Page 45 of Highest Bidder

He’d taken what he wanted, still rough and controlling, but then he’d pulled me against his chest afterward and whispered,Go to sleep, baby.

Notwhore.

Baby.

That shouldn’t have meant anything; it was just a word; two syllables.

But it felt like it spoke volumes.

And that’s what scared me.

Because while I liked being his whore, probably more than I cared to admit, I’d started liking the man who called me that too.

His kindness would only complicate things.

Because no matter how soft his grip felt wrapped around my waist, I couldn’t forget what this was: a contract. A countdown.

Two more weekends. Then it was over.

He was a doctor, and I was a stripper who’d sold myself to him, and this wasn’tPretty Woman.

I’d be best served to remember that.

~~~~

Steam filled the bathroom as I rinsed the conditioner from my hair. I hadn’t heard the door open, and I jumped when I opened my eyes and saw him standing just outside the glass-block shower wall of the guest bath, dressed in a pair of jeans and a grey San Diego State hoodie.

“Oh my gosh, you scared me!”

“Sorry, I thought you heard me come in. You need to get ready when you’re done in here. Put on something warm and wear comfortable shoes.”

“I don’t have anything warm. I only brought dresses; that’s all I’m allowed—remember?”

“Fine, we’ll stop by your apartment so you can change.”

My stomach dipped and I thought about how Tom had described my apartment building as a dump. I didn’t want Jeff to see how I lived.

He must have noticed my hesitation because he asked, “What? I’m not going to stalk you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I turned the water off and wrung out my hair.

“I’m not worried about that.” He handed me a towel, and I rubbed it over my legs. “Where are we going?”

“A festival.”

That was it. No smile or explanation.

“Like a fall festival? With apple cider and pumpkins?”

“I guess. I thought you’d appreciate having something to do other than choke on my dick.”

“How chivalrous of you.”

“I know, right? So, get ready, and we’ll swing by your apartment so you can put on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt.”

He turned to leave, then stopped.

“But, Vivian?”

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