should have told Dawson that. I’m hoping a blow job will be . . . enough.”
I can’t hold back a small smile. There’s something about Quinn’s tough façade I find incredibly vulnerable.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Relax. Let’s just have some dinner and talk. ”
“You’re not paying five hundred bucks for my conversational skills.”
I look up at the ceiling. This is like trying to seduce a cactus, her prickly points jabbing me at every turn. “That may be true, but . . . I’m not going to force myself on you.”
Her expression is skeptical. I reach for the buttons on my dress shirt cuffs and unfasten them, rolling my sleeves up slowly. I like the way she watches me, her gaze wandering over my forearms.
I can command anything. My father taught me that. Control doesn’t have to be an unpleasant experience for either party. If I want to relax Quinn and make her smile, I will.
“Sit down,” I say softly. “I’m going to make you a plate of dinner. We’re going to eat and talk. You’re not going to stab me. Okay?”
She nods, the wariness seemingly dissipating, and sinks into one of the wood chairs at my kitchen table.
“This place is amazing,” she says softly. “I’ve seen a lot of fancy houses, but none of them compare to this.”
“Thank you. I oversaw the renovation myself. It’s got an industrial style, so I think it’s just the size that makes it seem luxurious.”
I pull the roasted beef from a warming oven, slice it, and put generous portions on two plates. After adding roasted red potatoes and sautéed asparagus, I carry the plates to the table and set one in front of Quinn.
“Wow.” She looks up at me. “This looks delicious. You made this?”
I shake my head, wishing for a second that I had. “No, I’ve got someone who cooks for me.”
She looks down at the food, her eyes swimming with emotion. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on. Is she upset? She presses her lips together, and finally, I get it.
She’s hungry. The thought sends a burning sensation to my chest.
“Let’s eat,” I say, sitting down quickly.
Quinn’s utter satisfaction upon tasting the first bite of beef is something I won’t soon forget. Her expression relaxes as she chews and cuts another bite.
I’m eating, too, but all I can think about is feeding this woman. The lithe frame I find so sexy—is it a result of not having enough to eat? The thought makes me feel like a callous asshole.
“Do you like it?” I ask.
She nods. “It’s delicious. Thank you.”
I wait until she’s eaten more than half the food on her plate to interrupt her with conversation again.
“Can I ask how you found yourself on the streets?” I ask. “You don’t seem like the type to end up there.”
“Lots of decent people are homeless,” she says with a touch of defensiveness.
I’m silent as she takes a bite of potatoes, studying me. Is she sizing me up, or is she attracted to me? I can usually read people better than I’m reading her right now.
“It was just . . . circumstance,” she finally says. “I needed to get away from someone. It’s easy to be invisible on the streets here.”
“How old were you? How old are you now?”
“I was sixteen when I got here, and I’m twenty-one now.”
She cuts her asparagus carefully. “How did you get so rich? How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-eight. I capitalize companies for ownership interest and buy others outright.”
She nods as she finishes her last bite of food.
“More?” I ask, reaching for the plate.
“I’m full, but thanks.”
Her expression shifts back to nervousness, and she reaches for the wine and takes a tiny sip. I can’t help laughing at her cringe.
“Don’t like it?”
She shakes her head. “It’s not what I was expecting.”
“It’s an acquired taste.”
I clear away the dishes as she downs a few gulps of water.
“So,” she says, standing up, “I’m really curious about why you pay women to be with you.
I can’t hold back a small smile. There’s something about Quinn’s tough façade I find incredibly vulnerable.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Relax. Let’s just have some dinner and talk. ”
“You’re not paying five hundred bucks for my conversational skills.”
I look up at the ceiling. This is like trying to seduce a cactus, her prickly points jabbing me at every turn. “That may be true, but . . . I’m not going to force myself on you.”
Her expression is skeptical. I reach for the buttons on my dress shirt cuffs and unfasten them, rolling my sleeves up slowly. I like the way she watches me, her gaze wandering over my forearms.
I can command anything. My father taught me that. Control doesn’t have to be an unpleasant experience for either party. If I want to relax Quinn and make her smile, I will.
“Sit down,” I say softly. “I’m going to make you a plate of dinner. We’re going to eat and talk. You’re not going to stab me. Okay?”
She nods, the wariness seemingly dissipating, and sinks into one of the wood chairs at my kitchen table.
“This place is amazing,” she says softly. “I’ve seen a lot of fancy houses, but none of them compare to this.”
“Thank you. I oversaw the renovation myself. It’s got an industrial style, so I think it’s just the size that makes it seem luxurious.”
I pull the roasted beef from a warming oven, slice it, and put generous portions on two plates. After adding roasted red potatoes and sautéed asparagus, I carry the plates to the table and set one in front of Quinn.
“Wow.” She looks up at me. “This looks delicious. You made this?”
I shake my head, wishing for a second that I had. “No, I’ve got someone who cooks for me.”
She looks down at the food, her eyes swimming with emotion. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on. Is she upset? She presses her lips together, and finally, I get it.
She’s hungry. The thought sends a burning sensation to my chest.
“Let’s eat,” I say, sitting down quickly.
Quinn’s utter satisfaction upon tasting the first bite of beef is something I won’t soon forget. Her expression relaxes as she chews and cuts another bite.
I’m eating, too, but all I can think about is feeding this woman. The lithe frame I find so sexy—is it a result of not having enough to eat? The thought makes me feel like a callous asshole.
“Do you like it?” I ask.
She nods. “It’s delicious. Thank you.”
I wait until she’s eaten more than half the food on her plate to interrupt her with conversation again.
“Can I ask how you found yourself on the streets?” I ask. “You don’t seem like the type to end up there.”
“Lots of decent people are homeless,” she says with a touch of defensiveness.
I’m silent as she takes a bite of potatoes, studying me. Is she sizing me up, or is she attracted to me? I can usually read people better than I’m reading her right now.
“It was just . . . circumstance,” she finally says. “I needed to get away from someone. It’s easy to be invisible on the streets here.”
“How old were you? How old are you now?”
“I was sixteen when I got here, and I’m twenty-one now.”
She cuts her asparagus carefully. “How did you get so rich? How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-eight. I capitalize companies for ownership interest and buy others outright.”
She nods as she finishes her last bite of food.
“More?” I ask, reaching for the plate.
“I’m full, but thanks.”
Her expression shifts back to nervousness, and she reaches for the wine and takes a tiny sip. I can’t help laughing at her cringe.
“Don’t like it?”
She shakes her head. “It’s not what I was expecting.”
“It’s an acquired taste.”
I clear away the dishes as she downs a few gulps of water.
“So,” she says, standing up, “I’m really curious about why you pay women to be with you.
Similar Books
The Color of Ordinary Time
Virginia Voelker
Chasing the Dark
Sam Hepburn
A Step Beyond
Christopher K Anderson
Accidentally in Love
Claudia Dain
Silverhawk
Barbara Bettis
Dear Hank Williams
Kimberly Willis Holt
Duchess of Mine
Red L. Jameson
Too Sinful to Deny
Erica Ridley
Debts
Tammar Stein
The Secret Scripture
Sebastian Barry