Selling Out (23 page)

He moaned again, and it was so clearly a sound of pleasure.
How could I have missed it? Maybe I had known all along. Maybe I had come here
to see this, to press my nose against the window and dream of the future.

He fisted his cock, slow and easy, and I found myself
storing that information away for a future when I would use it—this was how he
liked to be touched.

His whole body glistened, his chest and arms adorned with glimmering
droplets while swaths of steaming water ran down his back and legs. I wondered
if the water slipped between them, caressing his tender sac as a warm tongue
might do.

As I would have, if he had come to me. And yet I couldn’t be
bitter, not to watch this. Like watching a tornado, so self-contained in its
strength, so natural in its glory, and I wanted it to sweep me away. I wanted
him to let me in. I wanted so badly to know what he was thinking.

“Shelly,” came out on a breath.

At least I thought he said my name. It wafted to me on the
thick, moist air. I couldn’t be sure if it was my wishful thinking, until he
said it again. He mumbled it this time, and I imagined it was more than a
fleeting thought, that he was looking at me, speaking to me. My gaze snapped
back to his face, but his eyes were still shut. If he saw me at all, it was in
his mind. A specter with my body but none of my issues, one who didn’t freeze
up when a man stood by the bed. It was that Shelly he spoke to, that one he
wanted.

He stroked himself faster, and my body responded with heat
of its own, dampening and softening as if he were already inside me, preparing
my body so that his size and his speed wouldn’t damage me. The human body was
an amazing thing that way. The mind, not so much. As he came on the tile wall,
my body twinged, but all I could think was—not for me.

He wanted me enough to speak my name, but he’d chosen the
fantasy of me instead. Smart man. Self-disgust curdled any lingering arousal.

Returning to the plush comfort of the bed, I listened as the
shower squeaked off, as he brushed his teeth and dressed. The bathroom door
opened all the way, draping yellow light over me before he flicked it off. I
waited for his footsteps to move away, to settle into the couch in the next
room. Instead his dark silhouette remained in the doorway, leaning against the
frame, arms crossed.

Had he detected me outside the bathroom? Maybe he would
demand an apology. At length I realized he wasn’t waiting for anything. He was
merely watching me sleep—a voyeurism of his own.

I spoke into the darkness. “Hi, Luke.”

“Shelly.” He returned the greeting without hesitation,
apparently unsurprised to find me awake.

“Can’t sleep?”

“It’s the adrenaline rush. After a situation like that, it’s
not uncommon for me to stay up half the night.”

“Oh. What do you usually do on those nights?” I had meant
watching TV or reading a book but mentally kicked myself, because I had just
invited him to tell me about his sex life.

He sounded amused. “That’s a little different. I’d usually
finish out my shift, fill out paperwork. If we made an arrest, there’d be
processing and questioning. I don’t usually go straight home.”

I tried to match his light tone. “This was your first time
doing something illegal, then? How does it feel to be a criminal like me?”

His voice lowered. “It wasn’t my first time doing something
criminal.”

“Really?” I sat up a little. “Did you once run a red light?
Never say so.”

“Nah. Not without the flashers on.”

“Did you abuse your badge?” I teased. “I can see it now. You
pull her over.
Oh, Officer, I had no idea
I was going so fast
. Next thing you know, your belt is around your ankles,
and she’s out of a speeding ticket.”

“What a flattering portrayal of me,” he said drily.

“Well, I’m out of ideas. I really can’t imagine you breaking
the law at all, with the exception of…you know, punching and choking the guy
earlier. That was probably illegal.”

“Probably.”

“That was different, though. He was totally baiting you. You
had a good reason.”

“All criminals have a good reason.”

I considered that. “I don’t. I did it to get money. That’s
hardly a noble cause.”

“You had your reasons. I know you helped Allie.”

“I should be excused, then.” I nodded as if I agreed.
“Besides, I didn’t hurt anybody, so that should count for something. What do
they call that?”

“A victimless crime.”

“That’s it. Mine was a victimless crime. Except if you talk
to the lady who runs the shelter, she’d say I was the victim. Which would make
me the victim of my own crime. Isn’t that funny?”

