Benji (The Wylde Street Boys #1)

4. Benji

FOUR

BENJI

I don’t know why it was so hard to lie to him.

Maybe because he’d been so generous, so kind. And that was a rarity in our world. It usually came with conditions and was a transactional exchange.

Men were usually only nice to me to get what they wanted from me.

But I wasn’t lying to him to deceive him. I was telling him the not-truth to protect him. The only person who knew my real name was Fitch.

Ky knew I had a not-so-nice history, but there wasn’t one person in our profession that didn’t. We all had issues: abuse, abandonment, desperation.

People rarely went into sex work willingly. It was because of limited options and no other choice.

Did I have other options? Any other choice?

Maybe.

The only choice I had was either escape, selling my body to keep my heart and soul free, or stay in my old life and have it cost me more of my soul than I was prepared to give.

And anyway, I found Fitch and Ky, and the three of us were as tight as brothers. We promised we’d keep each other safe, keep each other out of trouble and away from the dark path of drugs and bad shit.

We were our own family, and that was our life preserver. We didn’t need drugs when our escape from reality was the bond between us.

I understood why many of our other friends did though. To escape the pain and misery the only way they knew how. The only way they could.

It was a crying shame and evil of those who preyed upon them.

I had no time at all for those arseholes or anyone who would use the vulnerability of others for personal gain.

Like my father.

“Have you had enough to eat?” Nolan asked.

I’d zoned out, staring blankly at the TV and not seeing or hearing a word of the movie I’d picked.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” I said. “I haven’t eaten this much in ages.”

Admittedly, I’d only had breakfast and a sandwich for lunch, but still, two meals a day was more than enough these days. I didn’t want to spoil myself and have my stomach used to regular feeds because next week, I’d be back to my old life of maybe a cup of cheap ramen a day.

“How’s your back? Can I get you anything? ”

“I’m okay,” I replied. “My back’s feeling better already. But I might get up and walk around for a bit.”

He shot up from his seat and offered his hand. “Here, let me help you.”

I almost laughed, because I wasn’t that injured. “It’s fine, honestly.”

Having someone fuss over me felt really good, but it also felt wrong. I kept waiting for him to state the terms of his generosity, to tell me what he expected in return, but he didn’t. He was just... nice.

I got to my feet, slowly but unassisted and without wincing. “See?”

He was standing a little closer and had his hands out as if he wanted to touch me but wasn’t game. “Are you sure?”

I stretched my back a little. “Yep. You don’t need to fuss.”

I met his eyes then. Hazel, soft.

Kind.

Damn, he really was sexy. He had that intelligent and confident demeanour that I found incredibly attractive. There was no superiority, no conceit. It was a fine line to tread, but he did it well.

And his kindness. The biggest turn-on for me.

Nolan was ticking every box I had but I didn’t want to ruin his very generous offer by crossing lines. If I was going to be staying here a week, I needed to be on my very best behaviour.

“I’m just gonna do some laps of your hall, if that’s okay?” I asked, thinking some distance between us was for the best. “I think I need to move or I’ll seize right up.”

“Oh, sure, of course,” he said, moving out of my way. “And remember, the offer to use my bed still stands. If you need to lie flat, or whatever...” He did that cute grimace thing again. “You had some grazes on your back as well. If you need me to apply some antiseptic cream, I can. I saw them when you were in the bathroom, sorry. I didn’t mean to see, but you were shirtless, so...”

“Ah, it’s just a bit of gravel rash,” I said. I stretched my arm up to prove that it wasn’t anything to worry about. “Nothing too bad.”

He seemed somewhat convinced. “Okay.” He gestured to the messenger bag on the table. “I’m going to get some work done.”

“Will my walking up and down the hallway disturb you?”

He pulled out a laptop. “Not at all.”

I did a few laps while he typed away. I couldn’t see the screen from where I was, not that I’d have looked anyway. He was focused on his work, like I wasn’t even there, so I did a few more laps and then a few more.

It wasn’t far, down the short hall, across the living space to the front door and back again, but it did help with my back. My legs needed the stretch, and so did my mind.

