Late Call (Volume 1) (16 page)

Now? I have no control. All I can control is what I wear each morning, and he can take that from me as easily as he’s taken everything else.

“Dayton.”

I walk past him. Or I try to. He grabs my hand and pulls the wine glass from it. I hit him with narrowed, angry eyes and yank my hand back.

“What?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

I take a deep breath but the bitter laugh escapes me anyway. “I’m being ridiculous? You woke up this morning and decided I should spend every second of my day being your girlfriend. Then you looked for me and dragged me from a place I was comfortable and relaxed in to bring me here, so don’t you fucking stand in front of me all righteous and tell me I’m being ridiculous.”

“Go to bed. Go to bed and sleep off however much wine you’ve consumed, and we’ll speak in the morning.”

“No, we won’t.” I shake my head. “We speak right the fuck now or the only person I’m speaking to tomorrow is the airline!”

His body goes rigid. Frozen. Still. “What?”

“Oh, you’re finally listening to me? Is that what it takes to get my feelings heard, huh? A threat to leave?”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Aren’t I? Are you going to stop me?” I spin and he grabs my waist.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he repeats through gritted teeth.

I shove his arms from me and walk backward. “Then instead of telling me what to do, you’re gonna shut the hell up and listen to me!”

“Dayton—”

“Don’t Dayton me. Don’t Dayton me, sweetheart me. Don’t fucking Bambi me!” I point at him. “For the last twelve days, I’ve done everything you’ve asked, everything that’s been expected. I’ve put up with your unreasonable demands and your requests disguised as demands and I’ve been the perfect fucking girlfriend, but I’m done. Unless you listen to me right now, I’m fucking
done
!”

He inhales slowly and runs his hand through his hair. I stare at him, my chest heaving, and wait for him to argue.

“This is because of this morning, isn’t it?” His voice is gentle. Soft. Caressing.

“It took you long enough to work it out.” I snort. “Yes, it’s about this morning. What the fuck, Aaron?”

“I…”

I raise my eyebrows.

“I hate it, Day. How you treat me like any of your clients.”

“You are my client!”

“No I’m not!” A vein in his neck bulges and he balls his hands into fist. “Fuck. Can you honestly look at me and say I’m just a fucking client to you? Go on. Do it right now. Look at me and tell me I’m just a normal client.”

“You’re just a normal client.”

“Liar! You’re lying to yourself and you’re lying to me.”

I back away. “The past is in the past. Stop bringing it up.”

“I didn’t. You did that when you walked into the hotel.”

“You
hired
me!” I fist my hands in my hair. “Jesus. What did you want me to do? Walk away?”

“I wish you had. I wish you had, but I’m so glad you didn’t.”

“How does that even make sense?” Shit! I walk forward and grab my glass, taking two big mouthfuls of wine.

“I don’t know. Nothing has ever made sense to me where you’re concerned.”

“Well join the goddamn club!” I put the glass down and lean my forehead against the wall. “Why did you say it? What you did this morning?”

He sighs heavily. “I already told you. I want you to treat me like
me
, not some asshole you don’t know in a hotel room.”

“And what about me? What if I don’t want that? What if I’m better off with you being my client?”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” I straighten and look him in the eye. I take a deep breath and fight the rollercoaster of emotions riding around my body. “You’re better off staying my client. I was better off not even coming here.”

“Don’t say that. Jesus, Day, don’t say it.”

“Goddammit, Aaron!” I smack the wall. “Are you only thinking about yourself? All this ‘do this,’ ‘do that’ bullshit. Are you only thinking about what you want?”

He says nothing.

“What about what I want, huh? What about if it’s hard enough being your girlfriend in public? What if that pretense, knowing how pure the real thing is, is too much? And you want me to do that all the time. Have you even thought about how that feels for me? Have you sat back in your expensive suit and your fancy car and considered for just one second how pretending to be your girlfriend all the time might feel? What it would do to me?”

He shakes his head slowly, letting a long breath escape through parted lips. “No. No, I haven’t.”

“Why not? Do my feelings mean that little that it doesn’t matter to you?”

“Don’t you ever fucking say that!” He storms to me and cups my face. “Don’t ever say that.”

