He had to hold on to himself very tightly, freeze himself to the spot in order to fight the impulse to close the space between them and take her into his arms. Just the hint that she might be open to sharing a bed with him….#p#分页标题#e#
But he realized what a fragile thing this possible agreement was, so though he got as close to her as possible, he kept himself from actually reaching out and touching her as he answered her next few questions. He forced himself not to laugh when she asked if he was sure he could afford it.
The truth was, not only could he afford it, he would have paid twice what he was offering if she had even hinted that was what it would take—that was how desperate he was to have her.
Part of him realized how weak this was, that he, Beau Prescott, one of the best quarterbacks in the NFL was offering a woman money to be with him. Not out of convenience, but because that was the only way he could have her.
But the other part of him didn’t give a damn. If money was the only way he could get Josie and end the torment of having her so close without being able to touch her, then that was what he’d do without hesitation or conscience.
Still, he must have had some pride left because when she said she was only willing to stay until spring, he shrugged it off, and said. “Fine. I plan to be back in L.A. by then anyway. Once I get my sight back…”
“You won’t have any need of me. You’ll go back to L.A. and your groupies, and everything will be back to just the way you like it,” she concluded.
His offer was more than that of bored rich guy, but he had no intention of letting her know about his ongoing obsession with her.
“When do I—I mean, um, we—start?”
A gentleman would have given her some time to adjust to the thought of becoming his paramour. Beau was no fucking gentleman.
“Now,” he practically growled, before doing what he had been dying to do since she came back into his life a week ago. Kiss her. Kiss her like the man he was now, in order to satisfy the boy he had been back then.
JOSIE WAS COMPLETELY TAKEN ABACK BY THAT KISS. From what she’d seen in the tabloids over the years, Beau had been with countless women, all prettier and way more famous than she was. She’d expected him to be all smooth swagger, to take her back to his bed in the next room and claim the girl who had sworn she’d never work for him with cocky disdain.
But there was nothing smug about the way he kissed her; it felt more like an attack than a cashed in chip. And his beard rubbed roughly against her skin as his mouth devoured hers with something akin to desperation. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was actually attracted to her and not just looking for any warm body to share his bed.
“Josie, Josie…” he said, coming up for air, “…we need a bed.”
“A bed?” Josie repeated.
“Yeah, a bed, and since you’re always wanting to help me, I’m going to let you lead me to it.”
He stood there, waiting. Waiting, she realized, for her to make the next move, for her to lead him to the location that would seal her fate as a woman who would sleep with a man in exchange for money.
Quickly, she grabbed his hand and led him out of the bathroom and over to the bed. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, she thought to herself. It was better not to contemplate it too long, just do it.
She placed him right at the bed’s front edge and said, “You can sit down.”
“You sit down, too,” he said.
Her heart drummed in her chest as she took a seat at the far corner of the bed. But he said, “Closer.”
She moved infinitesimally closer.
“I felt the bed move a little bit. But I’m not sure you actually moved.”
“I did,” she assured him, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice.
“Now, Josie, a deal’s a deal. Don’t make me work for something I’m paying good money for.”
Guilt and shame roiled in her stomach, but nonetheless she forced herself to plop herself down right next to him. “No, I’d never want you to have to work hard for anything, Mr. Prescott,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
A shadow of a smile crossed over his face. “Now that’s the Josie I remember. Punishing you for that mouth of yours is going to be fun.”
He reached up and stroked the side of her face with a large palm, and she flinched. Just like that, her former sass disappeared. Wayne had always accused her of the same thing, telling her she deserved his punishments, because she couldn’t keep her mouth closed.
“Oh, hell, now you’re trembling,” he said.
She tried to stop, but found she couldn’t. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m trying not to.”