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Late Call (Call #1) Page 43
Author: Emma Hart

“I don’t care what you say,” he whispers in a shaky voice. “To me, you’re still my Dayton. You’re still my Bambi.”

I hold him tighter and squeeze my eyes shut.

I’m afraid I always will be.

Chapter Fifteen

Aaron rubs his thumb in lazy circles over the inside of my wrist. There’s barely been a moment where he hasn’t been touching me this morning. Even through the night, he was there whenever I woke—his arm draped over my stomach, his legs tangled in mine, his chest gently rising and falling beneath my head.

Last night has affected him. I can see it in his eyes and feel it in the way he touches me. Since we woke, limbs entangled, he’s treated me like I’ll break if his gaze is too sharp or his touch too heavy.

Like if he does a single thing wrong, I’ll pick up my cell and call the airline.

Just like I threatened.

And I can’t deny that I would. I can’t confirm it either, though. I have no idea what I’ll do if he pulls that crap again.

He’s right. He’s not my normal client, and I’m not his normal call girl. That means if I have to treat him like someone more, then he has to do the same for me. He can’t demand of me and force me to do something I don’t want to do. It means I can fight back and argue, and it means he has to sit down and take it.

Just like a real relationship.

The only reason his bank account is still sending money to Monique’s is because it’s the only foolproof way to keep me here. I won’t run on a job, no matter what turns it’s taking.

Even if he cut the money, I’d probably stay.

Aaron Stone is my drug. Since the second I met him, he’s been a deliciously and frustratingly addictive part of my life. The highs are sky high, out-of-this-world delirious, and the lows are rock bottom, smack-back-into-reality painful. There is no middle ground—there is only one or the other. He knows no middle ground. All or nothing. That’s the way he lives, and it’s how he loves.

I chose the all before. I took the all and all the bliss and pain I knew would come with it, because back then, the highs were worth every single drop back down to Earth. It was worth it to be so happy. I flew so high I couldn’t see the ground.

Now I’m discovering the middle ground he ignores. I know the other side of the coin, and I know it so intimately I could relive that pain right here, right now.

I don’t have a choice on the highs now. He makes them happen and pushes them into my path, and he’d continue to do so no matter where I turned. But the lows…

I have a choice for them. I know I do. In reality, I have a choice for everything. I could leave and have nothing. I could leave the middle ground and go back to my tidy, controlled life in Seattle. I could climb out before I sink too deep.

I could.

The problem is that the highs are worth the inevitable lows. No matter what he says, how he tries to convince me, I know what will happen at the end of this. I know we’ll both walk away the way we did once before. We have no other choice.

Just like the first time we met, our lives are too different and so far apart that it would never be anything but a train wreck.

The car stops outside a villa-type building sitting on the edge of a private beach. Large, leafy plants surround it, bathing it in shade, and I know where I’ll be spending my day.

Beneath one of those plants.

Aaron opens his door and pulls me along the leather seat. I raise an eyebrow at him and he smirks, helping me out of the car. His fingers stay tightly linked through mine as he leads me into the property.

“You can let me go, you know. I’m not going anywhere.” I bump his arm with mine.

“Joel!” he calls, ignoring me. “Is everything ready to go?”

“Aye, boss,” he replies in a mild Scottish accent.

“Scottish?” I whisper to Aaron.

“We fly our best suited photographers to the location they’re needed. Joel is a master at getting the sultry beach shoots, so he’s here for this swimwear shoot.”

“Who’s the shoot for?”

“Marlena Luiz’s new collection. She’s used us for every single one, and for her advertising, too. She’s one of our biggest clients in South America.”

“And you couldn’t shoot this in her home country?”

“She didn’t want it done in Brazil. She requested Australia.” He looks at me, his lips curved. “And when a woman like Marlena Luiz asks for something, she gets it.”

“You’ll have to introduce me sometime,” I mutter. “I’d like to know how that works.”

“I heard that.” He brushes his lips across my temple. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to our models.”

I slip my sandals off before stepping onto the white sand. The beach is surrounded by rocks and runs straight out into crystal-clear turquoise water. This place is like a little slice of paradise—the places you see as backdrop for shoots like these and wonder if they’re real.

“Dayton, this is Reah.” He motions to a gorgeous dark-haired girl. She gives me a wan smile and Aaron turns my attention to her companion. “And this is Derrick.”

Derrick gives me a thorough once-over. Aaron’s grip on my hand tightens, and Derrick’s smile falters when he meets my eyes.

“If you were expecting me to be blushing or ready to drop my panties for you, you’ll have to do better than that.” I give him my own smile. “And for the record, staring at the boss’s girlfriend like you want to bend her over one of those rocks and do her from behind isn’t the best way to start your day.”

“Or your career.” Joel joins us. “Hana, can we get some more makeup over here? And Charlee, Reah’s hair isn’t right. They want waved, darlin’, not crimped.”

A flurry of activity descends on the models in front of us. Aaron pulls us back into the house, and his lips capture mine the second we’re out of view. He pulls the band from my hair and runs his fingers through it, undoing my braid and leaning me back slightly.

“Most other women would have stood there and waited for me to defend them.”

I grin and wipe a smudge of lipstick from his bottom lip. “I’m not most women. And I’m definitely not into having a guy who looks like he’s just reached adulthood undress me with his eyes.”

“Most women would be flattered by that.”

“He’d probably be able to handle most women.” I lift onto my tiptoes and drag his bottom lip between my teeth. “He definitely wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

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