Escorted (17 page)

“I wasn’t
expecting you to have an opening in your schedule so soon,” Lori said,
interested in his availability and also just wanting to make conversation.

Ander hesitated
as he sipped his wine. Then he finally said, “I’ve been cutting back a little.”

Lori’s eyes
widened. “On your clients, you mean? Why is that?”

His lips
tightened and Lori recognized the shuttered expression. She recognized it very
well.

Before he could
fob her off with some piece of nonsense, she said, “I ask a lot of questions. I
can’t help it. That’s who I am. But don’t get all tense and closed off if I ask
something you don’t want to answer. Just tell me to shut up.”

To her relief, Ander’s
expression relaxed. “Understood.”

She wasn’t sure
why, but she kind of liked the idea that Ander wasn’t seeing as many clients as
he used to. She clearly remembered how much she’d disliked seeing him with
Sarah at the fundraiser. “I suppose being a male escort might not be a line of
work you want to continue indefinitely. Have you ever thought about switching
careers?”

He nodded
slowly, his eyes resting on the bed across the room. “Occasionally.”

It wasn’t much
of an answer, and it didn’t tell her nearly as much as she wanted to know. But
at least he hadn’t told her to shut up. She wanted to push him on this issue,
but she made herself hold back. Instead, she moved over to the bed with her
wine and stretched out, making herself comfortable since she was pretty sure
now she’d want to have sex later on.

She said in a
light drawl, “You know what you should be? A sex therapist.”

Obviously taken
by surprise, Ander gave an inelegant snort over the rim of his wine glass.
“Excuse me?”

“A sex
therapist. Just think about how good you were with helping me out. People would
line up for sessions from you.”

For a moment, Lori
held her breath—unsure of Ander’s reaction. It could have gone either way. But
then his lips twitched. “There would be an appalling sort of irony to that
career choice.”

She grinned. 
“Or you could do what I suggested before. Do seminars and webinars with
instructions on how men can better please women.” Thinking about Phil, her
expression transformed into a bitter scowl. “They definitely need the advice.”

Ander arched
one eyebrow. “Any particular disappointing experience you'd like to share?”

“Shut up.”
Although she’d fixed her scowl on Ander now because of his smug smirk, she
wasn’t really annoyed with him. She felt a ridiculous urge to giggle. “Oh, I
know! You should write a book.”

Ander shook his
head with wry amusement. “If you’re going to suggest I write romance novels—”

“No, no,” she
interrupted. “Although I’m sure you’d probably write good ones. I mean you
should write a non-fiction book on all you’ve learned about women. It would be
a best-seller.”

“The
Confessions of a Male Hooker?”

His voice was
still amused but she didn’t like the note of bitterness she detected. “Not like
that. I suppose your former profession could be a marketing ploy, but I mean
more like a how-to book. I’m serious. You really should write up all the wisdom
and insight you have about women and relationships.”

“Wisdom and
insight?” Faint skepticism was etched on his handsome features.

Lori
straightened up on the bed, frowning at him in annoyance. “How can you be so
smug one minute and then so completely oblivious the next? You’re one of the
smartest people I’ve ever met. And I’ve never met anyone with the kind of
experience with human nature you’ve had. I’m not saying it’s a blessing or that
it didn’t come with a price. But you have it. Why not use it?”

His gaze was
oddly still. Quiet. “I do use it.”

She made a
frustrated noise in her throat. “I meant use it to write a book. Channel it in
a different way. I have a lot of contacts in the publishing industry. I can
almost guarantee I’d find at least a few editors who’d be interested in giving
it a read.”

Ander just
looked at her for a full minute, his expression so acutely observant that Lori
wanted to squirm. “Are you trying to convert me out of my life of depravity?”

Lori almost
sputtered. She hadn’t thought that was what she was doing. She’d just gotten an
idea and run with it—the way she always did. “What kind of hypocrite would I be
if I was doing that, given how much money I’ve paid you to fuck me? I hope you
don’t think I was judging you. I wouldn’t.” She stared down at her wine glass,
strangely self-conscious all of a sudden. “You don’t really think I was doing
that, do you?”

