Page 25 of These White Lies
As he prowls closer, I can see his eyes. Though his lips are smiling,theyare definitely not. Stopping a few feet away he’s close enough that I can smell the rich scent of his cologne and make out the slight shadow of stubble beneath the mask.
His perusal of me is just as intense. His gaze travels over my body, from head to heels and back again, before settling on my mouth. Bright green eyes blaze with heat, and the tanned column of his throat works as he swallows, sending inappropriately timed tingles from between my legs up to my breasts.
We stare at each other in silence, and I swear my heart is beating hard enough for him to hear.
“They certainly knew what they were doing when they chose you.” His words are so soft I almost miss the regretful note in them.
He closes the distance between us and catches the hair that’s come loose from my chignon. Rubbing the strands between his thumb and forefinger, his nostrils flare. “I don’t even want to imagine how expensive you are.”
It’s as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water over my head.
I slap his hand away. “Ex-fucking-cuse me?”
His eyes light with interest, but he doesn’t step back. I shove his chest, trying not to notice the solid wall of muscle, or that I am 1000 percent certain he wouldn’t have budged if he hadn’t wanted to.
The mystery man eases back a step, but his gaze is locked on me, keeping my nerves strung tight. My pulse jackrabbits, and my traitorous body thrums with unwanted need.
I wish I could see his face. It would make it easier to judge what he is thinking. But all I have to work with are his incredible eyes, firm jaw, and full lips.
Not helping, Elizabeth, I tell myself as the pulse between my thighs intensifies.
“You aren’t working tonight?” He finally breaks the tense silence, his posture relaxing.
“I am.” Is that disappointment in his eyes? “Sort of.”
His mouth quirks. “Either you are or you’re not.”
“This is work-adjacent. I’m a guest.”
Why am I explaining myself to him? I should leave, but it’s like I’m rooted to the spot, and my unfortunate curiosity wants to see where this conversation goes.
There’s no denying the relief in his eyes now, and the visible skin around his eyes relaxes.
“So, you’re not one of Carrow’s…” He lets his voice trail off, and his mask shifts as if he’s lifted his eyebrows.
Understanding hits me.
“I’m not a hooker, no.” I glare at him.
“I think he likes to call them companions.”
“Gross.”
“You shouldn’t be so judgmental. I know a lot of escorts.”
My lip curls. “I don’t think needing to pay for sex is something to brag about.”
Disappointment hits harder than it should.
What do you have to be disappointed about? Did you think this was going somewhere?
Hot guy in a mask… Yeah, for a second… maybe.
Not now.
He smiles. A flash of white in the lamplight.
“You’re right, though.” I say, sniffing. “If Iwereworking, you wouldn’t be able to afford me.”
