Free Damaged Goods by Lauren Gallagher

Did he enjoy it? Was it all just business to him? Was he numb to it
    after doing it for money for so long? Did he spend the whole time wondering if he"d
    left the stove on or if he"d taken last night"s DVDs back to the video store?
    I wanted to pick his brain. Ask a million questions. Find out how he actually
    felt about his job, what he was like when he was off the clock. That was one request
    he probably wouldn"t fulfill. Role-play, sex, conversation, fine. Personal questions
    about the man behind the sex and satisfaction? Probably not.
    Could be worth a try, though.
    After we"d both straightened our disheveled clothes and hair, I said, “So, I"m
    curious. If I wanted to book you as an actual escort, how much does that run?”
    He leaned against my desk. “Don"t quote me on it, but I believe the agency"s
    rate is three to five hundred a night depending on how long you"d want me to be
    there.”
    “I may have to give them a call, then.” I paused. “What exactly does that
    entail?”
    “Same as any session. You"re paying for my time and company.” His grin
    weakened my knees all over again. “Anything you want to do with that time and
    company is up to you.”
    “Maybe I"ll have to set that up, then,” I said. “You don"t mind me requesting
    you by name, do you?”
    He laughed. “Hardly.”
    Of course he doesn’t, idiot. Every time you ask for him, his wallet gets thicker.
    “Well, anyway,” I said. “I should let you go. And I should get back to my real
    clients.”
    “Right, of course.”

    Damaged Goods

    39

    I smiled. “And thank you. I needed this today.”
    “At your service.” He put a hand on my waist, and I rested my hands on his
    chest. His kiss was gentle but anything but quick. We both held on for a long, long
    moment, lazily exploring each other"s mouths. The hand on my hip became an arm
    around my waist. My hands moved up his chest and snaked around the back of his
    neck. He touched my face, sending a tremor right through me. It had been ages
    since someone had kissed me like this. Tender, unhurried, like neither of us had
    anywhere to be or any reason not to just melt into each other. The kind of kiss that
    didn"t say good-bye and didn"t quite mesh with the conclusion of a business
    transaction.
    As gently as we"d come together, we separated. Our faces just inches apart, we
    looked at each other, and for a few seconds, I forgot who we were and why he was
    here.
    Then we both stiffened. Our eyes widened and we both stepped back. I moved
    too quickly and wobbled on my unusually high heels, but Sabian caught my arm. He
    kept a gentle grasp until my legs were beneath me.
    “You okay?” he asked.
    “Yeah, yeah, I"m fine.” I brushed a strand of hair out of my face and laughed.
    “Not used to these shoes.”
    He glanced down at them. “I don"t know how you girls don"t bust your ankles
    wearing those things.”
    “You"re telling me.” I glared at my shoes, then shrugged, thankful for
    something to think about besides the way he"d just kissed me. “Some girls know
    how to dance in the damned things. I"m lucky I can walk.”
    “Well, awkward to walk in or not, they are sexy.”
    “Thank you.”
    He smiled. “You"re welcome.” Our eyes met again. He swallowed hard. I
    chewed the inside of my cheek.
    Then he cleared his throat. “I, um, I should get out of here so you can get back
    to work.”
    “Right. I guess you should get back to work too.”
    “Of course.” He kissed me again, this time keeping it quick and to the point.
    Without speaking, we left my office and went back out into the lobby. I
    suppressed a grin when Laura conspicuously checked out his ass on his way past
    her desk, and I almost laughed aloud when two of the other girls stopped to not so
    subtly gawk. If they only knew.
    Sabian stopped by the door and faced me.
    He extended his hand. “It was a pleasure doing business, Ms. Rhodes.”
    “Oh, believe me, Mr. Hendricks,” I said as I shook his hand, “the