“Lori,” Ander
began, his voice drawing her eyes to his face again. “Sometimes I have no idea
what to think of you.”

Not sure
whether she’d been complimented or insulted, she gave him a cool glare. “Well,
I assure you the feeling is mutual.”

She thought his
lip might have given that delicious twitch, but he was still seated in the chair,
too far away from the bed to be sure.

“Were you
really thinking of leaving the business?” Lori asked at last.

“I never said
that. You asked if I ever think about it, and naturally I think about it
occasionally.”

“Do you
actually find this line of work...satisfying?”

Ander gave a
slight shrug. “I’m good at it. I make a lot of money. I set my own terms. I’ve
succeeded in...”

When he trailed
off, Lori prompted, “Succeeded in what?” Not for the first time, she wondered
if Ander was happy. If he was anything close to happy with the life he’d made
for himself.

She really
didn’t want to judge him—not knowing anything about what had shaped his
choices—but she couldn’t imagine that he found life genuinely satisfying
allowing his body and even his personhood to be used the way it was.

He shook his
head and didn’t answer.

“Was it hard?” Lori
asked, letting the questions spill out now that she’d started on the subject
she’d been too afraid to ask about before. “The first time, I mean. Was it hard
when you started being an escort?”

Ander was
silent for a long time as he stared at an empty spot in the air. Then he said,
“Shut up, Lori.”

Lori huffed and
gave a little flounce of frustration on the bed, but she couldn’t complain or
say anything. She was the one who had told Ander to shut her down if she became
too nosy.

Watching her
pout, Ander chuckled and finished off his wine. He looked a lot more at ease
now than he had the last time she’d seen him. She wondered what had changed.
What kind of personal resolutions he’d come to. What had allowed him to level
off the emotional tension she’d witnessed before.

She still
didn’t know what all of that emotional tension last month even meant.

There were far
too many things about Ander that she didn’t know. And she realized how much she
deeply disliked her ignorance. The curiosity she’d always felt about Ander had,
for some reason, intensified into a driving need to
know
.

But Ander
clearly wasn’t going to tell her—not even the most basic of answers.

He just sat
there, drinking his wine, still laughing softly to himself.

“What are you
laughing at?” she demanded, deciding she was annoyed with him for enjoying her
frustration, even as mildly as he was.

“Hasn’t anyone
told you no before when you pry into their lives?”

“Yes, but
usually I’m able to get around that.” She gave Ander an assessing look, trying
to figure out what it would take to get him to open up about his secrets, about
all the things he refused to tell her.

Ander just
chuckled again, as if he knew exactly what she was plotting and knew she didn’t
have a chance of succeeding.

Lori gave a
gasp of outrage at his brazen amusement at her expense and impulsively chucked
a pillow at him.

It hit him
squarely in the chest with a satisfying whoosh.

Ander blinked
at her.

Pleased at having
taken him by surprise, she threw another pillow at him. This one was aimed even
better, and it smacked into his face before flopping in his lap.

Ander made a
winded sound and dropped the pillow onto the floor near the first one. “A
rather childish entertainment, don’t you think?”

At another
time, his dry tone might have smothered her playful impulses, made her feel
foolish and young. But she knew he’d pitched his voice to be patronizing on
purpose to adjust the playing field in his favor.

She ignored his
comment. For the moment she had the upper-hand and she wasn’t about to lose it.

There were six
pillows on the bed. She threw another one at him. Again, it connected with his
face and he made a huffing sound at the impact.

Then he got to
his feet.

Feeling a
thrill of excitement, Lori grabbed the other three pillows in preparation.

She hurled
another one as he advanced toward the bed. It hit Ander with more force than
her other attempts, but her aim wasn’t quite as careful. The pillow hit his
groin, making him grunt.

Lori couldn’t
hold back a giggle as she prepared for another assault.

To her dismay, Ander
caught her next missile and smoothly dropped it into the pile with the others
before he reached the side of the bed.

