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Final Call (Call #2) Page 33
Author: Emma Hart

Tyler grabs my arm before I can leave the room. “You told me because you need help, and I’m guessing I’m the closest thing you have.”

I don’t reply. I don’t know if he is or not. He’s just so easy to talk to and someone who makes you want to tell him everything.

“What could possibly be so bad it would destroy Stone?”

My mouth goes dry, along with my lips, and I make a vain attempt at wetting them with my tongue. My throat constricts around the sudden lump in it, and my heart pounds so hard that it’s threatening to break free of the restraints of my chest.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know everything,” Tyler says softly.

I clench my hands into fists. My nails dig into my sweaty palms, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “Promise you won’t think any less of me.”

“My cousin, my best friend, loves you. I thought the world of you before I knew you.”

I take those words and I hold on to them with everything. I can’t believe I’m about to do this—tell him who I am. What my job is.

Am. Were. Is. Was.

I don’t know the difference now.

My eyes sting with tears. “Naomi knows the truth about who I am.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I’m a call girl.”

Chapter Fourteen

Silence lingers heavily after my words. The only faint sound is that of my heavy breathing as my chest heaves.

“An escort. A whore. A prostitute. Whatever you call it. I get paid for sex on a regular basis.”

My words seem to echo in the large living room. They bounce off the walls and ring out in my ears. I cover my face with my hands, frozen in place, the repercussions of my revelation flooding my body.

Shock. Disbelief.

Utter fear.

I expect Tyler to push me from him in disgust. To tear his hand from my arm and recoil from me. But he doesn’t. He puts his other hand on my other arm and steers me back into the room, sitting me on the sofa.

He holds up a finger and disappears into the kitchen, returning with my wine bottle and a bottle of vodka. “Thought this was needed,” he mutters, shaking the vodka bottle.

I smile weakly and watch as he pours me some wine. “Surprise, right?”

“Aaron knows?”

“How do you think we met again so coincidentally after seven years?”

“You’re the girl from Paris? Fuck. That puts a new spin on things.”

I look at him, and he’s rubbing his chin contemplatively. His eyes are narrowed, his lips pursed.

“How does it?”

“Naomi despised the girl from Paris. She knew she could never be that person. She never knew you, but you were her worst enemy. She truly believed if you never existed, Aaron would love her.”

“She loves him?”

“In her own way. I think it’s more possession than anything. She wanted him, but you always had him.” Tyler shrugs and takes a swig from his beer. “Any idea what you’re going to do?”

“I wish. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get that kind of money.”

“You’d pay her off?”

“It’s paying or losing Aaron. I can’t do that.” I hug my knees to my chest as the idea stabs through my heart.

“Tell him.”

I shake my head. “No. I still have three weeks to try and do something about it. If I haven’t by then, I’ll tell him.”

“You could just go to the police. I don’t know about you guys, but blackmail is illegal here.” He looks at me pointedly.

“That’s too easy.” I run my finger around the rim of my glass. “She’ll have guessed that would be my first move and will have some bullshit plan in place. She’s probably not even in America anymore. She’s not stupid.”

Tyler meets my eyes, and in his, I see the brutal reality of this situation. I’m f**ked. I have so many options, but none of them are possible or plausible. That doesn’t change the fact I feel a little lighter from telling him.

“Dayton, Naomi isn’t stupid, but she isn’t exactly smart either. She’s f**king with your head, and when Aaron finds out, he’s going to go apeshit. People don’t f**k with the people he cares about.”

“He said that to me once,” I whisper.

“And they especially do not f**k with you. I was there when he fired her. Believe me—they don’t f**k with you and get away with it.”

I swallow. “I’m going to bed.”

Tyler downs his beer and stands. “I’m going out. I saw Aaron’s schedule earlier. He’ll be back late. Go get some sleep, and we’ll both wake up tomorrow like this conversation never happened. Agreed?”

I nod.

“Good. Now I’m going to find some poor girl to bang this shit out of my system with.”

The front door closes with a bang, and I sink my fingers into my hair. Fucking hell. Why do I feel like I’ve just made my clusterfuck of royal f**kery worse?

***

The feeling of kisses being peppered across my shoulder draws me from my heavy sleep. Aaron’s hand sliding up my stomach, his fingers splayed, ignites a red-hot desire my body recognizes before my drowsy mind does.

I smile and roll onto my back, blinking up at his gorgeous blue eyes. “Morning.”

“Morning.” He kisses along my jaw, shifting his body closer to me. His erection presses against the side of my thigh, hard and ready, and he wraps his arm around my back. He flips me onto my side easily, his hand sliding down to my ass.

My hips are pulled into his as he touches his lips to mine. I slide my hands up his chest and wind my fingers in his hair, savoring the feel of his lazy yet deep kisses. I hook my leg over his, and Aaron guides it up over his hip. My center is fully against him now, and I can feel his rock-hard erection rubbing me through the material of our underwear.

I ping his waistband. He nips my bottom lip in response, sucking on it lightly before taking it between his teeth once again and tugging. Each tug of it evokes a tug in my lower stomach, one that reaches my clit.

“Take ‘em off,” I mutter through kisses, flicking his waistband again.

He smiles against me. “Patience.”

He unclasps my bra before I can respond and takes one of my br**sts in his hand. He rubs my nipple until it hardens beneath his touch then pulls it lightly. I gasp and grind my hips against him. Sweet Jesus. He repeats this several times before moving my bra away and sealing his lips around my nipple.

The roughness of his tongue against the tender flesh there and the hardness of his c**k rubbing my clit make me moan loudly. Aaron tastes my nipple almost aggressively, leaning me back just so he can give the other the same treatment. I arch into him, needing more of his touch.

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Emma Hart's Novels
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