Chapter 2 #2
“Fine,” I say with a resigned sigh, but I’m far from resigned to this.
I’m going to make this man regret ever setting foot in my bar.
But for now, I want him to think I’m in this, too.
“We split the work equally. And you can’t use the bar as a brothel.
I’m not opposed to sex work, but the local sheriff is nosy.
” His uncle had been sheriff before him, and he expected Rita to get on her knees if he caught her doing anything less than legal.
I don’t know if the nephew is the same, but it’s safe to assume the worst when it comes to law enforcement.
Clay stretches out on his back on the bed. “I don’t do that anymore.”
“Really?” I ask in mock-surprise, twisting to look at him. “Because I saw your dick in Kristen and money changing hands.”
His sinuous lips take on a sour shape. “She found out I’m a stripper and made some assumptions—not necessarily incorrect, in this case. But like you said, she deserves some fun, and I had nothing better to do.”
My jaw drops. “You charged that poor second-grade teacher—a single mom coming off a bad divorce to an absolute drain-clogging hairball of a man—four hundred dollars because you’re bored? Kristen’s hot. Why not have a casual hook-up?”
“She didn’t ask for a hook-up.” He rolls onto his side, propping himself on his elbow, close enough to me that I scoot back a few inches, but not before I get a good look at those light amber eyes.
They’re rimmed in a darker brown and shot through with gold.
“I gave her the experience of taking charge of her desires,” he says.
“Of asking for what she wants from someone who will happily give it to her. For the first time, her pleasure was the only thing that mattered during sex. That’s what she paid for. Before you walked in and ruined it.”
My face flames. I close my eyes, but all I see is them fucking on my desk. Instead of making me angry, heat pools between my legs. I really don’t need to be broke and on the verge of losing my bar and horny—the worst trifecta.
“If it were a hook-up, yes, I’d put her first,” he continues in that calm tone. “I’d have made her come so many times she wouldn’t be walking right for days. But there’d be some give and take. I’d expect to be satisfied, too.”
What would it take to satisfy him?
Ugh, why does that intrusive thought give me a little thrill? I’m blaming the residual caffeine from the energy drinks.
“For once, everything was about her experience, not our experience, and definitely not mine. How do you think that made her feel, given how her ex treated her? What price would you put on her confidence?”
I open my eyes, and while he’s looking at me, there’s not a trace of anger or censure in his gaze. Just a quiet, contemplative study that makes me squirm.
“I’ll apologize to Kristen,” I say.
“I think she’d rather you didn’t mention it.”
Same. I certainly don’t want to relive it every time I close my eyes.
He traces a long, slender finger along a deep red seam in the quilt. “And four hundred is a fraction of what I’d typically charge for a few hours of my company.”
I narrow my eyes at my quilt, which he’s still caressing. “Well, lucky me, you make so much that you were able to replace my bed. Looks like I’ll be sleeping well tonight.”
His eyes twinkle as he leans close. I’m stuck, a fly in a web, unable to move as he whispers, “Do you want to sleep with me, Ms. Gallo?”
Ms. Gallo shouldn’t be doing the things it’s doing to me. “Are you propositioning me, Mr. Bastien?” That was the name on the paperwork. “When your dick’s still wet?”
At that, he finally smiles. His lips are a shade on the thin side, but it doesn’t stop them from turning that smile wicked. “You saw the condom, and I’ll shower first. I’ve got nothing to do until my bar opens, and you look like you could use a good fuck.”
My bar, I start to bite back, but my brain does a record scratch over his last words. How dare he?
I take his hand—casually draped over his stomach—in mine, and he lets me.
“We could fuck…” I say lightly, my voice dripping with sugar as I idly stroke up and down his index finger with my fingertips.
He watches with the satisfaction of a lazy cat.
I drop the sugar from my voice, along with his hand—“Or you could jerk yourself off somewhere else.”
There’s fire in his honey eyes, and I get a hit of smug satisfaction from the way he clenches and releases the hand I’d fondled.
But I’m in danger the longer I stay in this room with him, because he’s right.
I do need a good fuck, but not from him.
I’ve learned my lesson, and everything about this man screams liar, con, and dangerous.
So I get to my feet and point to the door. “You can leave now.”
He’s on his feet almost before I can blink, looming over me. I tighten my fist at my side in case I’ve miscalculated, but he merely tilts my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “I’m sleeping here. If you don’t like it, go find a lawyer willing to work pro bono.”
All my smug satisfaction drains in an instant. “We just agreed to share this place!”
He shrugs. “The bar. Not the bed.”