Tiago Page 7

  “Why’s that?” he shoots at me quickly.

  His eyes scan my face, curiosity beaming in his gaze.

  I lift my hand.

  “Oh... It wasn’t the way you look. The woman from the agency assured me that no one was disappointed with your looks before. It’s just that I wasn’t sure about the room number,” I keep blabbering until I finally stop.

  His eyes fill with a mysterious smile.

  “The woman from the agency, you say?”

  “Yes, Vanessa, from the VIP Men’s Club.”

  “Hmm...”

  His lips purse again, a small smile lighting up his eyes.

  I don’t know why I keep talking.

  “In all fairness, the name should be the VIP Ladies’ Club. It’s more accurate. Anyway, she was really nice.”

  His eyebrows lift, his smile getting brighter as I finally take upon his invitation and walk in.

  “I am glad to hear that, um...” he rasps.

  “Eve.”

  “Eve,” he mutters, taking pleasure in saying my name.

  I enter his place and stop inches away from him.

  Without peeling his eyes away from me, or changing his smile, he lets the door swing shut.

  “I’m glad to have you here, Eve,” he says, smoothly tearing my coat away from my hand.

  He lets it slide onto a chair before he pivots back to me, takes my hand, lifts it to his lips, and without breaking his stare, he places a soft kiss on my knuckles.

  My lips part in surprise as fire sweeps my blood.

  His eyes glint with another grin as he takes in my flushed cheeks, shaky hands, short breaths, and heaving chest.

  I’m so easy.

  He seems amused and charmed, and so far, I have nothing to complain of.

  Breathlessly, I watch him take the rose from my hand.

  He sets it on a wall table not far from us before he turns to me. His smooth motion back and forth makes me bask in the scent of his cologne. It’s so hard to ignore the fact that he is virtually shirtless.

  His body is a distraction, his eyes, and smile too.

  Forget that he looks like James. That piece of information should be analyzed some other time. Perhaps with a counselor.

  The most important thing right now is that he is not James.

  And so far, I’m more than charmed with him. Christian.

  Although, I make up my mind right on the spot.

  I can never tell Rain that Christian looks like James. Not without giving her a lengthy explanation.

  9

  EVE

  “Make yourself comfortable,” he says with a smooth, raspy voice that drips all over my skin.

  The intense heat of another blush spreads across my cheeks.

  He gestures to a plush sofa that sits not far from the coffee table.

  I lower myself in my seat before I glance around.

  His ‘hotel room’ is actually a suite with a large living room, a bedroom and a bathroom.

  The place is stylishly decorated, modern, and chic. Long linen cream drapes frame the windows, a chocolate brown rug lying on the floor.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asks as he turns the ceiling light off and leaves a couple of lamps on.

  He turns to me.

  “Um...” I mumble.

  For a moment, I get distracted by a random thought.

  As I look around, I notice that there’s no dinner table in the room set up for us.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks as if he knows what’s going through my mind.

  My eyes shift to him.

  I’m sure it’s a coincidence, but I find it strange that he asked me the exact thing I was thinking about as if somehow my thoughts have seeped into his mind.

  “No, not really.”

  His eyes stay on me for a moment, no smile on his face.

  “Drink?” he asks, lifting a bottle of wine for me to see it.

  My eyes dip.

  “Wine? Yes... I can have a glass.”

  He turns around and fills the glasses while I stay stiff on the couch.

  I try to lean back, but then the split of my dress reveals too much of my thigh, so I straighten and tug at my skirt, making sure my legs are covered.

  I also pull my cleavage up a little so that not much of my chest spills out.

  He turns around just as I tear my hand away from my dress, catching me doing it.

  Calmly, he swaggers to me, his shirt still open, the tilting of his hips turning my insides to mush.

  He stops in front of me and hands me my glass, prompting me to run my gaze up.

  I find it difficult to tear my eyes away from his hips before I slowly drag my gaze up his abs and chest until I root it to his face.

  His lips curve slightly as he looks at me with bedroom eyes.

  I take the glass with a trembling hand.

  “How long have you been doing this?” I ask after I take a swig of wine, hoping to conceal or kill my nerves.

  “This?” he asks, looking down at me.

  He hides his grin behind his glass as he smoothly takes me in.

  I swing my gaze between his face and torso, finding it impossible not to stare at the man’s chest.

  He torments me for a few more moments before he pulls away from me. The scent of his cologne clings to me as does the smoldering heat that has drifted from his skin.

  He sets the glass down on the coffee table and slowly buttons up his shirt.

  A cocky smile creases his lips while I watch him, mesmerized.

  “The escort business,” I say, but the word doesn’t register with him immediately.

  Or at least, that’s what it looks like.

  He unfastens his belt and smoothly tucks his dress shirt in before he works his pants closed and takes a seat in an armchair not far from me.

  I can’t detect the slightest shred of nervousness in him. He’s comfortable with me, it seems. At ease.

  Me, not so much.

  Still rigid on the sofa, I wait for his response.

