Oh hell. Why not?

  I pulled up the covers so I could look at the phone without shining a beacon of brightness that might wake up Wright. Not that much could wake him, but it would be just my luck that he’d magically turned into a light sleeper tonight, and I absolutely didn’t want him asking what I was doing.

  I muted everything on the phone just in case the app had any bells or whistles. Then, with my heart in my throat, I went to the folder where I’d hidden the new app.

  It was a gemstone. Like a diamond, except green.

  Below that:

  Gentlemen of the Emerald City.

  Okay, so it was an emerald. Got it. And looking closely, there was a tiny image of the Space Needle tucked inside the icon. Cute.

  So, was I going to just stare at the icon all night and think about the design? Or tap it and see what the app was all about.

  My stomach somersaulted. Was this really how I was going to do this? Well, at this point the alternatives were staying a virgin indefinitely or hooking up with a stranger on Tinder and hoping for the best. The first option frustrated me as much as the second terrified me.

  So, I tapped it. There were some cursory user agreement things, and I read them thoroughly because I’d taken pre-law classes, and also because I’d seen the Human Centipede episode of South Park and was paranoid about what kinds of horrible things were tucked into these agreements. Not that I expected an actual clause allowing the company to kidnap me and use me to make a Human Centipede, but I wasn’t a big fan of having my data sold or my location tracked. Especially not from an app I was using to find sex.

  Oh God. Was I doing this? Was this like a mail order bride thing, except hookups? Netflix for dicks? DoorDash for ass? RubHub?

  My own thoughts made me chuckle, though I kept it quiet. I was being ridiculous and I knew it, but it kept me distracted from how utterly bizarre it was to be reading—and now agreeing to—a user agreement for an escort service.

  Filling in the background check thing gave me pause. The user agreement had made it clear that my data wouldn’t be sold and that it was encrypted like twelve times over, right? I read it again just to be sure. The last thing I needed was them splattering it all over the press that I hired escorts. Though they’d never said anything about Smitty, and he seemed to dig this company enough that he was recommending it. I wondered if he got kickbacks for that. Like twenty percent off your next blowjob if you referred a friend? Maybe that would be the next multi-level marketing scheme everyone I went to high school with posted about on Facebook.

  Come to our escort party! To become a distributor, you just have to buy 500 blowjobs to sell, and then you start getting paid whenever distributors you sign on buy or sell blowjobs! You’ll own your own business, set your own hours, and make money hand over fist!

  I had to cover my mouth to muffle the snort. I was taking this seriously. I really was. But Jesus fuck, this was the first time I’d ever even considered paying for sex, and I might have been just a wee bit kind of sort of nervous as hell.

  Collecting myself, I continued through the app. I submitted the information for the background check and put in a credit card. It was a low limit card, so if someone decided to run off with it, they wouldn’t get very far.

  And with all the logistics sorted out, there was nothing left to do but see what the app had to offer.

  Or rather, who the app had to offer.

  The search function had all kinds of criteria, or I could just browse. I narrowed the geographic part to within twenty miles of Seattle, but that was it.

  And…wow. These guys were hot as hell.

  I’d kind of imagined they’d all be in their twenties, but the ages were all over the place. Minimum was twenty-one, but I saw a few in their late thirties and even into their forties.

  One named Marco caught my eye. He was in his late thirties with a hint of gray in his hair, and he was seriously sexy. Something about a silver fox guiding me in bed was… Hmm, yes. I added him to my favorites.

  Another named Hunter had eyes I could get lost in but there was a note about limited availability. One look at his calendar—oh God. Trying to coordinate so I had a free evening on the rare night he was available? That would probably involve, like, algebra.

  Andre was a couple of years older than me, and he was cute. Reading between the lines of his profile, though, he was exclusively a top. Bottoming kind of scared me; I wanted to try it, but I didn’t want it to be the only option. And I also wanted to try topping. So…maybe not him.

  I moved to the next profile and—

  Oh. Hello.

