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Late Call (Call #1) Page 36
Author: Emma Hart

“Just one. Just me.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

“Because above anything, call girls are masters at the art of pretending. We pretend every day, to other people, and occasionally to ourselves. And you, my darling, are pretending so hard you almost believe yourself.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Giselle takes my hand and leads me to the door. “Just because you’re not falling doesn’t mean you’re not in love.”

She pushes the glass door open and we sit back at the table without a word.

Every time I’m at an event like this, I look around the room and wonder how many of the guests are call girls. How many of them have been hired for the same reason as me. How many are smiling and pretending to know everything about their handsome, rich date.

Usually, I know. Usually, they’re easy to pick out.

But Giselle has caught me. Somehow she sees me for who I really am and has called me on it. Somehow…she knows and she understands.

And now I’m on edge. Apprehension is prickling at my skin, making my hair stand on end and shiver. If she can tell, how many other people are here who are call girls who can tell? How many can see right through the façade I hold each day?

Dessert dishes are cleared away, mine only picked at. Aaron turns in his seat to face me and gently cups my chin in his hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lie, wrapping my fingers around his. “Do you want another drink?”

“I’m fine.” His eyes narrow. “Dayton?”

“Give me a second.” I kiss his hand and stand. Music begins as I cross the room to the bar and take a deep breath.

No one ever knows.

What if she says something?

Fuck.

Everything could be over in a second.

“White wine please,” I tell the girl behind the bar.

“Dry, medium, or sweet?”

“Medium.”

Giselle appears at my side. “Make that two.”

I look away.

“Dayton. I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“You have.” I straighten. “Are there any others here?”

“Two. One is just starting by the way she’s been wringing her hands all night, and the other is too star-struck by her client to do anything.”

“How do you know?”

“My ex-agent is my best friend.”

I smile as two glasses are put in front of us. “Charge it to the Stone account,” I tell the bar girl. “Both.”

She nods and disappears.

“Thank you,” Giselle says. “Normally I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“About knowing or now?” I shoot her a wry smile.

“Both.” She returns it. “But I just got a grilling from the boss, so I thought I’d better come apologize.”

I glance over to the table and find Aaron’s eyes fixed on us. I laugh into my glass. “Don’t worry. I’m just not used to anyone knowing.”

She places a hand on my arm. “I didn’t tell you for some f**ked-up reason or to freak you out, I promise. I just…” She sighs. “I see how he looks at you and how you look at him. The way you told the story of how you met… Jesus. There’s so much between you it’s impossible to ignore.”

“He’s my client.” I drag my eyes from his to hers. “If I could have, I would have run ten thousand miles when I saw him again. Believe me.”

“I do.” She laughs. “I believe you completely, and I know we just met, but I’m asking you for something.”

I narrow my eyes. “What?”

“Believe,” she replies simply. “Disregard everything you’ve ever been told about your life and believe in something beautiful. Something that’s staring you in the face every time you look into that goddamn lovely pair of blue eyes.”

I chew on my lip and turn back to those eyes. “Believe in what?”

“Love. Always believe in love.”

Chapter Thirteen

“We’re going.” His husky voice breathes hot air across the back of my neck.

“It’s still early.”

“Turn around.”

I spin and rest my hands against his chest.

“Now tell me,” he whispers, bringing his face to mine. “Do I look like a give a f**k?”

“No.”

Aaron’s hand snakes around my waist. “Then let’s go.”

He leads me through the hall and we aren’t stopped once. No goodbyes, no excusing ourselves, none of the usual bullshit that comes with leaving a business dinner.

“No goodbyes?” I mutter.

He spins me into the wall of the elevator and presses his lips against mine. “I’m going to be inside you within the hour and you’re worried about saying goodbye?”

My breath catches in my throat.

“Hmm?”

“No. Not worried,” I squeak.

He takes my mouth firmly in a way that makes my body melt beneath him. I’m molten lava, hot and gooey under his touch, easy molded and teased into pure, red-hot desire.

I want this. I want this so f**king badly my body aches with the sheer pressure of it. I want—I need—his body lying over mine as he sinks his c**k deep inside me and f**ks me with the same intensity he kisses me with.

I want to remember how it feels to be desired for me.

Aaron pulls me into the suite, both our breathing heavy. “Leave it. All the client bullshit, all the money, and all the obligations. Leave it in the motherfucking elevator and tell me you want me.” His eyes sear into mine, lighting my whole body up. “Tell me you want me to f**k you so hard the only thing you’ll be able to scream by the end of the night is my name.”

Everything clenches. I can’t breathe and I can’t think and I can’t hear anything over the pounding of my blood through my body.

“Say it!” he growls, pulling me closer.

“I want you!” I whimper. “Fucking hell. I shouldn’t but I do. I want you.”

“How badly?”

“Don’t push it.”

“How f**king badly?”

“So bad that if you don’t kiss me right this f**king second I might hit you!”

His lips attack mine with a delicious desperateness I feel in every fiber of my being. The raw need I feel as his tongue sweeps mine spreads through my body and tugs at the most intimate part of me. My ni**les pebble inside my bra and my fingers work the buttons on his jacket with ease. I slide it over his shoulders.

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