  “The escort business...” he says, his gaze pulling away from me as he gathers his thoughts and weighs his words. “Not for long,” he says.

  An amused smile slides onto his lips. Something captures his attention for a moment. Something that remains a mystery to me.

  He sips more wine while my eyes take little snapshots of his profile. His resemblance to James is astounding.

  “What about you? Have you done this before?” he asks, swinging his gaze at me.

  His dark-green eyes sparkle with a smoldering grin.

  Distracted, I lodge into my memory his full bottom lip, his small birthmark next to his jawline, his arched eyebrows and his irises sprinkled with little dots of light.

  I sway my head from side to side.

  “No... I mean yes.”

  I stop.

  His eyebrows lift.

  “Which one is it?”

  “I’ve hired someone like you before... You’ve come highly recommended by the way. The agency as well. My friend told me all about this business.”

  I pull to a sudden halt when it dawns on me that I drone on.

  He bites his lip, a smile flooding his eyes while I keep stumbling, making a fool of myself.

  “Anyway...” I mumble before I clear my throat. “I’m sure you’re not interested in the details,” I toss at him, embarrassed.

  Relaxed, he leans back in his seat, and rests his ankle on his knee. I tip my gaze up, taking inventory of his masterfully crafted shoes, and the perfectly pressed crease of his trousers. His crisp shirt, trimmed waist, and V-shaped torso.

  “He wasn’t like you,” I say, running my mouth as I usually do.

  “In what sense?” he asks, still amused, unwilling to let me off the hook.

  “He was...”

  My focus shifts away from my words as a different thought enters my head.

  There’s something different about this man. Something in his demeanor and his gestures–– the way he s
ports his clothes.

  A questioning look sits on his face.

  “I didn’t go all the way with him,” I say.

  Fuck.

  Why is my mouth blabbering out of control?

  What is wrong with me?

  Christian smiles again, his lips arresting my attention for a long moment.

  He doesn’t seem to notice how unprepared I am for this. How nervous and clueless.

  “Would you like to go with me all the way?”

  His eyes harbor a mischievous smile.

  “Um... um...”

  I place the glass on the table with a shaky hand. I’m sure my cheeks are crimson by now.

  My answer is obvious–– I think.

  “That was the whole idea... Yes,” I say with a timid voice.

  A cocky smirk tugs at his lips.

  I smile as well, flattered by his flirting, forgetting that I’d paid him to do it, and more importantly, that he’s on the clock.

  He pushes out of his seat, and with a couple of strides, he closes the space between us. He stops in front of me, and stretches his hand out.

  Smiling nervously, I bring my hand to his palm.

  “Come,” he says, and my legs turn to rubber.

  Quivering, I push out of my seat as well and straighten.

  I find myself standing in front of him, only a sliver of space between us. A few moments away from, um... whatever he has in mind.

  Delighted, he watches me going through a rainbow of emotions.

  He leans a little closer, his breath fanning over my cheek before his lips touch my earlobe.

  “Don’t be nervous. We’ll go slowly,” he says, brushing a strand of hair away from my face with his free hand.

  His fingers touch my skin, creating small storms of pleasure on my temple and my neck.

  Slowly, he tips his chin down and presses his lips against the smooth skin of my cheek. Soft, tender, and unhurried, his touch ignites electric sparks across my skin.

  He stalls for a moment, and the time stops as I close my eyes and experience his tender touch.

  I don’t remember being so shaken by an innocent kiss like this or any kind for that matter.

  His lips trail slowly nearing my lips while his arm snakes around my waist. It all happens smoothly–– perfectly synchronized. He envelopes me in his embrace, my breasts pressing against his chest as I feel his steel-like muscles through my dress.

  I turn soft and warm and into a trembling mess as I part my lips waiting for his kiss.

  A knock on the door brings everything to a harsh stop.

  My eyes open as my mouth pulls closed.

  I stiffen in his arms.

  “Give me a second,” he says with a self-assured voice, a smile beaming in his tone.

  His touch leaves mine as he pulls away from me, heading to the door. My eyes stay on him all the way to the entrance. He opens the door, and steps outside.

  For a brief moment, I get a glimpse of a blonde woman.

  Oh... The blonde.

  What’s up with the blonde? Is he overbooked?

  I check the time on my phone. I still have about an hour left.

  A few more moments pass by before he walks back in. The woman is gone.

  By the time he strides into the room, I am sitting on the couch, my purse and phone next to me.

  I tip my gaze in his direction and read his eyes.

  He doesn’t look away.

  “Was she another client?”

  That’s when his gaze slants to his drink, a secret smile arching his lips.

  He lifts the glass from the table.

  “Yes, it was.”

  He takes a sip.

  “Am I encroaching on your time? I think I got my time slot right from Vanessa.”

  He sets his drink down and raises his hand.

  “Don’t worry. You’re fine. The woman got her date wrong.”

  “Oh...” I mutter.

  His words have the effect of a bucket of ice thrown at me.

  Within seconds, the magic withers away, and I no longer feel the warmth that I felt toward him a few moments ago.