“Then listen to me when I say I can’t!” I push his hands from my cheeks. “
I can’t.
Okay? Do you hear that? It’s not that I won’t. I can’t. Physically, mentally, emotionally, I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

His blue eyes are full of anger and pain and heat and what once was.

“I can’t fall in love with you,” I whisper. “Not again. If I have to pretend all the time, I might just do that.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes!” I find his eyes and hug myself. My voice increases in volume until I’m shouting so hard my throat hurts. “Yes! I loved you before, and walking away from you destroyed me. I nearly didn’t survive you, Aaron. You wrecked me! That summer took every part of me and wound it into something so pure and beautiful, and the day I left, a string holding it together was tugged and I unraveled. Falling in love with you and losing that was losing a part of me. I won’t do that again!” I close my eyes and swallow back the moisture in my eyes. The tears. “I won’t do it again.”

His lips touch mine. Firmly but full of honesty. “You don’t have to. You don’t ever have to walk away again.”

“I do. Call girls don’t fall in love.”

“Fuck call girls. You’re not that. Not deep down.” He curves his hand around my neck. “Look at me.”

I shake my head.

“Look at me. Please.”

The desperate tone of his voice makes my eyes open.

“You’re not that person. Not really. You’re still my Dayton. You’re still the girl I fell in love with who was addicted to vanilla coffee and awed by the Eiffel Tower and loved Bambi with an obsession so unhealthy it rivaled mine with you.”

I grab his shirt because I have to if I want to stay on my feet. “I’m not her. I can’t even remember who she was.”

“I can. I never forgot.”

“I hate vanilla coffee, the Eiffel Tower doesn’t amaze me now, and I’m not obsessed with Bambi anymore.”

“You’re still my Dayton. No matter what. You’ve always been mine.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t belong to anyone except myself.”

His lips crash into mine ferociously. I gasp at the sudden assault of his tongue between my lips, and feel all my resistance leave me for a fleeting moment. Then it’s back and I’m pushing at his shoulders, shaking my head, and he’s shaking his right along with me.

“You can’t fight everything,” he whispers. “Stop trying.”

“I’m not fighting everything. Just you.”

“I am everything, Dayton. Open your eyes and you’ll see it.”

His mouth silences me again, and this time I melt into him fully. His hand cupping my ass and the other holding my head to his means I’m pressed against him, feeling his cock harden against my lower stomach and my nipples pebble against his chest. He kisses me deeply, his tongue sweeping through my mouth possessively.

We spin and I’m lowered back to the sofa. My body sinks into the plush material, and the hand that was just on my behind creeps up and around my body. Aaron’s skin is red hot against mine, his lips even more so as they trail a path down my neck. He tugs at the belt holding my robe closed, and the soft towel falls away, exposing my body.

He draws in a sharp breath, sending bolts down to my core, his eyes focused on my hardened nipples. He lowers his head and takes one in his mouth, his tongue rough against my tender flesh. I arch into him, pushing my breast into his mouth, and he turns his attention to the other.

Every muscle in my pussy clenches at the unexpected invasion of his fingers, and I’m pretty sure I moan into his shoulder. The slow, torturous caress of his fingers inside me combined with the tugging of his mouth on my nipple is overloading me with an overwhelming sensation.

Heat swamps me and I buck my hips, pulling his fingers deeper into me. I don’t want to come. Not at all.

Not like this.

“Please,” I whisper, burying my fingers in his hair. “Please.”

He removes his shirt and pushes his pants down. I wrap my legs around his waist at the feeling of his cock resting against my wet opening.

“You just have to be you.” He sucks lightly on my bottom lip. “I don’t want the call girl Dayton or the fake girlfriend Dayton. Just be you.”

“I never wasn’t,” I whisper into his mouth.

Aaron slips inside me. He fills me so perfectly and stretches me in a way that makes my whole body ache. He moves slowly, driving his hips gently into me, rolling them with each thrust. Each movement hits me in the right spot.

Each kiss, each rock of our hips, each mingled breath, and each flick of our tongues against the other’s helps toward the building pleasure in me.

“Aaron.” His name falls from my lips after what seems like a forever of him being inside me.

He takes my mouth roughly. “I can’t. I need to come. Fuck.”

I tilt my hips up and he hits me deeper. “Harder.”

