With the Lights On by Jackie Ashenden

Author:Jackie Ashenden
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-29T18:58:36+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Magdalen

HE WAS SO stunningly attractive like this, but not because of how easily he’d handled me—his strength so obvious as he’d pushed me onto my back—or how glorious his bare flesh had felt against mine.

No, it was because of the teasing glitter in his eyes and the note of rough demand in his voice, despite the attempt at lightness. Because of the hungry way he was looking at me, as if I was all he wanted.

My heart thumped hard behind my breast bone, the warm, reassurance he’d given me before gradually getting hotter and more intense.

I’d told him my secret about med school, which wasn’t something I told anyone these days, not after Gran had been so scathing about it. I hadn’t even told Vesta. I wasn’t even sure why I’d told him. Maybe I’d been orgasm-drunk or something, because I’d thought, What the hell? Why not? He’d asked me why I kept working for Strangers, so why shouldn’t I tell him the truth?

When I’d mentioned my clients and how I viewed myself as helping them, I’d caught a flash of something sharp in his eyes—anger, maybe—and I had the sudden realisation that perhaps I shouldn’t have said that they were lonely people searching for a connection. That perhaps Trajan would assume I thought the same about him.

But the truth was that, although Trajan was a client, I’d never seen him in quite the same way as I saw my other clients, and that was probably due to our intense attraction. He was so gorgeous, so confident, and not at all like the lonely businessmen I usually dealt with. I even wondered a couple of times why a man like him would pay for company, that surely he must have more than he knew what to do with, but then I’d dismissed the thought. It wasn’t my place to wonder why and it presupposed things about a person that maybe weren’t true. My job was to fill the need, not question why it was there in the first place.

Trajan hadn’t laughed when I’d told him about med school, though. He’d seemed to find my desire for a career in medicine perfectly understandable, and not only that but achievable too. He didn’t think it was a ridiculous thing for a whore to want more for herself, and he’d been far too sharp about that word.

He’d spotted my anger. He’d known that there was a part of me that judged myself for my choices. The part of me that was probably my gran’s voice telling me that I shouldn’t get above myself, that I shouldn’t want more. That I should be grateful for what I had. That selling myself for money was a terrible thing to do.

Except Trajan hadn’t judged me and he’d seemed to understand that there was something profound I could give to lonely people. And that I liked that aspect of it. That there was no shame in wanting to give people a few hours of connection.

Even if you can never have that yourself.

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