“What do you feel like?” she asked.

He lifted up on his elbows and stared down at her with such intensity, it stole her breath. She hoped their night together wasn’t about to end prematurely because she was such a novice when it came to one-night stands.

“Pastrami on rye,” he said.

Having thought he was going to say something profound, she laughed. “Do they serve sandwiches here?”

“No,” he said, “but I’m sure we can find one somewhere. Are you hungry?”

She wasn’t really, but she did want to spend more time with him. Preferably in a horizontal position. The man had definitely earned himself a sandwich. And despite her best intentions to keep this as impersonal as possible, she wanted to know about him. Know everything about him. Beside the fact that he was a-maz-ing in bed. And might be sexually attracted to his best friend. She couldn’t let herself dwell on that though. Owen obviously knew his way around the female anatomy. It would be a horrible tragedy if he switched teams.

“Yes,” she said. “I could go for a sandwich.”

“I like the bread lightly toasted and double pastrami. And don’t forget the dill pickle spear on the side.”

He wasn’t really expecting her to get up and make him a sandwich was he? She lifted her head and caught the smirk on his lips, right before he kissed a trail along the bottom of her ribcage. The man was a consummate tease, she decided.

“Would you like a cold beer with that?” she asked.

“That sounds heavenly,” he murmured against her skin. “And some waffle fries.”

“With cheese?”

“Ketchup.”

“Anything else with your order, sir?”

“Make yourself something real nice while you’re up,” he whispered, trailing soft kisses down her belly toward parts of her that could still feel the effects of that delightful cock piercing of his.

“No problem. I’ll just make my way to the nearest kitchen. I should probably take off these stockings so I’m barefoot.”

He lifted his head and grinned. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’d prefer if you wore those and those sexy as sin white high heels while you prepare my meal.”

“And nothing else, I presume.”

“That’s a decent presumption,” he said. His hands skimmed the skin along her sides.

“Glad you approve.”

“You might as well put your clothes on. It will be at least an hour before my sexual appetite matches the hunger in my belly.”

“So why are you still touching me?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” he told her, as if to say duh.

And he was doing a great job at making her feel that way when she had felt anything but beautiful for the past six months. “Thank you,” she said, grateful that her voice didn’t crack from the emotions welling in her throat.

“No, thank you.” He slid up to gaze into her eyes before capturing her lips in a hungry kiss. After several toe-curling moments, he tore his lips from hers and scooted off the edge of the bed. “If I don’t get up now, I’m going to end up getting up again.” He glanced at his glorious cock to let her know which part of him would be up again. “And if that happens, we’ll be at this place all night. I don’t think I can stand to listen to the guy in the next room make those distracting sounds for much longer.”

Caitlyn hadn’t noticed until Owen mentioned it, but coming through the wall was some sound between grunting and yowling. She’d had almost forgotten where she was, why she’d come here, and that Owen was just some pick-up at a sex club.

“Oh yeah, little pussy cat,” their wall-mate hollered, “reach under there and scratch my balls.”

Caitlyn giggled.

“That’s it, pussy cat.” The words penetrated the wall. “Now meow for me.”

Caitlyn couldn’t hear the woman’s meows, but the man’s sudden and startling barks sent her into hysterics. She laughed until tears sprang to her eyes and her belly ached.

“Okay, yeah,” Caitlyn said, forcing her body from the bed. “Let’s get out of here. Find some place for me to make you a sandwich.”

“I don’t really want you to make me a sandwich, Caitlyn.”

She grinned. “I know that. I can tell when you’re teasing.”

“And you were teasing me back?”

She nodded. Owen drew her into his arms and held her close. She smiled against his shoulder.

“Can’t seem to keep my hands off you,” he said.

“I don’t mind,” she assured him.

“Well, here, no, but in a restaurant? I might embarrass you.”

“We could get room service in a hotel,” she said. “Then you can put your hands anywhere you like.”

“I sort of want everyone to see that you’re with me,” he said.

She crinkled her eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because you’re a smokin’ hot babe and I get off on the ego trip.”

She stepped back, one step and then two. What? He’d taken his constant stream of compliments one step too far. No man said things like that unless… Caitlyn scowled and leveled him with her best glare of doom. “Okay, how much did Jenna pay you to make me feel like a million bucks?”

“Pay me?”

“You’re a male escort, aren’t you?” No wonder he was so good in bed. Women paid him to be good in bed. She slapped him in the chest with both hands, pretending not to notice his look of astonishment. “I should have realized it sooner. You’re really smooth, Owen Mitchell, if that’s even your real name.”

She expected him to either admit he was paid to entertain women or indignantly deny it. She never expected him to cover his initial astonishment, real or put-on, with a hearty laugh.

“Do you think I could actually make money doing this?” he asked, pausing to catch his breath. “You know, in case the rock star thing doesn’t work out for me.”

“What?” Caitlyn stared up at him with her mouth agape. “You’re not a rock star. You liar. Everything you’ve said to me has been a lie, hasn’t it?”

The teasing light died from his eyes. “Caitlyn, I’ll allow you to insinuate that I’m a male prostitute. I’m even okay with you struggling to believe I’m part of a famous rock band, but you don’t get to blatantly call me a liar. I’m not a liar. I never lie. I might tease and exaggerate a bit, but I don’t lie.”

She wasn’t sure if he was truly angry, but his body was tense and his expression had gone hard.

“You haven’t been lying to me?”

He shook his head, and she concluded he was the best con man on the planet, an award-winning actor (both distinct possibilities), or he was telling the truth. She felt a mix of relief and concern. Relieved that he was legitimately attracted to her and her friends didn’t have to pay a hot guy to sleep with her. Concerned that she liked that knowledge more than she should. She wasn’t even over Charles yet, was she? This was just a revenge fuck or something, wasn’t it?

“Wait,” she said, “So you’re really a rock star?” She giggled as soon as the words escaped her lips, because seriously, who claims such things and expects people to believe it without some proof? “A rock star?”

“Yep. We were the headlining band in the concert at the AT&T Center tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” That was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard and maybe he didn’t like being called a liar, but she was about to call him one again. “What instrument do you play?”

“What?” he said with a crooked grin. “You don’t think I’m lead singer material?”

He wasn’t lying? He really was a rock star? She took another look at him, unable to believe someone this attractive and apparently famous would want anything to do with her. He was definitely dynamic enough to be a lead singer. “Do you sing?”

“A little,” he said, “but mostly I play bass guitar.”

“What’s the name of your band?” She realized that he was sharing personal information. This was a good sign, wasn’t it? She had to keep him talking, because if he was her revenge fuck, she wanted to continue to seek her revenge for a lot longer.