Free Cravings by Liz Everly Page B

to him, snapping his attention back. “I’ve never really talked about my clients the way I’ve heard some sex workers do. It’s not that I loved any of them, or even respected them. But I just feel a sense of compassion, I suppose.”
    â€œYou mean you won’t tell me what kind of things you did to them?” Sanj said, grinning.
    She laughed. Did he really want to know? “Of course I will, if you want. But we have plenty of time.”
    â€œBut what about you? No relationships? Just work?” Sanj asked, setting down his glass.
    â€œI met Snake when I was seventeen,” she said. “He was successful and wanted to take care of me. I didn’t know what it would cost me. In fact, I was so oblivious that I didn’t realize it, until I met and fell in love with Paul.” She choked back a sob.
    God, don’t cry sitting here across the table from the first man in years that’s made you feel anything. Get it together, Sasha.
    To fight the tears, she thought about something unpleasant—one of her ex-clients. An Arab oil man who wanted to be tied to a post while she entered him with a dildo strapped on. Oh, she hated that.
    But he was so grateful.
    â€œSasha, you okay?” Sanj asked.
    â€œHmm? Oh yes, I’m fine,” she said. “Good cake.”
    â€œYou want?” Sanj held his fork up to her. She opened her mouth in an awkward attempt to eat a bite too big, and a bit of the cake and a dollop of the icing fell to her cleavage. She giggled.
    Sanj drew in a breath. “Don’t—” he said as she started to wipe it off. “Let me,” he said as he slid his chair next to hers.
    â€œChocolate on your breast,” he muttered, with his eyes meeting hers with intensity.
    The next thing she knew, he placed himself between her breasts, licking and eating chocolate off her so tenderly it made her squirm. When he finished, he stood. Held his hand out to her.
    â€œTo bed with you,” he said. “With us. At last, Sasha.”
    She fell into his arms. His lithe, muscular, firm body pressed against her. She felt his erection poking at her. Again? My, my. “Sanj,” she whispered, breathing in his scent, and then kissed him, feeling herself opening blissfully to the possibilities of the night. Yes, this night only. Only one night at a time.
    What was that bloody knocking at the door?
    Sanj pulled away from her. “It must be room service. I told them not to bother us.”
    He wrapped his belt around his terry robe and strode to the door.
    Sasha stood and watched him walk. She was afraid to move. If she moved, maybe everything would change. Maybe she’d wake up from whatever kind of dream this was. Where a man had just heard her story—or part of it—and was still interested. A man like Sanj.
    â€œWell, it’s about fucking time you opened the door!” a woman yelled into the room. “What have you been doing? Sleeping? When Maeve and Jackson are—”
    The woman turned from Sanj and looked at Sasha.
    â€œOh great, our friends are in danger and you are getting laid. Sweet, Sanj, real sweet,” the woman said.
    â€œJennifer, calm down,” Sanj said. “Please. Come in and have a seat. I’ll get you a drink.”
    Jennifer? Wasn’t she the woman from the phone? Sasha noted her red face. But she was definitely trying to hold it together.
    â€œI don’t want to calm down, Sanj. I want to know what’s going on. I want to know where Maeve is and why you’ve not found her,” she said. “And who the fuck is she? Didn’t take you long, did it?”
    Sasha’s heart lurched into her mouth. Who was this woman? What claim did she have to Sanj? To Maeve?
    â€œListen,” Sanj said. “We’ve not seen each other in months. You come marching in here . . . how did you get in here, anyway?”
    She held up her left hand. “I showed them my engagement