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“Do you really use gigolo…services?” I ask hesitantly. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since Clover said it so casually.
“Yes.” His voice sounds calm, but he tightens his arms around me.
“Why?” I ask softly.
“It served a purpose. I just wanted to get off. And those guys know what I like.” Jealousy tries to rear its ugly head, but I slap it back where it came from.
“No touching, no kissing?”
“Among other things.” He presses my hand on his pec, like he wants to show me that I’m different. I already know I am.
I open my mouth to question him more, when he asks, “How did you start fighting?”
“Been doing it for a while now. Dick, he knows people in that circle.”
“Did he force you?”
“Not the way you’re thinking. My brother…I need the money.” To get away from this life. But Rague? Can I leave him behind?
“I got you, Ollie.”
God, I wish it was true. But does he really? He wants me here, with a seventeen-year-old teen? Not likely.
I yawn again; we need to talk more, but exhaustion is quickly muddling my brain. Rague lifts me in his arms and for once, I’m too sleepy to argue.
I wake up sometime later with a pair of strong arms around me, my face and hands buried against miles of firm chest. It takes me a few seconds to realize I’m in Rague’s bed.
Chapter 11
RAGUE
When I wake up, it’s morning. The light is seeping in under the curtains, illuminating the room. I turn my head and look at Ollie lying next to me. Head on the pillow, hand on my pec, and one leg on top of mine.
Sleeping with someone is new to me.
I slide my eyes down his slim body. Those powerful thighs felt so damn good last night. I wanted to fuck his ass, but he looked sore. Didn’t want to hurt him. Not like that. He seemed to enjoy the BJ I gave him. Came fast. For my first time, I think I did good. Never felt like blowing one of the guys from the agency. But Ollie is mine. His taste, I want more of it on my tongue.
In his sleep, the constant smirk is absent from his full lips. His hair is flopping down over his cheeks, and I notice for the first time how long his lashes are. I want to see his eyes—and that beautiful brown imperfection inside one of them. They remind me of spring, of mountain, minty air, and translucent, clear waters. They can turn from angry glacial-green to a sassy brilliant jade, to hooded emerald when shining with mind-blowing need.
I catch a glimpse of the reddened spots on his throat where I bit his skin last night. Couldn’t stop myself. Ollie has the ability to turn me into an animal.
His hand on my pec doesn’t make me feel uneasy anymore. I want him to touch me more, and I know he does too. I saw the need in his eyes and in his curled fingers, but he respects my limits—as much as he can. I couldn’t have found a better person for me.
I still want to tie his hands over his head and force him to swallow my cock while I straddle his face, and then pound his ass ruthlessly, though. That kind of control over him makes me so fucking hard. Even more so knowing he’ll let me.
Ollie’s phone suddenly starts to ring from down in the kitchen. He jerks awake and sits up on the bed, blinking his eyes before glancing around. The frown on his face is adorable. It disappears too quickly when the sleepy veil is lifted from his foggy mind.
He turns his head to me and smiles. Such a warm smile, like he’s truly happy to see me. Nobody has ever looked at me this way before.
His phone rings again, and his beautiful eyes widen with surprise. He scrambles off the bed and I watch as his bouncing ass disappears down the hallway.
I can’t hear what he’s saying from here, so I follow him. There’s such warmth in his voice while he talks. “How’s the trip?” But his tone is growing anxious the more he speaks. “What? When? Why didn’t you call me? I’ll pick you up.” He sounds worried, nervous. “No. Fuck! Okay. I’m coming.”
“What is it?” I ask him when he hangs up.
He blinks a couple of times before his gaze focuses on me. “Nothing. I need to go.” He averts his eyes, his voice flat.
It’s almost ridiculous how he thinks I’ll let him just go.
