Good Girl(33)

"How long have you lived here?" I ask.

"A little under a year."

"Where's your stuff?”

"What stuff?"

"Books? A knickknack? Something that belongs to you?"

"It all belongs to me. I own the hotel."

That's one way of looking at it, I suppose.

"Thank you for the jacket," I offer, holding it out for him to take from me. His eyes drop down to the material in my hands as if he hadn't realized I was carrying anything. He takes it from me, along with my bag, and turns, disappearing down a hallway that I assume leads to his bedroom.

I continue to stand in the same spot because I've never sold my virginity before so I'm not sure what the proper protocol is, or what I'm supposed to do.

Rhys reappears and walks past me without a glance, heading to a bar situated at the far side of the living area. I follow slowly behind, staying on the opposite side of the bar as he pours himself a drink. A shot of something, I'm really not sure what. I'm not that familiar with alcohol either, truth be told. I'm only twenty-two and I didn't do much underage drinking. By much I mean any.

"Can I have one?"

"Do you need one?"

His reply is curt, his eyes on mine as he knocks back his drink.

"Why are you being so mean?"

"Mean?" His brows rise in surprise. "Mean?" he repeats with a laugh. "I just saved you from creepy Stan and I'm mean?" He shakes his head. "Now you're stuck with creepy Rhys instead," he mutters to himself.

"I don't think you're creepy," I say, shaking my head in refusal. I didn't think Stan was creepy either, assuming he's referring to the older guy who was bidding on me, but I don't think it would be appropriate to mention that at the moment. He was super old and I didn't want to have sex with him, but he looked nice enough.

"I just bought you, Lydia. For sex."

"You buy lots of girls for sex," I answer because I'm not sure why it's such a big deal that he paid for me. It's not as if he hasn't done this before, but his eyes narrow and he seems annoyed again. "It wasn't against my will," I add, in case that wasn't clear to him. "It was my idea. The auction was my idea. I don't owe the mob any money. Not yet, anyway."

He sets a second glass on the countertop and fills both, sliding one over to me when he's done. I pick it up and hold the glass to my lips and even though there's not much in the glass I take a sip instead of knocking it back like he did.

"That's terrible," I sputter, setting the glass down.

"That's Scotch," he replies. “Do you always want things that you end up not liking, Lydia?"

"Not usually, no. But one time I bought an ugly sheet at Goodwill thinking it'd be cute when I turned it into pajama pants, but I was wrong." I hold my hands up in a gesture of defeat. "The pants were just as ugly as the sheet had been. I'm not sure that constitutes something I wanted though. It was more of a bad purchase situation but I got them at fifty percent off because they were marked with a pink tag and it was pink tag week so it was closer to an experiment than a bad purchase," I finish in a rush. I think I'm nervous. I wonder if I should try another sip of that awful Scotch? While I'm contemplating that something else occurs to me. "Maybe I'm a bad purchase? Why am I even here? I thought you were too busy to have sex? I could have just gotten a ride home with my roommate."

Rhys has rounded the bar while I babbled and now he's stopped directly in front of me. He places a finger under my chin and tilts my head up, placing a soft kiss on my lips.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he whispers in my ear. He doesn't seem so mad anymore.

"Is it happening right now? Are we doing the sex?"

"We're most definitely doing the sex," he confirms and takes my hand in his.





Eighteen





LYDIA



"This is what you want?"

"Yes." I nod quickly and repeatedly. "Yes, yes, yes."

We've moved to his bedroom, another set of floor-to-ceiling windows, another priceless view of the Strip. A king-sized bed neatly made with the sheets turned down for the evening. I wonder if he has maid service or if he makes his own bed every day.

He kisses me again, a soft press of his lips against mine, and then he's moving about the room while I remain rooted to the spot, just inside the doorway. He unfastens his watch, sliding it from his wrist and placing it inside the top drawer of the dresser. His wallet follows and then he's unrolling his shirt sleeves.

"Fear isn't really my kink, Lydia."

I'm not afraid, just unsure. Unsure what to do with myself. Unsure what he wants. Unsure if I'm supposed to strip completely naked and lie down on the bed, or just strip down to my new bra and panties so he can take those off me himself.

"I'm not afraid, I just don't know what I'm supposed to do. And being in charge isn't my kink, Rhys."

"So you want me to tell you what to do?"

"Would you?" I exhale in relief. Finally he's getting it. "Boss me. Teach me. Talk dirty to me. I like all of that. I'm good with instructions. And rules. I love rules. They're so clear and unambiguous and sexy."