“Jesus, I…” His words are lost as he picks up speed, slamming into me. My head spins with each hit. Sweat slicks my skin and I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe for the intensity of the release tightening my body. “Oh, god.”

“Let it go.” He grazes his teeth down my neck. “Fucking hell, woman! Come now!”

He thrusts into me harder than before. I throw my head back as an orgasm swamps my body. Through the pounding in my ears, I hear Aaron yell my name as he empties himself inside me in hot spurts. My muscles clench around him as we come together, both of us riding on a crazy-intense high.

He murmurs against my neck, unintelligible words, and I let go of his back. I run my hands over the spot I was digging my nails into. I swear I had my hands in his hair minutes ago.

“Come here.”

Aaron steps out of his pants and lifts me, staying inside me as he carries me into the bedroom. I cling to him with alternate arms as he takes my robe off.

We fall back onto the bed the way we fell on the sofa, and he rolls us to the side. His arms cocoon me in warmth and comfort, and I snuggle my still-shaking body into his.

He breathes heavily, each exhale ghosting across my hair. I tangle my legs with his and kiss his chest.

“I don’t care what you say,” he whispers in a shaky voice. “To me, you’re still my Dayton. You’re still my Bambi.”

I hold him tighter and squeeze my eyes shut.

I’m afraid I always will be.

Aaron rubs his thumb in lazy circles over the inside of my wrist. There’s barely been a moment where he hasn’t been touching me this morning. Even through the night, he was there whenever I woke—his arm draped over my stomach, his legs tangled in mine, his chest gently rising and falling beneath my head.

Last night has affected him. I can see it in his eyes and feel it in the way he touches me. Since we woke, limbs entangled, he’s treated me like I’ll break if his gaze is too sharp or his touch too heavy.

Like if he does a single thing wrong, I’ll pick up my cell and call the airline.

Just like I threatened.

And I can’t deny that I would. I can’t confirm it either, though. I have no idea what I’ll do if he pulls that crap again.

He’s right. He’s not my normal client, and I’m not his normal call girl. That means if I have to treat him like someone more, then he has to do the same for me. He can’t demand of me and force me to do something I don’t want to do. It means I can fight back and argue, and it means he has to sit down and take it.

Just like a real relationship.

The only reason his bank account is still sending money to Monique’s is because it’s the only foolproof way to keep me here. I won’t run on a job, no matter what turns it’s taking.

Even if he cut the money, I’d probably stay.

Aaron Stone is my drug. Since the second I met him, he’s been a deliciously and frustratingly addictive part of my life. The highs are sky high, out-of-this-world delirious, and the lows are rock bottom, smack-back-into-reality painful. There is no middle ground—there is only one or the other. He knows no middle ground. All or nothing. That’s the way he lives, and it’s how he loves.

I chose the all before. I took the all and all the bliss and pain I knew would come with it, because back then, the highs were worth every single drop back down to Earth. It was worth it to be so happy. I flew so high I couldn’t see the ground.

Now I’m discovering the middle ground he ignores. I know the other side of the coin, and I know it so intimately I could relive that pain right here, right now.

I don’t have a choice on the highs now. He makes them happen and pushes them into my path, and he’d continue to do so no matter where I turned. But the lows…

I have a choice for them. I know I do. In reality, I have a choice for everything. I could leave and have nothing. I could leave the middle ground and go back to my tidy, controlled life in Seattle. I could climb out before I sink too deep.

I could.

The problem is that the highs are worth the inevitable lows. No matter what he says, how he tries to convince me, I know what will happen at the end of this. I know we’ll both walk away the way we did once before. We have no other choice.

Just like the first time we met, our lives are too different and so far apart that it would never be anything but a train wreck.

The car stops outside a villa-type building sitting on the edge of a private beach. Large, leafy plants surround it, bathing it in shade, and I know where I’ll be spending my day.

Beneath one of those plants.

Aaron opens his door and pulls me along the leather seat. I raise an eyebrow at him and he smirks, helping me out of the car. His fingers stay tightly linked through mine as he leads me into the property.

“You can let me go, you know. I’m not going anywhere.” I bump his arm with mine.

“Joel!” he calls, ignoring me. “Is everything ready to go?”

“Aye, boss,” he replies in a mild Scottish accent.

“Scottish?” I whisper to Aaron.