I wasn’t used to sitting around and resting. The last two years had been a wild ride, every day was something new. Our apartment was small and there wasn’t anything in it to keep us occupied. No books, no television. So we never stayed inside. There was always something happening on the street. Oxford Street was a hub of activity, day or night.

The park, the cafés, the shops were our social meeting place. And we didn’t only work at night. Daytime trade was a thing. Businessmen on a lonely lunch break, delivery men at any time of day, regulars who needed a quick BJ after a meeting...

The thing was, and this was something not many people understood, I enjoyed my work.

For the most part anyway. There were always exceptions, of course. But I was a sexual person. I loved dick. And since I’d come out at eighteen and began living my truest life, I hadn’t gone two days without some kind of sex.

I enjoyed the social aspect of living on Oxford Street and working the men who cruised there. It wasn’t a perfect life, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t want to be a sex worker growing up, but this was the situation I’d found myself in, and I had to make the best of it.

Except now I’d found myself spending a week in a lavish apartment with a hot, older rich guy. Which was great and all, and I appreciated the safety of his place. It was exceptionally generous and kind of him.

But how was I supposed to spend a week here without any social interaction? Without sex?

After my twentieth lap of his apartment, after I’d sat back down and tried to watch some TV while he typed away, I decided more laps were in order. Nolan looked engrossed in whatever he was doing, but with each step, I was getting more bored and more antsy.

And, if I was being honest, it kinda bugged me that Nolan could ignore me walking back and forth. But he intrigued me, and in the end, it got the best of me.

Now, normally I avoided all personal questions, but one thing in particular begged to be asked.

“So, Nolan,” I began. I waited for him to look up from his laptop screen. “Any boyfriend or partner who might take issue with me being here?”

He clearly wasn’t expecting me to ask that. He blinked in surprise. “Ah, no.” He shook his head. “None. Work keeps me busy enough.”

I pulled out a seat at the end of the dining table. “Do you cruise Oxford Street often?”

He closed his laptop and smirked. “Not really, no. When the need arises.”

When he needed sex, that was.

“You go to that exclusive club? The 180 on Wylde?”

His eyes met mine, holding my gaze. “Yes.”

“I saw you go in last night,” I admitted.

He grinned, keeping eye contact. “I saw you too.”

“I thought you might have been interested before your friend led you inside.”

He barked out a laugh, his cheeks pinking a little. “I, uh, I don’t recall.”

I snorted. “Is that a lawyer defence line?”

He smirked as he ran his thumb across the lip of his laptop. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

That made me laugh. “So, big bad lawyer, huh?” I looked pointedly around his living room. “You must be good at it.”

He looked up at me then. “I am.”

Hm. Confident. I liked that. “So, what do you do for fun?”

He drew a deep breath in and sighed on the exhale. “Fun... I don’t really do anything for fun. I go to the gym, though that feels like a chore most days. I stopped playing cricket when I tore my hamstring.”

“Fair enough.” I nodded slowly. “Do you read? Go to the movies?” I shrugged. “Trying to think of what normal people do for fun. I’m not too familiar.”

“Normal people?”

“Yeah, people like you.”

“I’m not sure if normal is appropriate for anyone as it implies someone who is abnormal.”

I snorted out a laugh. “Sorry. Forgot I was dealing with a lawyer.”

He smiled. “What about you? What do you do for fun?”

“Well, we don’t have a sex worker’s cricket team, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He chuckled. “You should start one. No reason why you can’t.”

I counted off my fingers. “Registration fees, uniforms, sporting goods.”

He winced. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Can’t say cricket would be my first choice anyway, so it’s really fine.”

“Do you have any other hobbies?”

I thought about the things I used to do, that I missed from my old life. At first, I used to miss the luxury things like my game consoles and my car, but after a few years, it really was the simple things I missed the most. “I used to read when I was young. Loved King and Koontz but haven’t had the luxury in a while.”

“Do you like to read?” He seemed surprised by this. “I have plenty of books. All kinds. In my bedroom.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You seem very keen to lure me into your bedroom. First the offer of your bed, now your books...”

