And it scared the hell out of her.

She clawed at his wrist. “Stop, stop, I’m not ready.”

As he pulled away, she dug her heels into the mattress, propelling herself to the far side of the bed. She hugged a pillow to her chest to hide her nakedness. Its coolness helped to dampen her arousal, and she took deep breaths. The impending orgasm retreated.

Michael’s face was a mask of slack-jawed incomprehension as he considered her. Her cheeks burned, and shame weighed down on her chest. She had to be the worst client he’d ever had. When he lifted a hand, panic spiked and she backed up farther.

He dropped his hand. “Stella, calm down, I won’t . . . touch you. Not if you don’t want it.”

She clutched at the pillow. “I know. I’m sorry. I just . . .”

“What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing.”

His eyebrows rose in patent disbelief.

“I’ve never orgasmed with another person,” she confessed.

He parted his lips, shook his head, started to speak, shook his head again. “Does that mean you’ve never . . . at all?”

Her face burned so hot, if she had been wearing her glasses they would have fogged up. “I have. By myself.”

“You don’t like it?” he asked in bewilderment.

“No, I do.” She exhaled a tight breath and sifted through her thoughts, trying to structure a coherent explanation. “I just feel safer experiencing that alone. And I’ve had sex before—very bad sex. I spent the time watching as the men grunted and sweated and heaved over me. To be honest, it disgusted me. I wanted the sex to bring me closer to someone, but it only made me feel more distanced. I don’t want to do that to you.”

“Not even close. I was right there with you, loving it.”

She made an exasperated sound. “I’m paying you to say those things. Well, you think that’s what I’m paying for. That’s not what I want.”

“Do I look like I’m disgusted by you?” He waved a hand in the vicinity of his hips, where an impressive bulge strained at the fly of his pants.

She pursed her lips as she kept silent. If she spoke right now, chances were high she’d say The Wrong Thing. He was a seasoned escort. His body probably took commands like a show dolphin.

“You think I’m a liar.” A predatory light shone in his eyes, and he crawled over the wrinkled bedcovers toward her.

She backed up reflexively.

And fell off the bed.

As she rubbed at her head, he peered at her over the side of the mattress. “Are you okay?”

Her throat clogged with embarrassment, and all she could manage was a curt “Fine.”

He assessed her ungraceful, ground-crumpled form for a long moment. “I think we should call it a night.”

She leaned against the wall and hugged her legs to her chest. The unchecked boxes of the lesson plan weighed on her, but she needed to understand and untangle all the emotions clashing inside her head before she could move forward. “Do you mind?”

He shook his head. Without a word, he stood, pulled his shirt back on, and did the buttons. She swallowed a protest as he covered up skin and muscle she’d been too preoccupied and rattled to properly appreciate.

After he put on his shoes and shrugged into his suit jacket, she remembered something, jumped to her feet, and retrieved her tablet from her purse. “One second.” It was difficult to cue up the page while one of her arms still held the pillow to her front, but she eventually managed and handed him the tablet.

“What’s this?”

“Could you sign up for an alternate phone number, please? I think it’s a good idea to be able to contact each other during the week if we need to. For logistical reasons.” In case he wanted to cancel things. “I spoke to customer support at the agency and suggested they develop some kind of anonymous texting program, but in the meantime . . .”

A funny smile touched his lips as he considered the glowing screen. “You gave me your real number. I’m surprised you’re not expecting mine in return.”

“This is better for you, right?” Because it was definitely better for her.

Once lessons ended, neither of them wanted her calling him over and over just to listen to him hanging up on her. She couldn’t see herself acting so desperate. But she’d never been obsessed with a person before, either.

Not that she was. Yet.

His facial expression was difficult to read as he said, “It is better for me. Thank you.”

He fished his phone out from his jacket pocket and tapped through a series of screens on both gadgets. After a few moments, a vibrating sound emanated from her purse.

“Done,” he said with a smile.

“Perfect. Thanks.” She forced her lips into an answering smile.

He took a step toward the door before he paused. “We should do something new next Friday. I could take you out.”

Her heart squeezed. “Out?”

“Maybe dancing? Drinking? At a club? I hear there’s this new place in San Francisco . . .”

“I don’t dance.” And she didn’t drink. And even though she’d never been clubbing, she was certain she didn’t do that, either.

“I can teach you. It’ll help with lessons when we get to them later in the evening. Trust me.”

Trust.

This was the second time he’d told her to trust him. What would he think if she told him how difficult it was for her to do things like dancing and drinking? Going out was supposed to be fun. For her, it was work—hard work. She could interact with people if she wanted to, but it cost her. Some times more than others.

In this case, was the reward worth the price?

“How will it help with lessons?” she asked.

“You think too much. It’ll help get you out of your mind, make you relax. Also, I’m really good at dancing. We’d have fun. Are you up to it?”

She told herself it was the idea of getting out of her mind—whatever that meant—and checking boxes on the lesson plans that decided for her. But that was only a small part of it.

The biggest part was the eager sparkle in Michael’s eyes. He wanted to go, and he wanted her to go with him. It was like a date. But not, of course. She knew it wasn’t a date.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to dance.”

“Does that mean you’ll go?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

She lifted her chin and nodded.

White teeth flashed as he smiled. “Great. I’ll make plans and keep you posted. Looking forward to it.” He leaned down and pressed a fast kiss to her cheek before he left the room.

Stella bolted the door and sank onto the bed in a daze. These were supposed to be simple sex lessons. Why was it getting so complicated? Why had her body betrayed her? And why did she want to please Michael so badly she’d go clubbing for him? Who was she? She didn’t know herself anymore.

{ CHAP+ER }

9

“It’s really bad to eat dessert first, you know,” Stella commented.

She knew she sounded pedantic and boring, but she couldn’t help the nervous chatter spilling from her mouth. Her anxiety over clubbing had been escalating exponentially during the past week, and the main event was just hours away now.

Also, Michael was holding her hand.