“We fly our best suited photographers to the location they’re needed. Joel is a master at getting the sultry beach shoots, so he’s here for this swimwear shoot.”

“Who’s the shoot for?”

“Marlena Luiz’s new collection. She’s used us for every single one, and for her advertising, too. She’s one of our biggest clients in South America.”

“And you couldn’t shoot this in her home country?”

“She didn’t want it done in Brazil. She requested Australia.” He looks at me, his lips curved. “And when a woman like Marlena Luiz asks for something, she gets it.”

“You’ll have to introduce me sometime,” I mutter. “I’d like to know how that works.”

“I heard that.” He brushes his lips across my temple. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to our models.”

I slip my sandals off before stepping onto the white sand. The beach is surrounded by rocks and runs straight out into crystal-clear turquoise water. This place is like a little slice of paradise—the places you see as backdrop for shoots like these and wonder if they’re real.

“Dayton, this is Reah.” He motions to a gorgeous dark-haired girl. She gives me a wan smile and Aaron turns my attention to her companion. “And this is Derrick.”

Derrick gives me a thorough once-over. Aaron’s grip on my hand tightens, and Derrick’s smile falters when he meets my eyes.

“If you were expecting me to be blushing or ready to drop my panties for you, you’ll have to do better than that.” I give him my own smile. “And for the record, staring at the boss’s girlfriend like you want to bend her over one of those rocks and do her from behind isn’t the best way to start your day.”

“Or your career.” Joel joins us. “Hana, can we get some more makeup over here? And Charlee, Reah’s hair isn’t right. They want waved, darlin’, not crimped.”

A flurry of activity descends on the models in front of us. Aaron pulls us back into the house, and his lips capture mine the second we’re out of view. He pulls the band from my hair and runs his fingers through it, undoing my braid and leaning me back slightly.

“Most other women would have stood there and waited for me to defend them.”

I grin and wipe a smudge of lipstick from his bottom lip. “I’m not most women. And I’m definitely not into having a guy who looks like he’s just reached adulthood undress me with his eyes.”

“
Most
women would be flattered by that.”

“He’d probably be able to handle
most
women.” I lift onto my tiptoes and drag his bottom lip between my teeth. “He definitely wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

“You’ve got that right.” Aaron runs his hands down my body and creeps his fingers beneath the hem of my dress. “I could do with another pair of hands to deal with you.”

I smile against his mouth and hear a cough from the doorway.

“Not to interrupt, but we’re ready to start.”

“Thank you, Joel.” Aaron smiles at him and winks at me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I reach up and wipe his lip again.

“Red isn’t your color.”

“Oh, it is. It’s my favorite color,” he says into my ear. “As long as it comes with you, that is.”

“Lips or underwear?”

“We’ll arrange both.”

I grin and ping my bra strap. “I already did.”

He drops his arm, bends back, and lifts my dress. I shriek and jump away, shoving my dress back down.

“So you did.” His eyes twinkle. “For what it’s worth, I definitely like you in red lace.”

“Well keep your like to private, please.” I swat his arm and realize this is the first time all day he hasn’t been touching me. I spin on the sand.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Being not touched.”

He grabs me and pulls me into him. “Now you’re being touched. Deal with it.”

“Be quiet. They’re trying to shoot.” I elbow him and spin so he’s holding me from behind.

Reah and Derrick look incredible together. Both of them are dark haired and toned, and they have a chemistry that’s palpable from fifty feet away. I can almost see it zinging between them, and I tilt my head to the side.

“Hey, are these guys an item?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Would it matter?”

“No. We have couples modeling for us all the time. It’s actually preferable because they’re already comfortable together.”

I nod. “I think they’re together.”

“Are you a matchmaker now?” Aaron teases.

“No.” I snort. “I just have a pair of eyes.”

“Smartass,” he mutters as Reah claps a hand to her mouth and runs up the beach to the house.

“Reah!” Joel yells. “Where are you going?”

Aaron releases me, and I follow him closer to Joel and Derrick. “What’s going on?”

“I know as much as you do, boss,” Joel replies.

We all look to Derrick and he shrugs. “No idea.”

“Do you want me to go after her?” I touch Aaron’s arm. “If she’s sick, I’ll probably be more useful than you all.”

He nods, and I turn to the house, jogging up the beach.