He rolled his eyes and stood up. “Come with me.” I stood up and he went to grab my elbow but stopped himself. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah, it’s feeling better already,” I said. “Walking helped.”

He nodded. “Good.” Then he gestured back to the hall. “Come this way.”

I followed him to the door on the left of the hall. He opened it and walked into what I could now see was a large bedroom. The bed itself was expertly made, the covers a dark grey, the wall behind it black, the other walls were grey, and black curtains hid what appeared to be a decent-sized window. There were black accents, black furnishings, and along the wall opposite the bed was a TV mounted on the wall and a low bookcase underneath it, the entire length of the wall.

“Wow,” I breathed. “Nice room.”

He cleared his throat. “Thanks. I like it.”

If I was a gazillionaire, I’d have my room exactly like this. As it was right now, I was lucky to have a mattress on the floor.

And the books and the huge TV were amazing, but the bed... Damn, it looked comfortable. Big and pillowy soft, and I was pretty sure if I ever slept in it, I’d never want to leave. “I might change my mind about taking your bed instead of the couch. How do you make yourself get up every morning?”

He chuckled. “Some days it’s not easy.” Then he swallowed. “The offer still stands, by the way. Your back really would do better if you slept in here rather than on the couch.”

My back wasn’t an issue, but I was considering saying yes anyway.

Then he waved at the bookcase. “And books. You can choose whichever you want. They’re mostly alphabetised. Fiction, non-fiction. Whatever you like. You’re here for a week, so read away.”

I looked back at the bed and imagined myself sitting up against the headboard, reading. Living it up like a king. Part of me didn’t want to overstep, but wow, part of me—that sounded a lot like Fitch—was telling me to live up every single thing I could while I had the chance.

Nolan laughed. “You want to try the bed, don’t you?”

“I do,” I whispered. “But I don’t want to make it weird.”

Chuckling, he gestured to the side closest to the window. “Go on, try it.”

Go on, do it now while you have the chance Fitch’s voice said in my head .

I went to the far side and sat down, sinking into the softness, the wealth of it.

I slowly laid down, my head on the pillow, and sank into the pillowy heaven...

“Oh my god,” I breathed.

Nolan chuckled as he walked over. “Nice?”

“Oh god, I’ve missed this,” I replied. I didn’t really mean to say that out loud. I’d done a pretty good job at convincing myself I missed none of my old life. I learned early on that it was a dark path to go down and one that only led to heartache, and I’d done a good job of avoiding it. But maybe remembering the books and the bookcases at my parents’ house earlier had opened a door I’d long thought closed.

But my old bed, in my parents’ house, had been big and soft like this. Soft fabrics that weren’t scratchy. A mattress built for back support and not just the cheapest one available.

This was expensive, as it had been in my parents’ house...

“You should rest in here,” Nolan said, walking over to the other side of the bed. For a second I thought he was about to lie down on his side, but he didn’t. “At least during the day. Sharing a bed at night could be a little weird.” He made a face and tossed the remote control onto the bed beside me. “Not weird because it’s you, exactly. I’m just not used to sharing a bed with anyone, and I don’t really know you, that’s all.”

Then he mumbled something to himself and shook his head. “Watch some TV if you like,” he said, nodding to the remote he’d thrown over. “Or grab a book. Whatever you want. I’ll be out at the table. We’ll have to think about dinner soon, I guess. I’m not sure what you feel like, so have a think and let me know...”

He cringed again, clearly awkward, and I hated that for him.

“I’m not used to it either,” I said as he got to the door. “Sharing a bed with anyone. For what it’s worth. I’ve never done that.”

I felt stupid for saying that.

He stared at me from the doorway. “You’ve never...”

I snorted. “I know what you’re thinking. Yes, I’ve done many things with men, but sleep next to one?” I shook my head. “Never.”

A smile pulled at the corner of his lips before he gave me a nod and disappeared down the hall.

