Free My Escort by Kia Carrington-Russell

toward me and kissed me on the cheek.
    I froze under his soft lips and stared at him in shock. “What was that for?” I asked, straightening my blouse uncomfortably.
    “I’m sorry I’m late, then,” he said with a smile. His eyes lingered on mine for a moment as my heart raced.
    Cassidy excused herself by calling out to a friend nearby. I cast around for something to say. The atmosphere felt thick and I needed to dispel the tension. “I don’t have your wallet here. It’s at my apartment,” I stuttered.
    “That’s okay, we can get it later then,” he said, looking around the room. His brown hair wasn’t as slicked back as it had been the night before. It had more of a messy, rough look to it. It framed his strong, muscular face more, causing my heart to melt immaturely at the sight. I wanted to slap myself, knock sense into myself so I could cool myself down. I was acting like a teenager.
                  “You’re not wearing a suit,” was all I managed.
    “When I arrived at your apartment last night you were wearing sweatpants,” he reminded me with his eyebrows raised playfully.
    “I didn’t ask you to follow me home,” I smiled, trying to gain my confidence again as others watched us.
    “So, what are you going to do about your ingenious Fake Boyfriend plan,” he teased as he leaned against the fridge.
    We were alone in the kitchen area, but he had lowered his tone, and instinctively, I had stepped closer to him. From the corner of my eye I was dimly aware of a small group of women—some models, in fact—who were whispering in excited tones whilst looking our way. I couldn’t help but feel smug when I saw that he had not even registered their existence. He was looking at me.
    “Ah... well,” I mumbled, still embarrassed by my stupidity about the situation. Debra would only ask more questions about him. “Well, I guess I am going to have to be honest.”
    “I still don’t understand why you are here when it sounds to me like your boss makes your life a living hell,” he said sympathetically.
    I had always just kept working, and yet when Damon questioned it, for some reason, so did I. “I don’t know...because I believe it will get me where I want to be. I mean it has to, and besides, it’s not like I can just leave. Anyway, I don’t think this is the place to be having such a discussion.” I glanced at the women whose eyes still lingered. I knew their attention was not on me, but still, this was the worst place possible to discuss it.
    Someone roughly pushed past me, which jarred me against Damon. I automatically put my hand against his hard chest to steady myself, whilst simultaneously trying to steady my full glass. Damon’s reflexes were just as quick, and one hand settled on my hip. My face was now centimeters from his. Almost imperceptivity, his lips parted. I was dimly aware of his pulse, which beat rhythmically beneath my fingertips. After a long, intense pause, he looked down to where my champagne had colored a small spot on his shirt a darker pink. He smiled easily, but I turned redder, realizing I had spoiled his shirt.
    “I’m so sorry,” I said, composing myself.
    He shook his head slightly to indicate that it was okay, and moved his hand to my arm. I stepped back from him slightly, but we maintained eye contact. His deep dark-brown eyes seemed to swallow me as my heart raced. His hand slid down my arm and to my wrist where he held it for a moment. I couldn’t look away from him. It was only when I looked at his hand clasped around me that he also seemed to notice his lingering touch. He pulled away with a tentative smile.
    What was that? I had been with men before, but none had ever consumed me in such away, creating a fire like no other through my whole body.
    “Let me clean that for you,” I said in a flustered tone.
    When I turned to get a cloth, I saw that Cassidy was in the kitchen. I knew then who had pushed me, and why. She had always been a bit of a