  His name was Cole, and he was white with dark blond hair, deep brown eyes, and full lips I could stare at all night. He had cheekbones for days, eyebrows that screamed sass, and a get over here and take your pants off grin that made my heart race.

  One look at him and I forgot all about the other guys. I didn’t even need to read his profile. Just take my money, dude.

  Except…

  Aw, fuck. If he was an escort, then he was experienced as all hell. Even if this was his job, I couldn’t shake the certainty that he’d be fighting not to laugh in my face.

  “You mean to tell me,” I could hear him saying, “that you’re a top tier pro athlete, and you’ve never managed to get a single piece of ass? Really?”

  Ugh, that was mortifying.

  On the other hand, since he was getting paid, he would probably put on a professional face and not make me feel like shit. And once I’d gone a round or two with him, then I wouldn’t be an inexperienced loser who’d make an idiot of myself when I met someone I wasn’t paying.

  So did I really have much to lose here? A little dignity, some cash, and my virginity, and I wanted to lose one of those things.

  Fine. I’d schedule something with him, and…

  And then I’d see what happened. Because I had absolutely no idea what to expect beyond feeling like a complete jackass for needing to hire someone for this. It was like bringing in a tree removal service because nobody else would volunteer to touch the unsightly virginity tree taking up the whole damn yard. Or something. Whatever.

  Yeah, it was definitely time to do something about it.

  So, with my heart in my throat, I tapped the icon for Book this Gentleman. After going through a few steps, including confirming my credit card, it was done. The background check would be complete by the time I was back in town.

  Then I’d meet Cole.

  And I’d finally get rid of this pesky virginity.

  Chapter 2

  Cole

  This guy had to be a pro athlete.

  Okay, so I had no way of actually knowing that, but time and experience had me placing bets in that direction as soon as I pulled into the parking garage beneath his building. For one thing, the handful of pictures he’d uploaded showed an utterly ripped physique. Athlete or hardcore gym rat, for sure.

  And then there was the place I was meeting him. The condos in this area were relatively inexpensive by Seattle standards, which still meant they cost a pretty penny, but they weren’t setting anyone back by seven figures. That sleek black Porsche in the parking space reserved for his unit stood out amongst the more everyday models around it—a Lexus or three, some Beamers, a Mercedes.

  So if he was a pro athlete, he was either newly signed (splurging on a shiny-ass sports car but not quite ready to drop a few mill on a mansion in Bellevue or Medina), or he was a more seasoned player who wasn’t so hot with money (made enough to buy the car, but didn’t hold on to cash long enough to buy one of the swankier places where his teammates lived). This could also be a crash pad where the guy hid hookups from his wife, which again seemed to be a common MO among athletes who’d hired me.

  Again, that was pure speculation on my part. They were just patterns I’d picked up after working for Emerald City for a while. For all I knew, tonight’s client was a cryptocurrency tycoon or an exec for one of the software companies who also devoted a lot of time at the gym. My money was still on an athlete, though. Call it a gut feeling.

  I suppressed a grumble and put on a smile as I got out of my car to head for the elevator. Athletes were not my favorite clientele. The egos were just…ugh. One of my semi-regulars was a literal rock star, and his ego had nothing on some of these guys. My ex Bryce thought it was kind of funny—guys who were rolling money and thought they were God’s gift to everything, but they still had to hire ass. I was more inclined to think they liked hiring ass because it was a way of flaunting their money and power. If Bryce ended up working for Gentlemen of the Emerald City, which he was seriously considering, he’d find out what I was talking about. He’d understand why I side-eyed guys like that.

  Eh. They were still more fun than a boardroom exec.

  Those guys. Seriously.