I considered turning the TV on but decided against it. The silence was perfect for imagining I was floating on a cloud. My blinks were getting longer, the lure of sleep edging closer with every deep breath.

There was no outside noise, no traffic, no yelling.

I was safe here.

I was showered, in clean clothes, with a full belly, and on the most comfortable bed ever.

Sleep hit me like a truck.

I woke up to the smell of something delicious, something spicy and sweet, and my stomach growled. I followed the scent, seeing it was getting dark outside.

Nolan was stirring something on the stove.

“Smells good,” I said.

He startled. “Oh, hey. I hope you like curry.”

“Love it.” The truth was, I loved any food that wasn’t home-brand ramen. “I didn’t actually mean to fall asleep, but damn, that bed...”

Nolan chuckled. “You must have needed it.”

“Did you get your work done?”

“I did.” He nodded. “Well, as much as I could get done today.”

“Isn’t today Sunday?”

“It is.”

“You work on weekends too?”

“When it needs doing. I actually get more done at home than in the office. And it gives me a head start on Mondays.”

I looked around his kitchen. “Need me to do anything?”

“Uh... Can you set the table? Placemats are in the cabinet behind the table.”

“Sure.” I liked that he asked me to do something. It made me feel useful, and it only took opening a few drawers to find what I needed. I set the table with him at the closest end and me at his right. I didn’t want to sit opposite him, as far as body language was concerned. I wanted to have conversations with him, not interviews. I poured us a glass of water each and he soon put two bowls of rice and curry on the placemats .

“This smells so good,” I said, waiting for him to sit first. I slid into my seat, almost salivating at the rich aroma. “I haven’t had a proper home-cooked meal in so long.”

He smiled so easily. “Well, I hope you like it.” He nodded to the bowl. “Dig in. There’s plenty more too.”

I took a small mouthful and sighed when the flavours exploded on my tongue. I even did a little wiggle in my seat, and Nolan laughed. “Oh my god,” I said. “You made this?”

“I don’t cook often,” he said with a nod. “Kinda got used to it just being me and can’t be bothered. It’s easier to pick something up on the way home or get it delivered. Less mess too.”

I ate a few spoonfuls of rice, sauce, vegetables, and chicken, savouring every burst of flavour. I had to try and remember my manners so I didn’t shovel it in like a heathen.

“You don’t cook?” he asked between bites.

I shrugged. “Not really. Our kitchen is tiny. The stove top works but the oven doesn’t. I eat more ramen than could ever be good for me.”

“Your landlord should fix your oven,” he said. “You have rights as tenants.”

That made me chuckle. “You see the world through the lens of a lawyer. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” He laughed. “Never been called cute before.”

He was ridiculously handsome, a little grey at his temples, and he got those creases at his eyes when he laughed. It struck me hard that I found him so attractive.

And that this was the closest thing to a date I’d ever had.

“So is this what dating is like?” I asked, only then realising how that sounded when his eyes cut to mine. “No,” I amended quickly. “I know this isn’t a date but is this what it’s like? Dinner at some guy’s house, talking and laughing as you eat home-cooked food.”

He smiled as he chewed and swallowed. “I guess. Have you never been on a date before?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Kinda cut the niceties and formalities and skip straight to the happy ending, if you know what I mean.”

He nodded, still smiling. “Well, there’s something to be said about that method too.”

“What kind of thing?” I didn’t mean to sound so defensive.

“That it’s valid,” he replied smoothly. “Some people don’t have the time or means for the niceties and formalities, as you put it. They have needs to be met, like everyone, without the preamble of dating. So yes, it’s a valid means to an end.”

I thought about that and expected him to find sex work denigrating or beneath him, but he didn’t. At least I didn’t think so.

“Especially with the likes of Grindr these days,” he added. “There’s barely any need for preamble at all.”

“You use apps?”

He shrugged. “I have. But I don’t like the anonymity of it. Most guys I know love it for that very reason, but it feels impersonal to me. Which is, again, why most men I know love it.” He sighed and sipped his water. “I’d prefer to meet someone face to face and have a conversation before we get to the happy ending part.”

