal things about herself, things I sensed she didn’t usually talk about with a client. That she’d trusted me with them made me feel good, made me remember what it was like just to enjoy someone’s company, not to have every waking minute consumed by work.

  Nothing real could ever happen between us, but maybe we could have real for a single night.

  ‘I can’t do it, Trajan.’ Her dark eyes met mine and this time she didn’t look away. ‘It’s hard enough having to end this now, let alone having to do it after sex. It’s easier this way.’

  I hated that look in her eyes, I hated her distress—mainly because I couldn’t solve it. ‘Honey, I can’t—’

  ‘I know,’ she interrupted quickly. ‘And I’m not asking for anything from you. I couldn’t give it to you even if you did. I can’t get involved with anyone, not right now. Not with my situation the way it is.’

  Of course she couldn’t. She was looking after the grandmother who’d taken her in after her mother had gone to jail. The grandmother who from the sounds of it hadn’t wanted her and hadn’t appreciated her. And still didn’t.

  ‘You know you don’t owe your grandmother anything,’ I couldn’t help saying. ‘She didn’t give you—’

  ‘She brought me up. She fed me and clothed me. I can’t leave her alone.’ Honey lifted her hands to my wrists, gripping them. ‘You shouldn’t argue with me about this anyway. Unless of course you’re offering me more.’

  It was a throwaway line, but I saw the expression in her eyes as she said it, the flickers of half-fearful hope. It made something tight in my chest get even tighter, because what could I say? That I wanted a relationship? That I wanted her in my life?

  She was lovely, and I enjoyed being with her, and, yes, I wanted to sleep with her. But a relationship was a bridge too far for me. I had my company to think about and I was still wrestling with the implications of my most recent vision loss; I had no room in my life for the extra demands a relationship would entail.

  So I said nothing, letting my silence speak for me.

  Abruptly, her fingers tightened, and she pulled my hands away. ‘I didn’t think so,’ she murmured, turning her head, her face disappearing into the shadowed blurriness of my peripheral vision.

  I’d hurt her and I knew it. I could hear it in the note of pain in her voice and the dull acceptance with which she’d said the words. And that tightness in my chest constricted even more.

  I should have let her go then. Should have stood back and waited for her to walk out through the door. But something in me refused; she was hurt and I wanted to give her something to make her feel better.

  She was already turning away from me, but before I could stop myself I’d reached out and taken her face between my palms, turning the pale oval of it back towards me once more.

  Her eyes widened slightly. ‘Trajan? What are you...?’

  I didn’t let her finish.

  I bent my head and covered her mouth with mine.

  She froze and I could feel the shock vibrate through her. But sensation had hit me and I was already drowning in it. The give and the heat of her soft lips. The warm scent of her body rising all around me. The catch of her breath and that subtle pulse of shock.

  I didn’t let go and she didn’t move, both of us caught in the intensity of the moment.

  Fuck, for so many weeks I’d been dreaming of what her mouth would feel like beneath mine. How I would taste it, find the shape of it, explore the hot, silken depths when she finally let me in. And she would let me in, because she was as hungry for this as I was.

  I touched my tongue to the plush curve of her bottom lip, tracing it gently, going slowly because it was th
e only way I could stay in control. My heartbeat accelerated, my cock hardened in response, and the need to shove her against the glass and hike her dress up and get into all that soft, wet heat was almost overwhelming.

  She made a helpless sound that nearly undid me, her lips getting softer under mine. I felt her fingers close around my wrists again but she didn’t pull them away this time, only held on, as if she needed something to ground her.

  My heartbeat thumped like a fucking drum in my ears, desire flooding through me, but I ignored the urgency of it, instead learning the shape of her mouth—the full curve of her bottom lip, the perfect cupid’s bow of her top lip—and relishing how they softened even further.

  Gently I teased the seam of her lips, pushing, nipping lightly, until she opened for me, letting me inside. As the heat of her mouth hit me, her nails dug into my wrists, a shudder coursing the length of her body.

  Fuck. She tasted so good. She tasted incredible.

  I could feel my control slipping and a surging hunger rising inside me. A hunger for light and warmth, for heat to melt the darkness. It was gathering around me and it was familiar, this feeling. There was danger associated with it and I shouldn’t be giving in to it.

  Yet I couldn’t stop.

  I tipped her head back, pushing my tongue deeper into her mouth, tasting the sweetness of her, because she really did taste sweet. Of melted honey, just like her name. God, so good. I couldn’t get enough.

  I kissed her deeper, harder, electric shocks of intense pleasure hitting me as she began to respond, her tongue against mine tentative at first, as if she didn’t quite know what to do—which couldn’t be right, since she must have kissed a lot of men before.

  Yet she was kissing me as though I was her first.

  I slid my hands into her hair, loving the brush of silky curls against my skin. And then I cradled the back of her head, feeling the delicate, vulnerable shape of her skull.

  She was so sweet, the heat of her body and the scent of her skin filling my senses. The taste of her mouth, just a hint of tartness, made me desperate. But desperation was always dangerous. It led to a loss of control, and that was something I could never allow myself.