“Well?” Alena whispers, sliding her hand up my thigh. “Seeing as it’s just the two of us … You could even take me home. Back to your place.”
“No,” I say at once. “If we leave, it will be to a hotel.”
She makes a catlike whining noise, but knows better than to argue the point. She knows I am not ready—will never be ready—to invite her into my personal sanctuary. I feel nothing for her except the pulsing at the base of my manhood.
But it would be good to forget, just for a little while.
“Come on, baby,” Alena breathes, tugging on my shirt.
She seems distracted this evening. Usually she throws herself at me as though her life’s goal is to make me love her, eyes burning into me, tugging and sighing and moaning. But now she is glancing at the door. And then she compensates by being far pus