He was smiling
now. A new smile. One that was dangerous, almost predatory. It prompted a
shudder of excitement along her spine and took her breath away.

She clutched at
her last pillow, gripping it desperately as she resisted Ander’s attempts to
pull it out of her hands.

“It is
unquestionably foolish to begin a battle when you don’t know the full strength
of your adversary,” Ander murmured.

“I
do
know,”
Lori insisted, scooting back on the bed a little as Ander loomed threateningly
over her.

Then he
cheated. He absolutely cheated. He grabbed her ankle and brushed his fingers
lightly over the sole of her bare foot.

Her ticklish
instinct triggered, she squealed and jerked her foot away.

While she was
distracted, Ander smoothly pulled the pillow from her loosened grip.

“Hey!” She
stared in mute outrage as Ander added the final pillow to his stash by the
table.

Now he had all
the pillows. And she didn’t have any.

“That was a
cheap shot,” she gritted out, sizing up his position and the distance to the
pile of pillows.

“I told you.
Without full knowledge of your adversary, you’ll invariably lose the battle.”
He smiled at her again, that same predatory smile that seemed almost more
natural to him than his ironic one. Until now, she’d never known this side of Ander
even existed. “You have no idea how low I’ll stoop to win a challenge.”

It only took Lori
a moment to figure out what to do. “You’re right. Well played.” She beamed at
him, using her broad, sunny smile in the hopes that it would put him off his
guard.

He didn’t drop
his guard, but, as he gazed down at her, she saw a brief expression in his eyes
that was just a little softer than usual.

So she acted.

She reached out
and grabbed his crotch, taken aback when she felt he was slightly hard. Pushing
past that distraction, she squeezed him there—making sure not to genuinely hurt
him.

When he
grunted, she slipped past his looming figure and made a dash for the pillows.

She’d almost
reached them when she felt a strong arm wrap around her middle, heaving her up
until she was slung over one of his shoulders like a bag of grain.

She howled in
outrage and flailed her arms and legs. To no avail. Ander’s arm was unyielding
as he braced her in position until he reached the bed and unceremoniously
dumped her back onto the mattress.

Gasping,
flushed, and more excited than was entirely reasonable, Lori said by way of
explanation, “You’re not the only one who will stoop low to win.”

“Evidently.”

“That’s what
you get for tickling me.” She stuck out her chin to show her determination and
her unwillingness to be cowed by his stalking intimidation.

He stood next
to the bed and stared down at her. He’d gotten tenser and the feral, dangerous
look was even stronger in his eyes. Every muscle in Lori’s body tightened as
she waited in breathless expectation.

She knew he was
going to do something. But she had no idea what he would do.

Then he did it.

He grabbed her
ankle again and started to tickle her foot. Lori squealed and squirmed, but she
couldn't free herself. Ander was relentless as his strong, skillful hands
worked over one foot and then the other. And then started traveling up her
calves to the sensitive spots at the back of her knees, pushing up her cashmere
pants as he went.

Lori writhed on
the bed, overcome with gasping laughter and merciless torment. She tried to
resist, tried to pull away and fight his hands. But Ander was as good at
tickling as he was at everything else. She was helpless, at his mercy, as his
hands moved up to tickle her belly and sides.

He was leaning
over her now, and Lori was practically screaming with both delight and agony.
Her legs hung off the bed, and she tried to get her feet on the floor to give
herself some leverage. But Ander adjusted against her strategy, using the
weight of his body to hold her in place.

His hands had
moved under her tank so he could tickle her bare skin. Lori wriggled and arched
and squirmed beneath him. She gasped out, “Oh God, Ander! Oh God! Ander!”

Ander was hot
and strong and substantial above her, and, in the blur of her tickle-induced
haze, she caught a glimpse of an expression on his face that was half-militant
and half-warm.

It was the
warmth in his eyes more than the militancy that shifted the nature of her
physical sensations. She couldn’t stop squirming. Couldn’t stop rocking beneath
the weight of his lean, firm body. Couldn’t stop panting and choking out his
name.