The Intimacy of Skin by C.W. Scott

Crew
Pain. After ten years of secrets, that was the only thing that kept me sane. Men had been paying to slap me around for eight years and I refused to let that change.
Until I met a client with fiery amber eyes and gentle hands. That night tore me apart, burned me up inside, and reminded me that pain was what I wanted. What I craved. What I deserved.
It was only supposed to be one night. If I’d known I was going to be working for him thanks to my best friend’s meddling, I never would’ve let him touch me.
No matter how much I want him, I know I can’t have him. Even if I crave his touch. Even if I crave his warmth.
I don’t do soft.

Price
My demons left me lonely and stagnant. Not only did I hate my job, but I’d given up on my dream and fell into some not-so-savory habits.
On the days the shadows closed in on me and the itching just beneath my skin got to be too much, I’d pay for the human connection I craved.
Crew was beautiful and he was sad. Something about his tattered soul spoke to mine. When given the opportunity to know him outside of our one-night connection, I couldn’t help jumping at it.
I could see the demons behind his icy blue eyes. I could tell he was drowning. I wanted to know everything about him and build something more with him. I’d do almost anything to learn what’s haunting him.
But I don’t do rough. And I don’t think he wants to either.