  He catches the change of expression immediately.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t want to ruin your mood.”

  I give him a wry smile.

  “It’s not your fault. I understand,” I say forcing myself to grin through the moment of sadness mixed with panic.

  Here I am, so close to experiencing something special with this man, and one little shift brings everything to a halt.

  I’m sure he is as good as I was told that he would be, but I’m no longer in the mood to find out.

  I grab my purse and my phone before I rise to my feet.

  “I should probably go now.”

  He studies my face for a few moments, yet doesn’t say a word for a few long seconds.

  “Okay,” he finally says.

  My stomach shrinks.

  It’s not as if I expected him to try to convince me to stay–– although I did pay for a full two-hour slot, and the fee is non-refundable, whether I consume my time with him or not, but I hoped that he would feel regret as I feel now.

  Silently, he picks up my coat and helps me to shrug it on.

  A minute later, he holds the door open for me while I look at him, torn.

  “I’m sorry that it didn’t work out for you,” he says seriously.

  I think I see the flicker of a smile between his lashes.

  It takes me a moment before I step out and pivot to face him.

  For a moment, I drink him in.

  “It was nice meeting you, Christian,” I say, stretching my hand out to connect it with him.

  He erases the space between us, and there’s a brief moment of confusion as I’m unsure of what to do before he leans closer to me, and buries my hand in his fist.

  “Hug,” he murmurs with a soft voice.

  “Hug...” I say quietly as I wind my free arm around his neck.

  Gently he presses me into his chest, his arms wrapped around my body.

  He holds me in his embrace for a few good moments, my cheek pressed against his, my perfume mixed with his cologne, his body heat all over me.

  It feels as if I hug a friend, someone I haven't seen in a very long time–– someone dear to me. Someone I've always needed in my life.

  That thought alone makes me sad.

  As mixed emotions course through me, I close my arms around him tightly.

  “Thank you so much,” I mutter against his cheek before I give him a soft kiss on his smooth, fragrant skin.

  He breaks our hug, his eyes harboring a different smile.

  It’s no longer a cocky, secret, sly, mischievous smile. It’s a warm, sincere grin that makes my heart spin.

  He looks at me as if I offered him something that he didn’t expect. As if it was new to him.

  He looks at me, intrigued.

  As if he doesn’t understand. But, also as if he does.

  As he searches my eyes, he looks younger again and different.

  Different how?

  I have no idea.

  As if he doesn’t belong here. In this hotel room, in these clothes. In this space.

  I find that strange, and yet, enthralling.

  Slowly, he lifts my hand and kisses the smooth skin of my knuckles, our eyes still connected.

  “What about this...” he says, still holding my hand. “Meet me again sometime next week.”

  My eyebrows lift.

  “Not here. I’ll find another place.”

  I retrieve my hand, frozen.

  “I won’t be on the clock,” he mutters, smiling. “And, um... we will do, whatever you want us to do.”

  “Okay...”

  “Okay, yes?”

  I nod.

  “Yes.”

  10

  EVE

  “How was it, Eve?” Rain asks impatiently.

  I put her on speaker.

  “Tell me something magical happened
last night,” she says.

  I start to laugh.

  “Um... Yeah... It did. But it’s not what you think.”

  “Oh, please... Don’t tell me. You didn’t bail again, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Do you like him?”

  A smile tugs at my lips.

  “Mmm-hmm,” I murmur mysteriously.

  “Did you do it?”

  A chuckle rolls off my lips.

  “It, um... It was complicated.”

  “Didn’t you pay him to do it?”

  “Yes, I did, but things took a different course.”

  “Okay...” she mutters skeptically.

  Holding my phone in front of my mouth, I take a few steps away from the sofa and glance out of the window.

  It snows steadily.

  “It was good,” I say, a smile threading through my voice.

  “Good? That’s it?”

  I pin a vacant stare on the city skyline, strings of lights shining in the darkness.

  “It was great... actually.”

  “That sounds weird. You said that you didn’t do it, yet it was great. What was great? His conversation skills? I thought that it was more than that.”

  I pull away from the window.

  “No, no. It was. It was more than I had anticipated,” I say, grabbing a bowl of popcorn from the coffee table and sliding onto the couch. “He wants to meet me, but not as a client.”

  Her voice explodes with joy.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s great. So what happened last night?”

  “We talked.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And he gave me a hug and a kiss on my cheek at the end.”

  Silence rolls from the other end.

  “Rain? Are you still there?” I ask, munching on the popcorn.

  “Yes. What does he look like?” she asks, suspicion woven in her voice.

  My cheeks burn with a blush.

  “He was, um... He is hot.”

  “Hot, hot?”

  “Super hot.”

  “Okay. That’s interesting. And he said that he’d like to see you again.”

  “Yes. He asked for my phone number. But something else happened last night.”

  “Uh-huh... I’m listening.”

  “Well, things were going well, and we could've gotten a little further, although it was perhaps too early.”

  “It was not a date, Eve.”