Damaged Goods (2 page)

time and company. Sex wasn"t required. It wasn"t all that unusual for an escort to

do exactly as his name suggested and escort his client to a restaurant, the opera,

wherever. Perfectly legal. Perfectly socially acceptable.

And perfectly boring.

Eight twenty-eight.

Any second.

To hell with chickening out. I hadn"t shelled out this much money to sit with

the guy and talk about bland watercolor flowers. Odds were, he was legitimate, and

my libido was pretty persuasive with its suggestions that it was worth the risk that

he wasn"t.

Eight twenty-nine.

But if my ex found out. If my boss found out. If my kids found out.

Eight thirty.

I need this. I want this. I’m going to do this. Shit. I can’t do this.

4

Lauren Gallagher

A sharp knock startled me.

Too late for second thoughts.

Gulping back my nervousness and ignoring the swarm of cracked-out

butterflies in my stomach, I rose and approached the door warily.

I took a deep breath. Turned the deadbolt. Opened the door.

Madre de Dios.

Standing across the threshold was the kind of man who"d never have noticed

me if I hadn"t just put a few Benjamins into his pocket. In photos, he was gorgeous.

In the flesh, absolutely stunning. His light brown hair was playfully mussed, the

look that was just shy of an engraved invitation to run my fingers through it. His

hazel eyes edged closer to green now than they had in his photos, which was

probably just a trick of the light. He was several inches taller than me with a flat

stomach and broad shoulders, and I immediately had the impression he could throw

me around and get rough if I wanted him to, and I did. Hell yes, I did.

The Elephant Man he was not.

Most of the guys on the site were completely clean-shaven, but Sabian had a

neatly trimmed goatee. It was thinner than it had been in his photos, like he"d

recently shaved it and was letting it grow back, and it framed the most

mouthwatering set of lips I"d ever seen on a man.

“Some clients don"t like the escorts to kiss them,” the woman at the agency had

said. “Is that something that would be an issue?”

“No,” I"d said, “kissing is fine.”

Looking at his mouth now, wondering just what those lips were capable of,

kissing was more than fine.

He raised an eyebrow. “Deanna, I assume?” Disappointment fluttered in my

stomach for a split second, thinking he"d come to the wrong room, before my brain

caught up and reminded me of the false name I"d given the agency.

“Deanna. Yes.”

“Sabian.” He extended his hand, and light skittered up the deep blue fabric of

his shirt. Silk, I guessed, from the way it caught the light. The material begged me

to touch it, to run my hands over it, and I wondered if that was why he"d worn it.

This whole situation got a hell of a lot weirder when it dawned on me that I
could

run my hands over it, could touch it and anything under it as much as I damn well

pleased, because I"d paid for the right to do so.

I just shook his hand before gesturing for him to follow me into the room. He

closed the door with a quiet
click
, and my heartbeat drowned out the television in

the next room.

Neither of us spoke. I stopped and faced him, unsure just where we went from

here. This was one part I hadn"t considered: getting from the initial introduction to

the reason I"d paid him to be here. The whole point was skipping all the games and

headache that inevitably accompanied even a one-night stand, but presumably we

Damaged Goods

5

didn"t just drop trou and go at it. Or maybe we did. How much of an overture did

something like this require? Was there some kind of sacred prostitute-client

etiquette I didn"t know about?

I bit my lip and folded my arms across my chest, fidgeting between the man

and the bed. “I, um…”

He smiled. “You"ve never done this before, have you?”

My face burned. “Not with…” I gulped. “A professional.”

“There"s a first time for everything.” He took a tentative step toward me,

pausing to let me breathe before he took another. “Just tell me what you want.”

I searched his eyes for signs he was searching mine. Was this the part where I

incriminated myself and said I wanted sex, at which point the cops came in and

busted me? Or he handcuffed me in a decidedly unsexy manner?

Finally I said, “I want what I paid for.”

He laughed softly. “You"re already getting what you paid for.” He gestured at

himself. “I"m here for two hours or until you kick me out, whichever comes first.”

I moistened my lips. “Well, I wasn"t thinking of kicking you out. I can"t say I"m

sure how we…where we…” I paused, clearing my throat. “I"ll be honest, I"m

completely clueless about this.” There was something oddly liberating in admitting

that. It was a reminder he wasn"t here to judge me, that his opinion or evaluation of

me was irrelevant. I didn"t have to impress him.

Which was good. I didn"t doubt my sexual prowess, but I doubted there was

much I could do in bed to impress Sabian of Elite Escorts.

He shifted his weight. His eyes darted over my shoulder, presumably at the

downturned bed. When he looked at me again, he raised an eyebrow and gave me a

playful grin. “Are you worried I"m a cop?”

My cheeks got hotter, and when I dropped my gaze, I nodded. “A little, yeah.”

Without speaking, he put a hand on my waist, and I think I inhaled all the air

in the room in one sharp gasp. When I"d relaxed—sort of—he did the same with his

other hand. I couldn"t say if he pulled me to him or if he came to me, or if the space

between us simply folded in on itself until it ceased to exist, but somehow we were

against each other, and he kissed me.

His kiss was gentler than I expected. That may have been because I had no

idea what to expect anyway, but I definitely hadn"t bargained for the soft, still

presence of his lips against mine. I tensed as soon as our mouths made contact, and

he waited for some of that tension to ease before he made another move. After I"d

tensed and relaxed again, he deepened the kiss, and I almost fooled myself into

believing I wrapped my arms around him just to keep my balance.

