Emee #3
“God, I hope there isn’t a real fire.” I cross my arms over my chest, hoping to get my nipples under control.
“I don’t even have my purse, my wallet…everything is in there.
But, at least I grabbed my phone.” I reach into the side pocket of my drenched sweats and tug it out, breathing a relieved sigh when I tap the screen and it brightens, showing the listing photo of the farmhouse I loaded as my screen saver.
I believe what you focus on, you find, so bringing that house into my day as much as possible makes it feel more attainable.
Or, at least it did.
King shakes his head. “Fire or not, it’s going to take a while. And the water…there will be remediation for weeks.”
“Weeks?” I turn, incredulous. Thoughts of how I’m going to get the money to bail Benjamin out careen around inside my head. “I need to work. This… This can’t be happening right now.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, and there’s no way I can cancel my sessions.
I have to get back on the ice, and,” He tongues his teeth, looking me up and down, smirking when I tighten my grip across my chest, “you need to work, like you said. You were doing a bang-up job with me up there. We’ll do the sessions at my place. I’ve got a perfectly good bed.”
He cocks a sexy brow, sunlight glinting from the water on his face, and it takes a thoughtful effort to not give in to my baser instincts.
“Really?” I smirk as he drags a lazy finger over his lips, the blue of his eyes matching the sky behind him. “And how many other women have slept in your bed, King?”
“None.” He looks me up and down, snapping his tongue in his cheek. “You’ll be the only one. But, I don’t imagine we’ll be sleeping, will we, doc?”
Only one.
He’s so infuriatingly attractive. Luckily, a handful of my brain cells line up to save me.
“No. I don’t meet clients in their homes. Occasionally in a neutral place if I have to travel to them for some reason, but never—”
“Great. I’ll get you a hotel room.”
“No…”
He’s already pulled his phone out, his fingers tapping away. “The Lux has a great suite available. It’s just a block down.”
He’s not asking.
"No,” I say again, shaking my head.
A client that A) I just met and B) I broke every rule of the code of conduct with, cannot pay for a hotel room for me. If anyone found out about what just happened upstairs, I’d be ruined.
He nods. “Yes, you can. For me. I can’t miss a session, lots of people counting on you getting my head straight.”
I hesitate.
Girl, you should say no. Say no.
“I’ll be seeing other clients there,” I tell him, my mouth working before my brain can stop me. “Not just you.”
What the hell are you doing, Emee?
He answers with that distracting half-smile that shows off the sexiest chipped tooth I’ve ever seen. “Whatever you say, firecracker.”
My options are limited. Take clients at my apartment? No.
Pay for my own hotel? Yeah, but my purse is upstairs, I can’t get to a credit card or my license to book it…
Call Milton and ask for another favor? Or, my friend Anita? I hate asking for help.
“Hey!” I wave down one of the firefighters that’s standing next to one of the trucks. “Is there a fire? When can I get back in?”
“No evidence of fire yet. If you were on the floor where the alarm sounded, I don’t know, we are still up there seeing what’s what. But, a few days at least. But, if there is a fire, and it takes off, there’s no tellin’.”
I close my eyes, covering my nose and mouth with my shaking hands.
More firefighters rush by, heading for the door. I need my work. I need the money. Benjamin’s current trouble aside, I have bills to pay. Both of ours.
And this handsome hunk of hockey craziness that seems hell-bent on tipping my world on its head is offering me a solution.
“Fine,” I say. “Fine. But, I will be paying you back.”
“Good luck with that,” he says, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. “Here. You can’t be without money.”
I shake my head, but he shoves a wad of cash my way, along with a black credit card.
When I shake my head, he shoves it into the drenched pocket of my sweatpants.
“You will take it. You can’t be without money, baby.”
“I…” A wicked rush of excitement warms me, seeing the dangerous but protective look in his eyes. “Fine. But I’m keeping track of every penny. I’ll give you an exact accounting with receipts and as soon as I get things sorted out, I’m paying you. Period.”
He tips his head on a sniff, like I’m entertaining him. Water drips down his neck from the waves of hair plastered to his skin.
“I like you thinking you owe me something, baby. But you should know,” He leans in, his lips grazing my cheek, moving toward my ear, “the second you said my name up there, while you creamed in your panties, you agreed to be mine.”
My breath hitches, embarrassment heating my cheeks as his fingers twine with mine and that throbbing starts again between my legs.
“And,” he says, with an irritating smirk, tempting me to kiss him. His hand sneaks its way down my drenched back, radiating warmth. Then he lands a loud, wet smack on my behind. “I take care of my things.”