10.

How do I begin telling him that I have no experience whatsoever on this? Wasn't it just slapping two bodies together? Nothing more. I can't remember feeling anything besides the slap of skin, or how uncomfortable the whole act had been in the two scenarios I've done this. I can't remember feeling anything, which made me wonder if it was because I was terribly bad at it. But one thing was for sure though, I certainly did not enjoy the act.

Not even a bit.

However, I was not about to tell him that, so I swallowed, look him dead in the eyes and answered. "Why don't you surprise me? After all, this is your job not mine."

His face closed off even more before it eased, then his lips curved with a slow, crooked grin, showing off perfect white teeth, as a dangerous glint flickered in his eyes.

Shit.

"Well, let's have it then.”

There was a promise in there. A deep rooted kinda promise that shook my entirety. But then, who calls a person Kitten?

Just what have I gotten myself into?

Then before I could say anything, he was on top of me, his frame leaning over my petite form, but not enough to press me down, just enough for his breath to hit harder, and for his scent, which I still couldn't place what it was taking over me. Completely.

I let my eyes wander down his throat, towards the curve of where the tattoo started on his neck, to the swirls of the black ink against his deep brown skin sliding down his chest, his torso, and disappearing into the hilt of his trousers.

The dangerous pull returned, and all I could feel, all I could think about was touching him. Touching his tattoo. But he wasn't touching me yet, instead, he braced his hands on either side of the couch and simply stared down at me, those eyes raking over me. Intense and somewhat, dangerous.

Then suddenly, he caught my hand in his and pressed it to his skin. An electric jolt shot from my fingertips straight to my heart. He looked so perfect, like carved stone, but his skin was smooth and hot, firm but giving, alive.

"You looked like you wanted to touch me," he murmured. "You can touch me," he added, "anywhere."

An invitation. An opening for control. Even as the invitation thrilled me, it gave me a pause.

Touching was such a private thing. I don't understand how he was able to do it so well with people he didn't know. I don't understand how anyone is ever comfortable touching others. Especially sexually.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" I found myself asking. Because the idea of touching him when he doesn't want to be touched does not sit well with me.

That crooked grin returned in full force. "I like being touched. And I'm here for you like you said. If touching me is what you want, then do it."

I didn't like the sound of that, or the way his eyes glazed before whatever it was vanished. I didn't like any of it. But if that is the game he wants to play, then that's fine.

But when I continued to hesitate, he gathered my hair to one side and brushed a fleeting kiss behind my ear.

It happened so quickly that by the time my body tensed up he'd already pulled away. When he didn't move to repeat the caress, my muscles relaxed once again. The place where he'd kissed me burned with awareness.

“Want to start with a kiss?”

"On the mouth?" I asked stupidly.

The corner of said mouth kicked up. "Wherever you want to. This isn't your first time kissing, right?"

"Of course not," I bristled, my cheeks heating up. I really really don't want to be kissed. Instead of saying that, I found myself saying, "maybe I should brush my teeth. I can do that right..."

He pressed a thumb to my lips, silencing me, but his eyes were gentle. That touch, too, was gone before it fully registered in my brain.

"I will do the kissing..."

"No! Wait!" I put a hand between us, pushing him just a bit so I could sit up properly. I can't do this. Not kissing. Not smacking of tongues. Not anymore.

"I have a few rules," I said. "First, I do not entertain the idea of lips smacking and tongue sucking. The idea of exchanging saliva with someone just doesn't seem right or healthy to me, so, I'd like to avoid the whole kissing part."

He stared at me for a moment, the smug grin returning in an instant. I wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face by slapping him hard, but that would automatically show just how much I cared, and I wouldn't be giving him that pleasure.

"That's fine by me," he finally said. "I don't go around shoving my tongue into every woman's mouth."

"But you shove yourself into everyone you find?" I asked, sounding a bit more bitter than I intended to.

Another crooked smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Dammit! Why did I show that anger? That bitterness?

"Only those willing to let me in. Like you," he answered.

I was seeing red. Everywhere. From each angle. From each side. The unblinding rage coursing through me was so demanding, so gripping that for a moment, I wanted to slap him hard.

But I didn't. I simply clenched my fists on the sides and snarled at him.

"Get off me," I said quietly, so quietly that at first, I thought the voice didn't belong to me.

He didn't argue. He slid off the couch and off me, but before he could move back an inch, I was standing up and had my arms wrapped around his neck. "No kissing," I hissed.

He stared at me for a moment, and for the briefest blink, I thought I saw a flash of something in his eyes before it completely vanished.

"Kitten..." he drawled, his mouth leaving my neck and trailing down to my throat as he slowly began to continue zipping down my gown.

"Time for you to scream, Kitten."

And screaming I did. As embarrassing as it sounds. As stupid as I had made myself look, I screamed, because there was nothing left to explain what Mav was doing to my body.

I laid there, breathing hard, willing for my heart to calm down. For my senses to return. We stayed that way for a while before he moved.

I watched as he stood up, walked into the bathroom. I heard the sound of the shower, and something sank in my chest.

With a slow degree of awareness, my senses returned to me. My sweaty body. What I had just done. And with whom. I was finally thinking. Until I remembered this was nothing but…an activity. Until I remembered this meant nothing to him. That this was just intimacy. This was just something I had paid for.

Emotion clogged my throat. He was in there washing off whatever it was we shared. Every single shard of it. Would I ever feel what it's like to be...wanted? For real?

He strolled into the living room lazily, water trickling down his body as he buttoned his black shirt.

"Should I expect a 5 star review from my mate as well?" He drawled, stopping before me.

Something clutched my throat again, a firm grip that twisted my knots. I shouldn't be surprised. Shouldn't even be bothered by this, because this was all it had been.

An intimacy between an escort and his client. What was I expecting? That he acknowledges the bond now?

"I'll see to it that you get a 3. It wasn't what I had expected if I may say," I heard myself say, the lie slipping off my tongue easily.

He clicked his tongue. "Even with the way you kept screaming?”

I flushed in embarrassment. But I won't show it. I won't. So, I counted to 7, gripping my gown that now laid over my naked body, and twirled my ring. "You said you'd make me scream. I just didn't want to embarrass you. I'll see to it that you get your 3 star review, Maverick. You can leave now."

He stared at me for a moment then smiled, a slow grin that looked too innocent. Too simple.

"It is obvious I exceeded what you paid for, Kitten. That much is obvious. And we both know a 3 star is a lie, because I did more than you bargained for. I do this for a job, and I know how a satisfied woman reacts. And you are one. I'll take my leave now, but think twice before you book an escort next time. You might not be so lucky to get me. Have a goodnight rest, Kitten."

It took me seconds, no, minutes for his words to register in. For a reaction to evoke from me. And by the time I threw a curse at the door, Mav was already gone.

And I was left all alone, with nothing but self loathing over what I had done.