“Fucking hilarious,” he said darkly, turning to leave.

“Wait. I don’t know why I say that stuff.”

He had stopped, facing away. “It’s how you cope, and you
don’t have to apologize for it. It’s just… It’s a touchy subject for me.”

Of course it was, because of his sister. And here I was
making a joke about it. “I’m sorry. Please stay.”

“You should get some rest.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

After a long beat, he slid into bed. He didn’t just lie next
to me. He wrapped me up in his arms, tucked my body inside his. He was wearing
jeans and nothing else, no shirt to shield me from his skin, his maleness. It
was more than I was expecting, more than I was prepared for. We were so close,
enveloped in each other, and I wasn’t cut out for genuine intimacy. It was suffocating.
The backs of my eyelids pricked. I struggled to get away.

He held me tighter. “Shh. I won’t hurt you.”

My laugh was watery. “I think I could stand that better.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “You probably could. But you can let
me hold you.”

I lay in his arms, tense. I wanted to relax, to enjoy this
like a normal person, but I couldn’t shake the old, now stale panic. I knew he
wouldn’t hurt me. It wasn’t for fear of him, but fear of the past. When I lay
in his arms without the rote mechanics of a job, the fear took over.

He spoke in a tone so certain it soothed me. “One day you’ll
be free of this. You won’t have to look over your shoulder all the time or be
scared anymore. You’ll have a place of your own. But bigger. And nicer. No
ruffles for you. You’ll have a whole life. All this will fade away into the
past.”

But I didn’t want to forget him. I didn’t want to forget the
rough timbre of his voice as he tried to imagine me, happy and whole.

“Keep going,” I begged.

He paused. “I know you think guys only want you for your
body. What else could you think, considering what you’ve been through? But it
doesn’t have to be that way. You’ll find a guy who sees what’s inside you, who
loves you for that more than anything else.”

Past the serious insights, a glint of humor touched my lips.
“Are you telling me about my life with another guy while your dick is hard
against my hip?”

“Ignore that.” I heard the smile in his voice. “Every guy
has a part of him that’s a greedy bastard. Right now that’s the only part of us
you see.”

“I can’t see it right now, but from what I can feel, it’s
very impressive.”

He snorted. “Don’t act like you prefer them larger.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t appreciate the compliment
anyway.”

His laugh confirmed my words. “You don’t need to pretend with
me. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Ah, we’re back to the fake orgasms. Do they offend you so
much?”

“They aren’t necessary. If I wanted to fuck you without
making you come, I would do it.”

The harsh language reverberated within me, but it was the
truth. He could have had me by now, for free or by the hour. He hadn’t. I
wanted to know the reason even as I was terrified to find out. Whatever my
fatal flaw was would haunt me forever after. “Why haven’t you?”

Tension rolled through him. His voice flattened. “I have a
different view of the situation than you.”

“The situation?”

“Prostitution. I don’t care if I’m paying you or if you say
you consent. You don’t want this.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m not so vain as to believe I’m the one man you actually want
to have sex with.”

“What if I told you I had watched your body with lust? That
I wanted to feel you inside me?”

“You’re under my protection right now.” His voice was
strained. “It’s in your best interest to stay in my good graces, to develop a
bond with me.”

“So now I don’t even know what I want? My desires are
invalid? Oh please, spare me from another man who tells me what to feel.”

“I’m trying to protect you. From me.” His erection loomed
thick and hard against my side, belying his words. “God, there’s a million
reasons why this is a bad idea. You’re too young. You’ve been hurt too badly
and used too much. How can you consent to me and mean it? It would be rape if I
touched you.”

I pulled back and turned to face him, incredulous. “You’re
saying I’m not even capable of consenting. I’m so far beyond broken that I
can’t even do what another woman can. Do you know how much that insults me?
When you take away my choice, it diminishes me. I don’t want to be less than
anyone else. I want to be whole.”

“Christ,” he said. “I know. I’m sorry. I know.”

His apologies were like a prayer, heartfelt but falling on
deaf ears. I pushed away, scrambling to the edge of the bed.