This surprised me. “You are not in the majority.”

Of course, he laughed. “Oh, believe me, I know. And I’ve done the nameless, faceless fucks before. In nightclubs, backrooms, glory holes.” He shrugged. “I’m past that scene now. I’d rather have dinner with someone and have actual conversations before we get to the fucking.”

I chuckled and put my hand to my heart. “Such a romantic.”

He laughed again before he ate some more, and I really loved that we could talk so freely about sex.

“Most clients I have need the anonymity, and apps can be traced and tracked,” I explained. “Those guys don’t want names or conversations, and that’s fine. Then I have some guys who just want companionship. Most times sex, but not always. They’re just lonely.”

He nodded slowly, frowning. “I’m glad you help them.”

“Some guys have hang-ups and weird kinks that their partners wouldn’t understand.”

He smirked at me. “I bet you have some stories.”

I laughed as I nodded. “Oh yeah.” I paused for a few seconds. “Not that I can divulge anything.”

He laughed at that. “Not that I’d expect you to.”

We ate in silence for a while. It wasn’t awkward at all. Quite the opposite, actually. I was comfortable with him, and it took me a few moments to figure out why.

“You don’t seem bothered by my line of work,” I said.

He met my gaze, clearly surprised. “Why would I be?”

I shrugged. “Most people are. Some are appalled. At best, some just pretend they don’t know. They certainly don’t talk and laugh about it.”

His eyebrows drew together. “I’m sorry if anyone made you feel lesser than you deserve. I don’t see it as a bad thing. Certainly not something to be appalled about.” He chewed on his bottom lip for a second. “In fact, I’m kind of fascinated by it. Not in a weird, fetishising way.”

I snorted.

“I just...” He sighed. “Some people can’t get past the stigma, and that’s on them, not on you. It’s no different to any other paid work, and at the end of the day, like most other jobs, it’s just what you do. It’s not who you are.”

I stared at him, stunned. It was rare that I was rendered speechless. I’d learned how to school my reactions, keeping emotions bottled away. I could go with the flow 99% of the time. No matter what a john said, I could act as if I’d expected nothing less.

But this genuinely surprised me.

Because being a rent boy was just what I did. It wasn’t what defined me. And to hear him say that, for him to believe that, made my chest all tight.

“What about you? Is being a lawyer what you do or who you are? ”

He smirked at me again. “I’m probably fifty-fifty. I uphold the law, and I’m a law-abiding citizen. But what I do is mostly just paperwork, making sure legal cases are watertight; i ’s dotted and t ’s crossed. That kind of thing. I’d like to think I’d be remembered for more than my job.”

Damn, if I wasn’t smiling at him. Not an act, not to get what I wanted, not to appease the paying customer.

“I like you,” I said. “You’re a good person.”

He seemed a little offended. “Oh, thanks.”

“Believe me when I say that’s a freaking rarity in my world. Being a good person, doing the right thing when no one’s watching is like winning the lotto.”

He chuckled quietly. “Well, I guess being called a good person is better than being called nice .”

“But you’re nice too.”

He put his hand to his heart, pretending to be hurt. “Ow. I’m wounded.”

I laughed. “And you’re sexy as fuck. And rich! And you’re very generous and kind, and an awesome cook. Believe me, you are like winning the lottery, and the fact you’re single is a crime.”

He grinned at me. “A crime, huh?”

“Yes! A crime. There should be a line of men at your door. The fact there isn’t makes me wonder... do you have some insane fetish I don’t know about?” I looked around his apartment. “There’s no locked door with a hazmat sign on it or a chest freezer full of body parts, right?”

He stared at me.

I stared right back. “Right? ”

Then he barked out a laugh. “No! I’m law-abiding, remember?” He chuckled. “Jesus. What kind of shit have you seen?”

I laughed with him but pretended to zip my mouth and throw away the key. “No can tell.”

He put his hands up. “Good. I don’t want to know. That way I can’t be incriminated.”

I sighed and collected our plates. “Let me clean up,” I said, but when I stood, my back twinged again.

