Vain - Part One (Vain, #1)(2)

"Wait." His low voice is edged with a plea. "I want to ask you something."
"Are you talking to me or blue eyes?" The beautiful blonde's eyes narrow as she turns towards our naked host. Blue eyes? I've been called a host of things in my life but that's a new one. Given the fact that our body shapes, hair color and height are almost on par, I guess the one distinguishing factor is our eye color. Good on her for noticing a small detail like that when there's a loose cock in the room.
"You can go." He pushes past her and walks out into the hallway to where I'm standing next to the now closed elevator. I have to give the doorman props for not reacting at all when he caught sight of the resident of the penthouse without any clothing. He didn't bat an eyelash as he stood silently watching the doors close before the lift whizzed back down to the lobby. Maybe it's a regular occurrence here. Maybe I need to look for an apartment in this building. The only men I've seen naked in my building are the ones I bring home. I can't say any of them have been as memorable as this man.
"You pay whether or not you play." Her accent has suddenly vanished in wake of his dismissal.
He casts his eyes down at her before he grabs my arm. "Alexa, come back in inside."
"Is that your real name? Are you new?" His scheduled companion for the evening is full of questions that I don't want to answer. "Who do you work for?"
Is she serious? That’s the second time tonight I've been mistaken for a prostitute. "I don't…" I trail as I search the air for what should come next. I don't turn tricks? I don't sleep with men for money? I don't know how I ended up talking to a gorgeous naked man and a call girl?
"How much?" he barks at her as he guides me back into his apartment.
"Fifteen hundred and a generous tip are always appreciated." Her perfectly manicured hand dashes out in front of her to wait for the offering.
"A tip?" He rifles through a drawer in the foyer table and pulls out a sizeable wad of cash. "You didn't even strip."
"I can change that," she purrs as she turns in front of me. "Blue eyes, unzip me."
I take a step back. I'm not touching her or her overpriced dress. I reach into my clutch for my smartphone. Maybe if I appear busy these two will keep their bartering to themselves. The only message I have waiting for me is one from Sadie, thanking me again for delivering the sandwich. I should be the one thanking her.
"Keep your clothes on." His voice is thick and measured. "Here's your money."
She gleefully scoops the money into her palm and turns to walk out the still open door of his apartment. "Thanks, baby and for the record, I love tattoos."

Chapter 2

Tattoos. He's covered in them. My eyes have been so focused on his now half erect cock that I haven't given myself a chance to soak in the beauty of the art that covers his chest, back and arms. Each design is intricate, balanced and striking. He's perfect.
"I'm Noah Foster." It's a declaration that catches me off guard.
"I'm Alexa Jackson," I counter even though I know he already knows my first name. I want to hear him say it again. I love the growl that escapes from deep within him when he speaks.
"The Noah Foster." His brow furrows as he stresses the words.
"The Noah Foster?" I repeat unsure if he's trying to sound completely narcissistic or if I'm misinterpreting.
He only nods in response.
"I need to go the Noah Foster." I'll play his game. For this being only my second night back in Boston, it's been one of the most memorable in all my twenty-two years.  "I have plans."
"You're not the regular delivery person." He leans back against the door of his apartment, and crosses his muscular arms across his chest. He's impressive and he knows it. He's definitely more than six feet tall. If I had to venture a guess based on the height of my heels, I'd say he's hovering right around the six foot four inch mark. That's almost a full foot taller than me.
The regular delivery person is an elderly man named Bernie. I'd met him months ago when Sadie introduced me to him. "Bernie is sick," I say while I'm trying desperately to keep my eyes fixed to his ridiculously handsome face.
"You're the stand in?" He nods at me. "That's quite the improvement."
I smile slightly at the odd compliment. He doesn't strike me as the type of man who eagerly hands out accolades to just anyone.  "I was doing a friend a favor."
"If you don't deliver food, what do you do?" The question comes with a subtle proposition. He's actually interested in what I do? Or maybe he's still hell bent on me being his f*ck buddy for the night. Everything about him screams control and expectation.
"I'm a teacher," I say the words with pride. I am a teacher. It's taken me years to accomplish my goal of getting a degree in education. I'm close now. I'm just one semester away from graduating.
"You're a teacher?" His gaze rakes over me lazily. "I don't know another teacher that looks like you."
My eyes float from his face down to his groin and then back up again. "Your loss."
A sly grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. "Let's get to the point."
"The point?" I parrot back. "What point?"
"Do you know who I am?" he asks without any hesitation in his voice at all.
"Yes." I sigh. This guy's confidence is bursting out of every pore in his rock hard body. It's no wonder though. He's what women dream about when they're home alone. "You're the Noah Foster."