Renley
Pressing the button for the tenth floor, Renley tried to mask how nervous he was. His palms were sweaty, and his heart beat so erratically that it was almost alarming. With a quick check in the mirror, he flattened his hair and straightened his shirt. It had been a while since he’d polished his boots and starched his jeans.
Self-doubt crashed into him, and he suddenly wanted to run back to his truck and call off this whole thing. God, he felt like a whore. Then again, that was exactly what he was.
He’d tried to find a normal job, but companies weren’t too keen on hiring a twenty-five-year-old ex-con. The elevator opened, and he followed the signs to suite 1036. Taking a deep breath and donning the mask of confidence he’d practiced all day in the mirror, he knocked on the door.
A moment later, it opened and he was met with an insecure smile that almost masked his swirling emotions.
“Eveline?” he asked, putting on his best ‘fuck me’ voice.
The young blonde nodded and bit her lip. “That’s me.”
“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Renley.” Now that he thought about it, maybe giving her his real name hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
With flushed cheeks, she pushed her wheelchair back and allowed him to enter the luxurious suite. The king-sized bed positioned near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a stunning view of downtown Houston, skyscrapers illuminated by the setting sun behind them.
Renley set his bag aside, wondering what the hell he was supposed to say. After all, it was his job tonight to make her feel like a queen. Eveline watched him with a nervous gaze, her hands fidgeting in her lap. She looked so lost and insecure that it hurt his own heart.
Renley fell to one knee in front of her, taking her hands and offering her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “No need to be so nervous.”
That beautiful pink blush deepened, her green eyes falling into her lap. “I’ve never done anything like this.”
“I’m sure you’ve talked to guys before.”
Her hesitant giggle was the sweetest. “Well, yeah.”
“Then, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. Would it help you to go over your expectations we talked about on the phone?” When she nodded, he continued, “You said you’d like some company, maybe just to talk or watch a movie.” Though she’d never explicitly stated that sex was on the table, he got the feeling she was simply too shy to ask. His eyes travelled over her jeans and pink blouse, so with a soft smile he added, “Sounds like something we should get more comfortable for. Have you brought something else to wear?”
“Yes.” Her voice quivered, and he couldn’t even imagine how nervous she was.
“I brought some sweatpants too. Would you like to change and then choose a movie?” Eveline had clearly lost her words,only answering with another nod. He flashed her a bright grin and brushed a kiss along her knuckles. “Would you be more comfortable changing here or in the bathroom?”
“Here, please.”
With another kiss to each of her hands, he stood and looked around for her bag, grabbed it, and sat it within arms’ reach for her. He hooked a finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to his.
“I won’t do anything tonight that you aren’t comfortable with. I’m here to fulfil your needs, whatever they are. No matter how small or insignificant you believe the ask is, I’ll do it.”
Then with a kiss to her blonde hair, he grabbed his bag and retreated into the bathroom, fully aware that those green eyes were glossy with tears. They’d talked on the phone quite a bit before meeting, and judging by the subtle hints and the disparaging way she spoke about herself, he got the hint that being wheelchair-bound held her back quite a bit. But his job—his mission—for the next few hours was to make her feel like the queen she was.
He folded his clothes on the counter and tussled his hair, opting to remain shirtless. She was here for a show after all so why hide the abs and pecs he’d worked hard to maintain. He tossed through his hair once more—his nervous tick—and stepped out of the bathroom. Eveline sat on the edge of the bed, breaking up her styled curls with her fingers and braiding her hair over her shoulder. She wore a baggy t-shirt that still gave away the lack of a bra, and tight shorts that hugged her luscious thighs.
He stepped up next to her and twisted her finished braid around his finger. “You look gorgeous. “
She peered up through her lashes, that stunning pink still colouring her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“I like how well you take compliments.”
“It looks easier than it is.”
“I’m sure.” He still twisted the braid over his hand, brushing the other over her shoulders. “You still look so tense. Would you like a massage while we watch the movie?”
“Can we skip the movie?”
“Of course. Why don’t you get comfortable and lay on your stomach?”
He stepped back to give her room, suppressing the urge to offer help. Eveline scooted closer to the headboard and then pulled her legs onto the bed. When they’d talked, she had told him she was in a wheelchair, but wasn’t clear about how much leg function she had—nor did he ask. By what he could see, she didn’t have any. Was him telling her to lay down without offering his help horrible? Was it something she needed, but was too shy to ask for? Renley banished the thoughts. She clearly had it handled.