Nolan was quick to grab my arm. “You’re not okay,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of these. You go back to bed. I’ll bring you in some more pills and the heat pack.”

He took the plates from me and set them back on the table. He was standing close enough for me to feel the warmth of his body, and with his hand still on my arm, he proceeded to lead me back to his bed.

I could have protested, but damn, if it didn’t feel good to be looked after...

By him. This kind and genuine person. It didn’t hurt that he was hot and that his apartment was like a five-star hotel, but he was gentle and caring.

So I let him lead me to his room, to his bed, and he fixed the bedding, sat me down, and once I’d got myself situated, he pulled the covers up.

God, I could get used to this.

I didn’t dare to get used to this.

I could enjoy it while I was here. It had been so freaking long since I’d had anyone tend to me, care for me. Sure, Fitch and Ky looked out for me, as I did for them, but they’d never tended to me .

Not like Nolan did.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Do you need anything else?”

“My phone,” I replied. “Sorry to be a pain.”

“It’s no bother,” he said with a smile before he disappeared out the door.

He came back with a glass of water, a sleeve of pills, and my phone. “It’s still only ibuprofen. I might duck down to the chemist and see if I can get something stronger over the counter. And some muscle rub.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I tried.

“It’s no problem.” Then he cocked his ear. “Oh, that’s the microwave. Hang on.” He was gone and came back a moment later with the heat pack. “Okay, try this.”

He helped me sit up, pressed the heat pack to my lower back, then gently laid me back down. It felt so good that I didn’t have the heart to tell him the pain wasn’t that bad.

I didn’t mean to play it up, but my god, he was so attentive.

So attractive.

He popped two pills and helped me sip the water to get them down. And all I could do was take in the line of his jaw, the column of his neck, the concern in his eyes, how his tongue swiped across his bottom lip.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

I laughed quietly. “Never better.”

“I mean your back.”

“It’s honestly not that bad. I just stood up wrong.”

He frowned at that. “Hm. I could call a doctor?— ”

“No,” I said, trying to sit up, but with his hand on my shoulder, he urged me to stay still.

“Okay, no doctor,” he relented. “But I’ll get some more pills and some heat rub. I won’t be long. Any requests?”

“If I said you didn’t need to do that, would you listen?”

He considered that for half a second. “Nope.”

I rolled my eyes but kinda laughed. “Fine.”

“I’ll be ten minutes.”

I lay there in the dark and quiet, absorbing this new feeling of being looked after. It was a warm and fuzzy sensation, with a good dose of longing and an edge of sadness and grief.

Longing to have this forever, sadness to know that I couldn’t, and grief for the last time I felt cared for was when I was a kid.

Before my mother left, and before my father was free to be the arsehole he is...

Nope. Don’t go down that path . . .

I picked up my phone and saw I had a few messages from Ky, asking how I was and if I needed anything. And from Fitch.

So, tasted his dick yet?

Then three minutes later . . .

Is that why you’re not replying?

Are you too busy getting railed right now? I bet he has a great cock

I snorted in the quiet room.

And another two minutes later . . .

Okay you’re gonna need to reply or I’m coming back to check on you

I thumbed out a quick reply.

Calm down. I’m fine. Not getting railed though and no, I haven’t tasted his dick yet. We were having dinner.

His text bubble appeared immediately.

Dinner? As in actual food and not his dick?

LOL yes. Then my back was sore so he put me in his bed where I am right now

I knew what he’d reply to that and I wasn’t disappointed.

You’re in his bed right now and you’re not being railed? WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH BENJI

LOL aren’t you supposed to be working?

I am

How’s business?

The usual. Ky’s busy with the two daddies

I smiled at my phone, knowing how much Ky liked those two men. They were an established older couple who liked a young thing to play with. They treated him well and paid him double. He was always happy when they texted him for a play date.

Good for him

Gotta go. Duty calls

Be safe. Text me when you get home

There was no answer forthcoming, and I knew he’d have pocketed his phone to give a prospective client his full attention.

