by Gina Conkle
“Maybe another night.” I stood up fast. “I’ll get Mrs. Smith—”
“Hold on.” His hand shot out.
Shoulders hunching, I waited for his touch. We stood in limbo, watching each other before his hand dropped to his side. The room crackled with nervous energy and a low, awkward strum of arousal sticking to my skin like humidity.
We didn’t say a word, but a man’s deep voice seeped through thin walls followed by a high-pitched, feminine giggle. Beyond the closed door, Mrs. Smith’s accented voice mixed with two men until their conversation ended with a door being shut. Everyone was having a good time tonight except Surfer Man. Standing closer to him, the red light painted his blue shirt a shade of purple where male nipples poked the cotton. I looked higher. He’d shaved for this, his jaw’s shiny smooth skin giving him away. My lashes drooped and I peeked at his fly. He hung to the left. I could tell by the faded spot on his jeans where his package bulged.
Glancing up, his dark gaze touched mine, sparking currents throughout my body. The corner of his mouth twitched at catching me eyeballing his crotch.
My cheeks burned but I stood taller. “I don’t know what Mrs. Smith told you but when she said ‘fresh face’ that was code for I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never done this before. Any of it. Not sex for hire. And certainly not BDSM. Much as I want to bolt, I need the money. So can we get this over with?”
Another dry chuckle. “You know how to get a man going.”
I glared at him through my bangs and hugged myself tighter. Music pulsed from the room next door, but I couldn’t say what the song was. Did they need a sound track to get going? The frazzled side of me surrendered to how little I knew about sex. Despite standing bravely, I was small and adrift on an unknown sea.
Surfer Man stepped within touching distance, his blue eyes on the verge of grey, lit with a strange mixture of hard shell and tender patience. A faint line traced the left side of his mouth like contempt came easy.
“First rule,” he said evenly. “You only talk when spoken to.”
“Then what am I supposed to call you?”
The question startled us both. I was throwing out the no names rule and for good reason. Something dawned on me. With the closed door, it was just the two of us. This square room was my island. Control could go either way. Surfer Man’s mouth opened, but an adrenaline rush took over and my hip cocked sideways. In the world of fight or flight, my body tensed with its version of fight.
“Oh, let me guess. You’re going to say Call me master or some crap like that. I work at a bookstore. I’ve read those please spank me Mr. Billionaire books.”
I liked a few of them. Reading the books was one thing. Living them was another.
One side of his mouth curved up. “Maybe you should tell me how you really feel.”
I exhaled slowly, blowing bangs off my forehead. No sense in telling him what I really thought. Talk about a mood killer. No man wanted to hear me say this place is for losers who can’t find a girl. Yet, this guy was no loser.
“Real billionaires don’t look like you do in those jeans of yours.”
He chuckled, his blue eyes flaring wider. “I’m no billionaire.”
Oh, but you are one hot man. Thankfully my filter worked and I kept that to myself.
“You know what it is? It’s the whole BDSM scene thing. Sex isn’t a scene. It’s sex. Two people being honest skin to skin.”
Sinews under his forearms flexed while music cranked louder in the next room. His hard shell scrutiny narrowed, and I cringed. Sneering at my customer’s preferences wasn’t a smart idea. How he got his rocks off was his business.
“Honest sex.” He let the words settle in his mouth. Surfer Man shook his head and made for his gym bag.
“What? Are you leaving?” My voice notched higher. I didn’t want him tying me up, but I didn’t want him to leave.
“This wasn’t a good idea.”
Scowling at me, he stood under the bulb, the red light pouring over him. How was it a nice looking man in his thirties paid a hefty price to tie a woman up yet he was the one getting all contorted about it? I was pretty sure he could get the average beach bunny to shed her bikini and play sex games for a night. Unless his tastes ran too dark.
I eyed the bag at his feet. Dust lined a few creases. “Maybe we could talk instead.”
He laughed harshly. “You’re naked. I paid for sex with a pretty woman.
Not conversation.”
“Want me to cover myself with the sheet?”
“No,” he said, his face screwing up like I wasn’t playing with a full deck. “I don’t want you to cover yourself.”
Feet planted wide, the bulge in his jeans was gone. The lost reaction bugged me. He didn’t find me attractive anymore? To add to the strangeness, my reversal irked me. I should be glad. I could run down the hall, grab my clothes and purse, and run out the door and never come back.
Red-tinged light cast shadows over his features. He set both hands on his hips, his raw voice reaching out to me. “Why do you want me to stay?”
Book List
Midnight Meetings series
(Georgian romance)
* * *
Meet the Earl at Midnight, Book 1
The Lady Meets Her Match, Book 2
The Lord Meets His Lady, Book 3
Meet a Rogue at Midnight, Book 4 (a novella)
Meet My Love at Midnight, book 5 (a short story)
* * *
Look for three more full length Midnight Meetings series books in 2018 and 2019.
The Scoundrel Meets His Match, Book 6
When a Marquis Meets a Woman, Book 7
Meet the Gentleman at Midnight, Book 8
* * *
Norse series
(Viking romance)
* * *
Norse Jewel, Book 1
To Find a Viking Treasure, Book 2
To Steal a Viking Bride, Book 2.5 (a free short story)
* * *
Forgotten Sons series
(Viking romance)
* * *
Kept by the Viking, Book 1 (coming May 2018)
Her Viking Warrior, Book 2 (coming Sept. 2018)
Her Viking Warrior, Book 3 (coming Jan. 2019)