  I took the stairs up to the second floor, fussing with my shirt and cuffs along the way. Maybe I should’ve worn a tie. That would give me something to play with and keep my hands busy. Well, whatever. I just tried to keep my mind fixed on how this client was probably another entitled rich asshole or an athlete who thought the world of himself. That was a lot easier than letting my thoughts go down the rabbit hole of “but what if he’s…” that could have me sweating bullets and ready to turn tail and run. I’d only had a handful of bad experiences as an escort—two that were really bad—and that mental spiral could throw me off my game. Way better to focus on what kind of “just call me Adonis” sportsball player I was likely about to meet.

  The athletes weren’t all egotistical assholes, either. My best friend, Luca, was blissfully happy with the hockey player who’d hired him over the summer and then fallen madly in love with him. On the other hand, Luca had also had bad experiences with two other hockey players, including one who was apparently still active on the roster. The jerk couldn’t book Luca anymore since Luca was no longer working as a Gentleman, but he was still out there...

  I paused in the hallway. Oh, shit. Was that this guy? Had he started a new profile? I suppressed a groan. Fuck. Because I wasn’t touching that asshole with someone else’s dick. He’d tried to book me once, and after reading the Gentlemen’s-eyes-only comments on his profile, I’d made myself very unavailable.

  Except tonight’s booking had come from someone with a new profile, and he was younger than that other guy, if I remembered right. Plus he’d have been hard-pressed to get a whole new profile past Anita, so no, this client wasn’t that jackwagon. Hopefully he wasn’t like him, either. Maybe he’d be like that one hockey player I had been with a few times; that guy was fun as hell.

  Only one way to find out.

  At the client’s door, I paused, pushed my shoulders back, and made sure my face was pleasant.

  Then I knocked.

  Footsteps on the other side raised some hairs on my neck—gotta love those preemptive nerves—and the click of the deadbolt prompted a nervous swallow, but by the time the door opened, my professional expression was back in place.

  As soon as I saw him, I almost had to laugh at how accurate my prediction had been. He was about my height—not quite six foot—and way more built. No one got thighs or an ass like that from just working out at the gym. And considering the Seattle Breakers T-shirt stretched across his broad chest, the hockey sticks on the wall above his entertainment center, and the muted hockey game on the huge flat screen, I was pretty sure I could narrow down which sport he played.

  He was white with dark, wavy hair that probably looked hot as hell when it was damp with sweat. He had a prominent scar over the bridge of his nose. Another on his chin. His features were sharp—Slavic, I thought—and his eyes were gorgeous, gray, and…shy? That was new.

  And that shyness wasn’t just in his eyes. Blushing, he dropped his gaze and gestured for me to come in. “You’re Cole, right?”

  “I am.” I stepped into the condo. “Parker?”

  He nodded. “Um. Come on in.”

  I left my shoes by the door beside his, and we moved into the living room. Surreptitiously watching him, I reminded myself that Luca had ended up leaving Emerald City to be with his hockey player client-turned-boyfriend, and I distinctly remembered him fondly reminiscing about how shy Ethan had been when they’d first met. I decided shy could be promising. Better than some of the arrogant dickhead athletes who always seemed to hire me, that was for sure.

  We sat down on Parker’s couch, and he turned off the television. Though the game had been on mute, the condo seemed even quieter after the screen went dark, as if the visual noise had been enough to fill in some of the silence. Folding and unfolding his hands in his lap, he glanced my way, anxiety radiating from him. “I, um…” He laughed, letting even more nerves show. “I’ve never done this. So I’m… I don’t really know…”

  Keeping my voice pleasant and non-judgmental, I asked, “Is this your first time hiring an escort?”

  Parker laughed self-consciously and avoided my gaze. “Oh, yeah, you could say that.” He ran a hand through his hair and still didn’t look at me. “This is, um… This is my first time with anyone. At all.”

  My breath hitched. “Is it?”

  He nodded. “One of my friends recommended hiring someone because I…” His cheeks darkened again, and he stared down at his wringing hands. “Christ, it sounded like a good idea, but now I’m—”

  “Hey,” I said quietly. “Relax. I’m here to give you whatever you want. All you have to do is tell me what that is.”

