“Right, of course.” I ran my palm up his arm, the warmth of his skin raising goose bumps on mine. “I won’t ask for details, don’t worry.”
That seemed to relax him a little more, and the smile was closer to genuine. “Good. Because you won’t get any. And neither will anyone else.”
“Fine by me.” I experimentally leaned in, and Luca lifted his chin and met me halfway. I’d known this man for all of five minutes, and I was already hooked on the way he kissed. Would he think it was stupid if I suggested we just lie here and make out with our clothes on? I mean, I was all for getting naked and fucking until we couldn’t move, but this was good too. Especially when he was so into it.
Of course he’s into it. He’s getting paid.
The thought was like a splash of cold water. Oh. Right. Luca wasn’t some guy I’d met in a club or on an app. I mean, I had met him on an app, but it wasn’t like he’d swiped right. He’d tapped accept payment or whatever came through on his end. And he didn’t exactly charge bargain basement rates, either, so he was, shall we say, motivated.
My heart sank as my enthusiasm waned. Fuck. I should’ve known this was a bad idea.
Luca drew back and met my eyes, his forehead creasing. “Something wrong?”
Just the fact that you’d never look at me like that if my credit card had declined.
I shook my head despite the heat rushing into my cheeks. “No. I’m, uh… I’m good.”
Luca lifted my chin and made me look in his eyes again. “Do you want to do this?”
How was the answer to such a simple question so damn complicated? Because, yes, I did want to do this. I wanted to do everything the two of us could do between the sheets. I wanted to be touched and kissed and fucked.
But I also wanted to be wanted.
Was this the double-edged sword of finding someone as discreet as an escort? That he’d never tell a soul we’d slept together, but the tradeoff was that all I’d ever be to him was a cardholder? Because this was a job for him.
So which is worse—being alone or being someone else’s work?
Sighing, I broke eye contact again. Lying back on the pillow, hating how grateful I was for some space between us, I wiped a hand over my face. “I’m sorry.”
“What’s wrong?” Luca sounded concerned, but I tried not to read into it. That was probably part of the experience. Customer service and all that. God, it sounded dirtier the more I thought about it.
Lowering my hand, I turned to him. Customer service or not, the concern in his eyes seemed genuine. But how the hell would I know if it was genuine or if he was just that good at this part of his job?
I swallowed. “I don’t know if this is my thing. Paying for… Um…”
“Paying for sex and company?” He didn’t sound offended. Or insulted.
Nodding, I whispered, “Yeah. A buddy of mine does this, and he says it’s amazing, but I…” I shook my head. “I don’t think it’s for me.”
Luca studied me. “Do you want me to go?”
I closed my eyes and exhaled. No, I didn’t want him to go. But I also didn’t want to be something on his to-do list. A task to mark off so he’d get paid.
“If you don’t want to do this,” he said softly, “I can go. The customer is always right.”
I knew that was meant to reassure me that I was driving. That it was up to me to decide if this moved forward or if it stopped. But goddamn if it didn’t land right on that raw nerve that suddenly decided that paying for sex and company made me feel like shit.
Meeting his eyes again, I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Luca nodded, drawing back and putting some more space between us. “It’s all right. Some guys don’t realize they’re not into it until they try it.” Was that disappointment in his voice? I couldn’t tell. As he sat up and started straightening his shirt, he added, “There’s an option on the app to cancel the payment. Just—”
“No.” I shook my head and sat up too, still keeping some space between us. “I still want to pay you.”
His hands stopped mid-button, and he looked at me. “I’ve only been here for like ten minutes. I’ve barely done anything. I couldn’t ask you to pay that much for—”
“I’d rather pay you.” I couldn’t hold his gaze, so I shifted my attention to fixing my own clothes. “I’m the one who bailed, not you.”
“But I didn’t do—”
“Please. I’d rather pay you in full.”
Luca was still and silent for a moment. Then he continued fixing his shirt. “Thank you.”
Neither of us said anything more. Once we were both presentable again, we left the bedroom, and in silence, we walked to my front door.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “For the record, you didn’t do a thing wrong. I guess I’m just not wired for this.”
Nodding, he offered a faint but sincere-looking smile. “It’s all right. You’re not alone there.”
But I’ll be alone here once you’re gone.
Is this a mistake? What am I doing?
I was seriously tempted to suggest we forget this and go back into my bedroom, but the lingering ball of lead in the pit of my stomach said we’d be here again before long. He didn’t need to get whiplash from my indecisiveness.
So, without a word, I opened the door. We exchanged quiet good nights, and then he was gone. I leaned against the door, eyes closed, and listened until I heard the ding of the elevator.
“Goddammit,” I muttered into my empty condo, and I swore my voice echoed off the high ceilings. When Luca had walked in earlier, everything had been perfect, but now that he was gone, this eight-hundred-foot place was suddenly huge and cavernous. Too much elbow room. Too much space. Too much air for no one but me to breathe.
Come back.
Except no. No, I didn’t want him to come back. I couldn’t do what I’d paid him to do with me, and what was I supposed to do now?
God. What the fuck was wrong with me? It wasn’t like I wanted a relationship. The thought of juggling a relationship and hockey made my head hurt—how my teammates managed it was a mystery to me. Falling in love someday, maybe even getting married, sounded great, but it wasn’t in the cards right now.
I wasn’t in a good place for a relationship because of hockey.
I couldn’t relax into a hookup because of discretion.
Now I couldn’t pay for sex because obligatory sex was apparently worse than no sex at all.
And I was still alone.
Chapter 4
Luca
I was numb as I got into my car. A little dazed. A little sick.
This was hardly the first time a client had bailed after I’d arrived. Some got cold feet. Some were too embarrassed. On two occasions, a spouse had unexpectedly come home (sooo awkward). It was usually kind of uncomfortable between the time the client called it off and when the door shut behind me, and after that, I’d just shake it off and go on with my life. Sometimes it left me feeling dirty, but most of the time, it was just part of the job. No big deal.
Tonight, the discomfort followed me down to the car, out of the parking garage, and into the steadily thinning traffic. I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly it was that was bothering me. I didn’t even know if it was just one thing.