He’s back?Butterflies somersault in my stomach. I’m going to give him his money back—I still have it in my purse. I head over to my bag, pull the money out, and slide it into my bra before walking down the back corridor to his room. I suck in a deep breath as I stand outside the door, not sure why the hell I’m so nervous. He’s just a guest like a million and one other guests you have seen over the years. He is a job, nothing more. Doesn’t matter that he looks like a Greek fucking god with a magical dick. There have been many handsome men come through the club and many with equally magical dicks too.
So why am I freaking out about this one?
I peek through the window and see he’s back to pacing again. Tonight, he’s dressed in jeans and a white button-down shirt, his sandy blond hair is flopping in front of his face, and he keeps raking his fingers through it to get the strands to stay, but they don’t.
It’s cute.
No, it’s not, Elle.
Shut up, brain.
My hand turns the door handle, and I step into his room with a sense of déjà vu as he looks up at me nervously, just like he did the last time I was here a couple of weeks ago.
“Elle,” he says my name on a raspy growl, and it instantly sends shockwaves through my body.
“Mr. King, it is nice to see you again,” I say.
Keep it professional, Elle.
Keep those walls up around you in place, no matter what.
“I didn’t know if you would see me again after the other day,” he confesses, and his face looks pained over the thought.
Crack.That’s the sound of my wall breaking down, and one brick has now fallen to the ground. This wall is there for a reason, but upon seeing his pain … Fuck. I can’t keep up the pretense.
“Here,” I say out of nowhere, pulling the money from my bra and handing it back to him. “That was too much.”
“It’s the least I could do for causing you distress,” he tells me.
“I’m not a prostitute,” I say angrily, not sure why I’m getting upset over the money.
“I never insinuated you were,” he replies while ignoring my hand, which is waving the bills in front of his face.
“Take it, p-please,” I say as my voice cracks.
“Why?” he asks.
“I could lose my job over it. That’s why.”
Mr. King’s eyes widen, and he reluctantly reaches out and takes the money from my hand and puts it in his back pocket.
“I think it might be best if I send someone else in here to look after you tonight.”
“No.”
“No?” I repeat his answer.
“That’s what I said,” he states categorically.
“This isn’t going to work,” I tell him and turn on my heels.
I don’t get far until he’s grabbing me and pushing me up against the wall. The sudden movement has my heart racing and my adrenaline pumping.
“I’m sorry about the other day, Elle,” he says, running his nose along my neck. “I forgot myself for the moment. I thought I was doing the right thing, and I see now that I messed it all up. I don’t want to mess things up,” he confesses, and stupidly my stomach flip-flops over his words.
“Outside of these walls, we can only ever be strangers,” I tell him.
“I get that now. It won’t happen again. I promise,” he says, staring down at me. Those hazel eyes drop to my lips before they move back up to my face. “I don’t want to put your livelihood in jeopardy. I was shocked to see you at my local.”