I feel my face heat up. “I’d be a lot happier if you weren’t. Seems we both have a better time when we hook up in bathrooms.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” he says. He sounds like he’s being dry again, and I’m confused. He rubs his hand roughly over his forehead and turns toward the door. “Never mind about getting into my car. Wait here for me. I’ll be right back.”
I’m standing, frozen in place. I didn’t know what I expected, but this isn’t it.
He’s back so fast that I jump, but he doesn’t notice. I bite the inside of my cheek as I eye the suede, fur-lined coat that will probably cover everything but my feet. He holds it out, and I just stare at him. He’s got this haunted look to him, like he’s seen something he doesn’t want to see, or heard something he doesn’t want to hear. He looks...worried. Worried and desperately unhappy.
He steps over to me, holding out the coat, and my traitorous heart aches for him.
“Your arms,” he says, a little gruff.
I hold them out, and he helps me into the coat.
“Let’s go.”
His voice is still rough, and I think about saying something sarcastic. I would, if we were doing this at a party, or dare I dream it a date, or any other social function that didn’t involve him paying me ten million dollars to have sex with him. As it is, I’m not sure how to act.
Eventually, I decide to salute him. I’m reaching all the way back to middle school for this one. “Yessir,” I say smartly, snapping my feet together.
“Damn right,” he mutters as he opens the door for me.
I step into the hall to find my posse waiting with hugs for both Hunter and me. The only Hunter hug I see, as I’m pulled into embrace after embrace, is the one between him and Loveless. She pulls him close, cradling his nape with her long fingers, and my heart bursts into jealous flames. The flames are quickly extinguished as I see her hug him tightly around the back. Hunter stiffens. It’s a barely there motion, subtle enough that I’m probably the only one who notices it.
She hugs him once more, and I see him rest his cheek on top of her head. Then I’m swept up by Juniper, who gives me a crushing hug. Loveless joins after a minute.
“Take good care of him, and yourself, too.”
I hug her hard, and then Hunter is there beside me, offering his arm. As we move toward the side door, crowded by the laughing, hooting girls, and Hunter wraps an arm around my waist, I can’t help feeling just a little like we’re bride and groom. Which is ridiculous. So silly. And feels more so as we burst through the door into a ring of guards. Hunter’s arms are around me, guiding my steps, and then he’s picking me up. I’ve got my eyes squeezed shut, but I can feel him stepping up, can feel his body under mine as we sit down; I’m in his lap.
He tucks me close, under his rock-hard arm, and leans up. “Drive,” he tells someone.
I feel the car lurch forward and hear the familiar whirring sound of the thick, plastic partition going up between the front of a limousine and the back. Seconds later, I’m staring into Hunter’s green cat eyes.
HUNTER
I’VE GONE AND done it now. Lost my goddamn mind. When Marchant started acting sketchy on the phone last night, I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but then I remembered those billboards on the way to the ranch, and how I always get a hard-on when I see that woman’s curves. I got a sick idea and when I really lit into March, he gave the old tired “I’m not going to say yes or no,” and for Marchant that’s always a “Yeah!”
Libby DeVille: virgin for sale.
I had half a mind to punch Marchant out until I realized what a hypocrite I was being. Well, until he pointed it out—that I myself pay for escorts, and what’s the difference between Libby and the other girls?
The answer: a thousand fucking things, and nothing at all. I stayed angry, and tonight, when I saw her wearing red, all that long dark hair spread across the bed, it was like a holy vision. Except we weren’t in heaven. We were in a fancy brothel, and there were two dozen other men with the same view I had—and they didn’t deserve to be there. I know I didn’t either, but this world’s imperfect, and I couldn’t stand to see her with somebody else.
So I bid on her.
I piled cash all the way to the ceiling for her, but now that I’ve won I’m wondering what the hell I’m gonna do with her. I don’t plan to make her fulfill her contract, obviously. I know, I know—I’ve had a lot of sex with escorts, but Libby isn’t an escort. If she fucks me, it’ll be because she wants to.