“Get away from me. Don’t touch me. Or am I not allowed to
say that either? I don’t even know what I want. Is that right?”

It was right, though, whether he said it or not. I was so
torn up inside, wanting him near me but fearing and loathing myself. Tears
slipped down my cheeks.

“I will leave,” he said quietly. “If you want me to go. Is
that what you want?”

“No,” I sobbed. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Even if I tell
you to, that’s not what I really want. I just can’t say it all the time. I
can’t say what I want anymore. I’m so afraid.”

He pulled me down into his arms. It hurt again, in that old
familiar pain, but I didn’t fight it this time. I let him hold me and rock me
and soothe me, until the tears dried up and my hurt faded into tiredness. I
drifted in the cradle of his arms, in and out of sleep. Slumber wasn’t a
destination but a journey, allowing my body to rest and my mind to recover.

When I woke with a soft start, he soothed me. “Shh. I’m
here.”

“Luke?” Sleep weighted my voice.

“That’s right. Go back to sleep.”

“Have you been awake all this time?”

“I told you. I usually stay awake after a rush like that.
I’m fine, though. You should rest.”

“I want to stay up with you. To keep you company.” I
struggled awake. My mind felt like it was underwater. I stretched a little and
felt him tense beside me.

“Hold still,” he said tautly.

As awareness seeped into me, I recognized the sexual tension
that he held at bay. It was more than passing arousal. Gentle tremors betrayed
his restraint.

“Let me help you,” I whispered. “I want to.” At his
hesitation, I said, “Don’t turn me away.”

He groaned. “God help me, I don’t think I can.”

When he rolled over me, it wasn’t with a savage lust. He
touched me with infinite care, his hands on the most innocuous parts of me—the
bare skin of my waist, the curve of my shoulder. If it weren’t for the hard
brand of his cock against my leg or the gentle thrusts he seemed unable to
control, I wouldn’t have known his urgency. But he held it in check, preferring
to explore my skin with the gradual caresses of a reverent lover.

Heat flared through me, urging me onward, faster, oh God,
more—I needed so much more. More pressure, more of Luke.

“Do you want…?” I caught myself.

“Want what?” he panted.

“Nothing.”

But he wouldn’t let me forget. Finally I muttered, “To kiss.
It’s okay if you don’t.”

A shudder ran through him at my words. “You’re going to kill
me, I swear it,” he said and then kissed me.

Warm. His lips, his hands, the tenderness he showed me. All
of it filled me with warmth, from heart-full comfort to simmering sexual
awareness. The brush of his bristled jaw sent sparks along my skin. His tongue
pressed to mine, and I gasped into his mouth, breathing in his air, his scent,
the care he imbued in every touch.

He slid his hand beneath my shirt, slowly, slowly, giving me
plenty of time to stop him, while I counted the seconds until he finally
touched me there. The feel of his hand cupping my breast sent a shock through
me. A whimper reached my ears—it was me. I felt drugged, by him, by giving
myself over with no business and no force. This was what I had demanded from
him, the right to choose this, and now that I had it, the heady taste of him
threatened to overwhelm me. I had wanted the power, but this felt like
surrender.

In a brief show of impatience, he tugged my shirt over my
head, tossing it away. I was unraveling here, coming apart at the seams, and
who knew what would be revealed underneath. It didn’t matter, not when he put
his mouth to my breast, closed his lips over my nipple, and flicked it with the
soft wetness of his tongue.

He kissed my breasts with reverence, and a few seconds of
false worship had my hips lifting up to him. Restless, I moved my legs,
allowing him to fall between me, his hardness nudging against the fabric of the
boxers I wore. He pulled back, though not enough to tear our clothes off and
complete the act. No, he settled himself above me, content to touch and lick
and tease. He was teasing me, I realized through my haze. Pulling back when I
reached for him, stoking the fires so that I wanted more and more, helpless in
his thrall until he decided to grant me release. I knew this trick. I had
performed it so often from the other side.

“Don’t,” I murmured.

He paused, panting, then rested his forehead beneath my
breasts. “Do you need me to stop?”