“Reah?” I call, walking through the luxurious building.

“Back here,” she groans, followed by the sound of retching.

I cringe and open doors until I find a bathroom. “Are you okay?” I wince at my own stupid question. She’s bent over a toilet, shaking. Of course she’s not fucking okay.

“I had seafood for dinner last night. It can’t have been cooked properly,” she answers in a hesitant voice.

“Seafood. Riiight.” My eyes find her hand clutched over her belly. “So when is this seafood due? I’d guess in about seven months.”

Her head snaps around so quickly it’d spin right round if it could. “What?” Wide brown eyes stare at me.

“Seafood. Everyone uses that as a morning sickness excuse. My friend used it on everyone until she used it on me twice in three days.” I wave my hand dismissively and perch on the bathtub. “So when are you due?”

“September,” she whispers. “I’m nine weeks.”

“Does anyone know?”

She shakes her head.

“It’s Derrick’s, isn’t it?”

“How do you…”

“Call it a hunch.” I shrug. “When are you planning on telling him?”

“I don’t know.” Reah flushes the toilet and hugs herself. “I have to go back out there.”

I grab her arm. “Honey, you have to go home and see your doctor, not go out on that beach to model in one-hundred-degree heat.”

“I need this job.” She closes her eyes.

“And I’ll make sure you still get paid for it.” I’m bluffing. I can’t make that happen. “But you need to be honest with Derrick, your agent, and Aaron. Okay?”

She nods.

“Wait here.” I sit her in the kitchen and give her a glass of water. Aaron looks up as I approach, questions in his eyes. “She’s not feeling great,” I explain, nodding toward the house for him to follow me.

“Give me a second,” he says to Derrick and Joel. “Reah. Are you okay?”

Her brown eyes flit to me and I jerk my head.

“Um. I have to see my doctor.” She looks away from him. “I can’t finish the shoot. I’m sorry.”

“Are you sick?”

Her hair flies as she shakes her head. “I’m pregnant.”

Aaron stops and looks at me. I suck on the inside of my lip and look away. “Congratulations. I’m assuming your agent doesn’t know or he would have informed us.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Jenny, call for a car for Reah and have someone make an appointment with her doctor.”

A blond girl pauses, looking between the three of us, and Reah smiles wanly. “I ate some bad seafood last night. I need to see him today.”

She scuttles off, a phone already attached to her ear.

Aaron turns back to Reah. “Next time the shoot requirements involve being directly in a heat wave, at least make us aware of the situation so we can cater for your needs. There should be a doctor here right now.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I just… I thought I’d be okay.”

Jenny enters the room and holds up five fingers.

“A car will be here in five minutes to take you to your doctor. Please take care of yourself.” He pats her hand and leads me back outside.

“Well? Where’s my model?” Joel asks.

“She has food poisoning.” The lie rolls smoothly from Aaron’s tongue. “She’s going home.”

“Great. That’s just fuckin’ great. How do I shoot a couple shoot with one half of it?”

“Can’t you call someone else in?” I ask.

“Not this late,” Aaron sighs, pacing. “It’s too short notice. If we don’t cancel, someone here will have to step in, and there’s no one who can do it.”

He stops, and both he and Joel turn to me. I know what they’re going to say before they open their mouths, and I shake my head.

“No. Oh, no. I’m not a model.” I walk backward.

“You have dark hair and an incredible body. You could stand in for her.” Aaron cups my face. “Please, sweetheart. If we have to cancel this shoot, Marlena might never use us again. She doesn’t do fuck-ups.”

“I’m not a model.” I swallow. “I don’t do pictures, Aaron. I do…you know.”

“And you are amazing at it, but now you need to put that gorgeous body to use in a different way,” he pleads quietly. “Please.”

I glance over his shoulder to Derrick. “And you’re happy for Mr. Baby Daddy over there to rub his body against mine?”

“Not at fucking all,” he answers through gritted teeth. “But we need this shoot to go perfectly so I’ll have to deal with it.”

I close my eyes. I’m not a model. I can barely stand taking a picture for my Facebook profile, let alone professional images to be plastered who the fuck knows where. But he’s asking so desperately, actually begging me…

“On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Reah still gets paid for the shoot.” I look into his eyes. “She needs the money.”