I scrolled my socials for a bit, finding nothing of interest. Until I decided to search up the name Nolan O’Brien.

I found professional stuff, like LinkedIn and some corporate photos of him in expensive suits and million-dollar smiles, but there was nothing else.

I guessed as a lawyer he knew better than to plaster personal information online. If he had a Grindr profile, he didn’t use his real name, which wasn’t surprising. Very few did.

Like I could talk .

Then before I could forget, I sent Fitch another text.

Hey forgot to tell you I told Nolan my surname is Smith, Benji Smith, jsyk.

I didn’t wait for a reply. I put my phone on the bedside and decided to try the TV instead. I was still scrolling Netflix when I heard Nolan come home.

The front door opened and closed, then the sound of keys on the kitchen counter and quiet footsteps before he appeared at the door with a bag in his hand.

“Hey,” I said, putting the remote control down.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d still be awake.”

“Yeah, my little nap earlier fixed me right up. I’ll be awake for half the night now.”

He came in and walked to my side of the bed. “How’s your back?”

I resisted sighing at his over-concern and decided to allow myself this one luxury. “It’s really not so bad.”

Nolan sat on the edge of the mattress, near my hip, and he reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of Sprite. “Thought you might like one of these.”

Oh man.

“Hell yes,” I said, slowly sitting up.

Nolan took my arm and helped me. “You okay?”

I nodded, taking the bottle. “I haven’t had real Sprite in so long. If I get anything, it’s just the cheap home-brand stuff. Which is fine, but it’s not the real thing.” I cracked the lid and took a quick sip. “Ah, it’s spicy.”

He chuckled. “Spicy, huh?”

“Proper Sprite is spicy. Trust me. ”

Smiling, he took a tube from the bag. “I also got some of this,” he said. It was some heat rub for muscles. “And some more salve for the grazes on your back. If you lift your shirt, I can put it on for you.”

Oh.

“Ah, sure,” I said quietly. I tightened the lid on my Sprite and set it next to my phone, then pulled my shirt up to expose my back.

Nolan moved up and, with the gentlest touch, he applied the salve first. “It doesn’t look deep or anything,” he murmured, his voice soft and deep.

And I was all too aware of how close he was, how his touch was more of a caress, how his voice felt like a velvet brush over my bare skin.

Fitch’s words echoed in my mind.

Tasted his dick yet?

You better be getting railed . . .

My body was hyperaware of him now. His warmth, his size. God, how I liked a man with a decent build.

“How does that feel?” he whispered.

I turned my head in his direction, half looking over my shoulder, playing into the whole damsel-in-distress thing. If he wanted to care for me, and I wanted to revel in it, then why not?

“Much better,” I purred. “You have great hands.”

His hand stilled, his breath caught, and it was a full few seconds before he pulled his hand away. “Now for the heat rub,” he said, not whispering this time.

Did he not want to play this game?

He applied some cream to his hand, and I could smell the liniment immediately. It reminded me of locker rooms and half-naked footballers... and now my body was on board.

“Love that smell,” I murmured.

“Hmm,” he said. “Whereabouts on your back?”

I reached around to my lower back. “Just here.”

He began rubbing it in. Harder this time, really rubbing it in, and oh boy... yeah, I was not going to last a week here without having sex.

Some kind, any kind of sex.

He was working the heat rub into my lower back in firm circles, and my god it felt so good. All of it. His touch, his body close to mine, the scent of liniment. I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped me. “God, that feels good.”

I heard him swallow hard and his hand slowed to a stop. Then he cleared his throat and pulled my shirt back down. “There you go, all done,” he said, standing up.

Pretty sure he had a bulge in his pants, but he collected the bag, holding it in front of himself, and headed toward his bathroom. “Need to wash my hands,” he said as he disappeared.

Damn.

Yeah, okay, so that sure was something.

I lay back down, my back feeling much better, and my dick hard. And I was sure of one thing. This week of staying with Nolan, if he wasn’t going to rail me, was going to kill me. Either that or I had to do my best to convince him to fuck me.

He was paying me, after all.

He really should get his money’s worth.