Men For Hire Read Online Free Page B

“What do you think?”
    That she was too hung up on her appearance. He slipped his arm around Bree’s waist and swatted her arse playfully. “I like how you look. You should too. Want to fight about that?”
    She got all soft and feminine again, running her fingertips down his Adam’s apple and over his collarbone.
    Tingles of pleasure raced through him, relaxing and arousing David in equal measure. He forced down a swallow.
    “No, I don’t want to fight about that.” She hesitated then asked, “Really? You like my figure?”
    “You already know that I do or you wouldn’t have asked.”
    She tried to frown, but her smile kept her from it. “To be honest, I like every kind of pizza there is.”
    “Sweets too?”
    “As long as they’re chocolate.”
    “How about red wine?”
    “The bottles in my cabinet prove that I do.”
    “Then it’s settled. Be back as quickly as I can.”
     
    With that, he was out the door and Bree couldn’t stop smiling.
    They’d had a good time this afternoon. He’d made her feel desired, talented, and genuinely attractive despite her flaws that she made sure to point out. Hadn’t fazed him in the least, while his acceptance of her—just as she was—had done more than all the empty compliments in the world.
    If he kept that up tonight, their evening would be monumental.
    With no time to spare, she threw her locks then showered and groomed herself better than she had in months, wishing she’d had time for a manicure and pedicure.
    Next time.
    Bree stopped scrubbing her hair dry with that unexpected thought. Would there be another date—if that’s what this was—or was this evening the sum total of their time together?
    Not wanting to dwell on anything negative, she worked on her hair and face then troubled over what to put on, finally settling on a black halter dress she’d bought last summer and had yet to wear. After pairing it with strappy high-heel sandals and dousing herself with perfume, Bree hoped David hadn’t been kidding about the pizza. If he actually planned to take her to a snooty restaurant, her dress would look ridiculous. He’d gone to Cambridge after all and was rich enough to have quit work in his early thirties so he could follow his dream.
    Troubling over that, Bree went through her closet again, trying to find a more suitable outfit that would work equally well with pizza and foie gras. Sure.
    As luck would have it, a rap on the door—his rap, surely—stopped her. For the second time today, she didn’t have a chance to change. She rushed away from the closet and called out, “Give me a sec to get the locks.”
    “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere, luv.”
    God, she adored it when he called her that.
    Grinning like a fool, Bree threw the devices and opened the door.
    David held a large electric fan in his left hand, had a white paper bag shoved beneath that arm, and was balancing a pizza box on his right palm. He’d dressed in a gray tee, along with fresh jeans and smelled incredible, even better than the food, wonderfully clean with a hint of musk.
    However, he wasn’t perfect, having shaved. Dammit, she liked bristles. Bree hid her disappointment with a smoldering smile.
    David gave her a roguish one in return, his attention whizzing over her. “Look at you.”
    He certainly was, lingering on her boobs, especially the cleavage her dress emphasized. “You already are.”
    His grin broadened at her playfulness, the confidence he’d given her. “You look good enough to eat.”
    Now, he was talking. “I thought we weren’t doing that in here.”
    “We’re not.” Moving past her, he put the fan on the floor. “Can you grab the wine and two glasses, or do I have to do everything?”
    Bree ran her fingers across his flat belly, liking how it rippled beneath her touch. Moving her hand lower, she stroked his fly then the outline of his erect cock. “Not everything.” She gave him a gentle kiss. “Be right back.”
    When she returned,