Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
I’d thought of sex with Jett Davis many times in the months since I’d seen him last. Getting hard for him twice now had made me question my sexuality, but in almost a year of looking for any sign of any attraction to other men, I hadn’t found it. At least not enough to want to act on it.
It was just him.
Just this stripper—pardon me, dancer—and paid escort.
Which meant it wasn’t his maleness that intrigued me. It was something else.
Hell, maybe it was the fact that he challenged me. Most of the women I’d ever been with did whatever they thought I wanted. Jett should have done whatever I wanted, but instead gave me attitude—and that teasing, smirky smile—at every turn.
Jett lifted an eyebrow at me. “Are you saying I stink?”
I glanced at the sofa, which was definitely not large or comfortable enough to give him the rest he needed. The man needed to sleep in a bed, and mine was plenty large enough for the two of us.
“I’m saying I don’t want to share a bed with someone who could still be covered in another man’s jizz,” I snapped. “Get in the fucking shower.”
He snickered as he headed back to the bedroom. Within moments, the clear sound of the shower spray turning on indicated he hadn’t closed the bathroom door.
My curiosity got the best of me, and I wandered into the bedroom to catch a glimpse of him.
He was softly singing the lyrics to what sounded like a German pop song under his breath as steam billowed out of the glass cubicle. His eyes were closed and face tilted to the ceiling as the water cascaded down his hair and onto his back. The rounded shape of his ass drew my attention, but then again, all of him was like a magnet for my eyes, including the cock hanging from a thatch of dark pubic hair, moving a little against his thigh as he swayed to the tune.
As my eyes roamed and he turned to put his face in the spray, I noticed bruises along his sides and back in various shades of yellow, brown, and purple.
What the fuck kind of danger was he putting himself in? Accepting money for sex made people vulnerable to abuse. Had his sugar daddy put hands on him? Or had something happened while he was practically homeless here in Amsterdam?
I knew if I asked him about it, he’d likely leave, so I kept my mouth shut. But the anger in my gut ratcheted up several notches. When I found the asshole responsible for this, I would rip his life into tiny pieces.
I forced myself to move away and stop staring at him like a creep. Jett had been badly used. I refused to be another person who took from him, even if all I was taking was a glimpse of his gorgeous body.
I moved around the room, pulling off my clothes and changing into a pair of sleep shorts. I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge in the main room of the suite and put one on each nightstand. When Jett was finally out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, I joined him in the bathroom to brush my teeth.
“There’s an extra set of everything there if you need it,” I said, gesturing to the toiletry kit I’d requested be sent up with the food. There was no telling what was in his ratty backpack.
He thanked me softly and reached for the kit, yanking out the toothbrush and toothpaste before attacking his teeth like he was trying to rid himself of mouth demons.
“Onion soup,” he garbled when he caught me staring at him in the mirror. “Thank me later.”
I thought back to the kiss he’d planted on me in the bar. Wholly unexpected and raw. Desperate.
All-consuming.
I’d never kissed a man before, so I’d been caught completely off guard. And then I’d been surprised to… not hate it.
Fine, I’d liked it. Very much.
But maybe that was simply the passion he’d put into it. It was hard not to respond to that kind of energy.
It didn’t matter, though. I shouldn’t have kissed him back. And I definitely shouldn’t have been thinking of all the other things I wanted to do to him.
I was dating someone. Two months ago, my grandfather had insisted on setting me up with the very beautiful Kalliope Andros. To my surprise, we’d been compatible—meaning she was as insatiable in bed as I was and remarkably unsentimental, a rare combination.
I hadn’t promised Kalliope exclusivity—that wasn’t something I did, ever. But I knew after two months of seeing each other fairly regularly, she’d consider it a betrayal if I had sex with someone else. Unlike my wastrel father, I was capable of controlling my urges so I didn’t fuck up a good thing…