  “I want to get laid,” he said with a laugh, and then he covered his face with his hands and groaned. “Oh my God…”

  I stared at him for a moment. I was so used to athletes who were farther up their own asses than I’d ever get. This guy—he threw me off completely. It was hard to imagine him as a hockey player. Even knowing what I did about Luca’s boyfriend, it was difficult to reconcile this painfully shy, nervous dude with the kind of aggression that their sport demanded.

  Pushing all the surprise out of my voice and expression, I said, “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  He dropped his hands into his lap and shot me a skeptical look.

  “It really isn’t,” I said. “But if it’s a big deal to you to get past it, I can help you with that.”

  Though his nerves hung on, some of the tension eased in his features and his shoulders. “Yeah?”

  I nodded. “Plenty of guys hire men like me their first time.”

  “At twenty-five?” he asked dryly.

  “Twenty-five. Thirty. Thirty-five.” I shrugged. “Forty-five.”

  “Forty—” He blinked. “Are you serious?”

  “I am. I can’t give you details about him, but I can tell you that I’ve definitely been hired by at least one man who was in his mid-forties and still a virgin.”

  Parker’s lips formed a silent oh.

  I watched him, then decided to tip my hand a little more in the name of making him more comfortable. “I was twenty-one.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You were?”

  I could feel myself blushing as I nodded. “And it was tough, putting myself out there when everyone around me seemed to have tons of experience.”

  Parker nodded slowly. “Yeah. Exactly.” He blew out a breath and sat back against the sofa cushions. “I think it’s worse because of…” He gestured at the hockey gear on the walls. “I finally made it. I suddenly have fans throwing themselves at me, and instead of thinking it’s the coolest thing ever, I’m terrified to hook up with any of them because they’ll know.”

  “Are you afraid they might tell someone?” I asked softly. “Or that you won’t be able to perform enough to satisfy them?”

  He swallowed hard. “Both. I can’t even tell you which is worse. Just…both.”

  I smiled, trying to come across as gentle and understanding. “For the record, I’m legally bound to not breathe a word of this to anyone. Even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t.” I shook my head. “And I’m here tonight because you want something from me, not because you have to perform. So all you have to do is tell me what you want, and then enjoy it.”

  Parker pushed out a ragged breath. “Thanks. That… That sounds really good.”

  I reached across the space between us and put a tentative hand on his knee. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose.

  “This all right?” I asked.

  “Y-yeah.” He licked his beautiful, slim lips. “Yeah, it’s… It’s good.”

  I let my hand rest more firmly on top of his leg, trying like hell not to be distracted by the cable-tight—and seriously sculpted—muscles beneath his jeans. Eyes still closed, he shifted on the cushion, the couch’s discreet squeak seeming to echo through the condo. Below his belt, his jeans had definitely gotten tighter.

  “I’m yours for the night,” I whispered. “Whatever you want, say the word.”

  “I’m a virgin. In every way.” He opened his eyes and looked right in mine. “Please tell me you can help with that.”

  Chapter 3

  Parker

  As soon as the comment was out, I wanted to curl up and die. Could I possibly sound like more of a pathetic idiot?

  But Cole’s gentle smile made me even warmer than the hand resting on my leg. So did his smooth voice as he said, “Oh, honey. I can definitely help you with that.”

  My heart was going wild. I didn’t think I’d ever been this nervous before. Not even when my team was depending on me for a game-winning goal or when I was waiting to find out if I’d been drafted. Years of fantasizing and frustration were coming down to tonight, and I was excited, scared, freaked the hell out—every emotion was turned up to an eleven, and the only thing I wasn’t worried about was whether I could stay hard. Mostly because I was painfully hard right now, and no amount of performance anxiety seemed to be affecting that.

  Cole inched closer to me on the couch, and his hand slid a little higher on my thigh. He may as well have started stroking my dick for as much as my body responded. My pulse went haywire. My skin broke out in goose bumps. I swore I was about to come in my pants just from this contact. Which… Dude.. Parker. Get a grip. What the hell?