Slow Hands by Leslie Kelly

dangers of his profession. She’d agreed to let a man who had sex for money pleasure her all night long, without a thought of her own physical well-being until now.
    How did one handle this type of situation? It wasn’t as if she’d ever encountered it, or heard of a guidebook describing how someone made sure a hired lover wasn’t carrying around any nasty reminders of previous clients .
    Then she thought about it. Oliver had cheated on her, not only with the snow ho, but with many others. Or so she’d heard after they broke up.
    She knew guys who’d had sex with dozens of girls in high school and college. Sometimes they even proudly offered different colored bracelets to the girls they scored with, so the easier ones could advertise just how far they were willing to go—and thereby get more dates. More meaningless sexual partners.
    Just because she had only ever had a half-dozen or so lovers didn’t mean everyone else in her circle had. Many, she suspected, probably had as much experience as a pro like Jake did. Some even more.
    Her sister included.
    So she decided to treat him as she would any other potential lover. Openly .
    “We have to use protection. I have condoms at my place.”
    His eyes widened and he glanced over at her, his handsome face—hard-planed, masculine, magnificent—spotlighted by the headlights of cars in the distance.
    “I mean, it’s not that I don’t trust you. But in this day and age…”
    “I’m not offended.”
    Thank goodness.
    He returned his focus to the road. “Just so we’re clear, I’m also not hiding any unpleasant conditions. I have to get routine physicals, it’s part of the job, and I am entirely healthy.”
    She didn’t really want to talk about his job, or even think about it. This is personal , she reminded herself. So she simply replied, “Great.” Then, since fair was fair, added, “For the record, I’m absolutely fine, too.”
    He grinned and winked, breaking the awkward moment. “Yes, indeed, you are, Ms. Turner. Absolutely fine .”
    Then there was nothing left. No barriers. No excuses. No doubts. They’d reached her building and he was pulling into her private parking space in the underground garage. Their next stop would be the elevator, and then her penthouse apartment.
    After that, a night in the arms of the kind of lover women competed for. Dreamed about.
    And for this one night, he was entirely hers.

6
    T HOUGH HE RECOGNIZED the exclusive high-rise building, and had been warned by Maddy’s comments about her bed and her bathtub, Jake hadn’t really been prepared for the opulence of her home.
    First of all, only in movies had he ever seen keyed elevators that opened directly into private apartments. He didn’t think they actually existed.
    Not that he’d really been paying attention until the doors had quietly swished open with a subdued ding. Because from the moment they’d gotten into the elevator down in the garage, he’d had his hand on Maddy’s soft ass and his mouth on the side of her neck.
    The scent of her warm brown hair and her sweet skin had intoxicated him and he’d been unable to resist moving behind her, grinding into her, reaching around to press his hand onto her stomach and pull her hard against him.
    They’d both been distracted then. She’d lifted her arm behind her to drape it around his neck, holding him in place. Arching back against his erection, she’d groaned with a kind of raw, primal pleasure that told him she might just like this particular position with her clothes off.
    Mmm.
    That could definitely be arranged, though not until he’d had her face-to-face, breath-to-breath first. He wanted to watch her eyes as he slowly sank into her, wanted to feel her gasps, hear the little hitch in her throat as she whimpered at how good it felt.
    After that…well, he couldn’t even begin to list the ways he wanted this woman.
    He’d envisioned most of them on the way up. Then they’d reached her floor, the doors had