Like no kiss I"d ever experienced, his was an introduction. It was a chance for

my body to get accustomed to his, for my senses to get the hang of his overwhelming

presence. His soft goatee brushing my skin when his jaw moved, his tongue sliding

past my lips. The faint suggestion of cologne. Cool silk over hot skin beneath my

hands

6

Lauren Gallagher

His hand drifted down my back. I thought he was about to squeeze my ass, but

he stopped at the small of my back and pressed in with his fingers, pulling me to

him so I could feel his erection. I shivered. No, we were
not
going to spend this

evening discussing weather or watercolors.

As gently as he"d started it, Sabian broke the kiss.

“If I was a cop,” he whispered, “I wouldn"t have done that.” He gave me a

knowing grin. “And if you were one, you wouldn"t have let me, so I"d say we"re in the

clear now, wouldn"t you?”

“I guess that clears things up, yes.” I couldn"t believe how badly my voice

shook. Dropping my gaze again, I added, “I"m sorry, this is so…”

“Don"t apologize. A lot of clients are nervous the first time.” The softness of his

voice matched his kiss, and desire for the latter made my lips tingle. He raised my

chin so our eyes met when he said, “You gave Becky your list of limits when you set

this up. I won"t do anything you put on that list, and if there"s anything else you

decide you don"t want, all you have to do is speak up. Okay?”

I nodded.

“So now that we"ve cleared that up,” he said with a playful lilt, “and we"ve

established that neither of us are cops, why don"t you tell me what you
do
want me

to do?”

I"d never been the one to take the reins in the bedroom. Ever. The faint scent

of his cologne made me want to tear that blue silk shirt right off him and demand

he fuck me, but nerves conspired to keep me still and tongue-tied. I must have

looked like a complete idiot to him.

If I did, he didn"t let on. Instead, he kissed me again, and at least one of us

wasn"t tongue-tied. When his hand moved on my back, I half-expected the “is this

okay?” touch beneath the back of my shirt, but it moved up instead of down. Right

up the center, leaving a trail of goose bumps along my spine and across my ribs

before trailing over the back of my neck and into my hair. Barely there fingertips

brushed over my scalp, making my breath catch and sending a shiver right through

me.

Then his light touch became a firm grasp, and in the same instant that he

pulled my head back, he broke the kiss and descended on my neck. I whimpered and

dug my fingers into his shoulders, certain every bone in my body was a heartbeat

away from liquefying.

Oh, Lord, the things this man could do with his mouth. He searched my neck

for erogenous zones, and whenever he found one, he teased it with the tip of his

tongue, his lips, even his goatee. His shirt bunched in my hands as I tried to keep

myself upright. It seemed a shame to wrinkle such fine fabric, but it was about to be

in a rumpled heap on the floor anyway, so to hell with it.

I grabbed the front of the shirt I"d already started wrinkling and took a step

back, hauling him with me. That first step was a leap of faith, and once it was

taken, I was sure I could do this. I could
definitely
do this. The second was more

Damaged Goods

7

confident. The third was shaky because his lips were on my neck and his breath was

on my skin and his hand was on my hip, sliding around to my lower back and

keeping me against him, close to him, as close as two fully dressed people could be.

He raised his head and reached into his back pocket. Then he leaned past me

to set a few condoms on the table between the beds. Their presence made this all

more real. I was suddenly less certain I could do this and doubly sure I wanted to.

Especially when I glanced at them again and recognized both the logo and

distinctive gold foil. I"d only been with a few men who"d needed Trojan Magnums

and one who
thought
he did. With Sabian"s hard cock pressed against my hip, there

was no mistaking that his condom preference was more than just an ego extension.

With uncertain fingers, I went for his top button. The first few buttons were

easy. The more they fell away, revealing more and more of his chest, the more both

my knees and hands shook. They didn"t get any steadier when he gently freed my

blouse from my skirt. The warmth of his fingertips on the small of my back

straightened my spine, and when he slid his hands up my sides, lifting my blouse

up and off, I suppressed a whimper.

Shoes came off. His belt and pants. My skirt that was ridiculously long for this

situation. Without that skirt, I still felt ridiculous, this time because of my simple

white cotton bra and briefs. I"d thought about wearing something out of the sexy

drawer but chickened out at the last minute.

Sabian didn"t mind. He unclasped my bra with ease, dropped it on top of the

rest of our clothes, then pushed my strictly utilitarian briefs over my hips.

The man obviously had a thing for silk, and I couldn"t resist running my hand

over his hip, telling myself I just wanted to feel the smooth, warm texture of his

black boxers. Sabian wasn"t so easily convinced, though. He must have known what

I really wanted, because he closed his fingers around my wrist and guided my hand

to the front of his shorts. The first thing that crossed my mind when I squeezed his

erection through his boxers was, “this is going to hurt.” The second was, “I can"t

fucking wait.”

I closed my eyes, forcing a deep breath into my lungs. This was a dream. Men

like this simply didn"t exist. They sure as hell didn"t join me in a hotel room with a

mouthwatering hard-on in silk boxers.

“Doing okay?” His voice startled me. My eyes flew open and met his. His

eyebrows lifted with concern and alarm.

“I"m fine. I"m fine.” My cheeks were on fire. “Just…still…this is…”

“It"s new. It"s okay.” Like his words, his smile was anything but patronizing.

“You"re allowed to be nervous.”

I laughed softly. “Thanks.”

He drew me closer, kissing me again. Warm-cool silk brushed my bare skin,

making my breath catch. Without breaking the kiss, I slipped my fingers under his

waistband. I wasn"t sure if it was boldness that drove me or just the need to not be

the more exposed person in the room, but the end result was the same.

8