By the Hour

by Roni Loren

  She let her forehead touch his, the wave of emotion almost too much to weather upright. “I don’t need you to quit you job, Lane. I’m sorry I asked you to do that. The patients deserve someone who is there for the right reasons. You are that person.”

  He sighed, his fingers lacing in her hair, his eyes closing. “We are completely ridiculous.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been a wreck since you walked away from me. I was going to come by tonight and talk to you.”

  She lifted her head, blinking hard. “About what?”

  “I applied for a counseling internship on the X-wing.”

  She stilled.

  “I’ve wanted that gig for a while but was too scared to take the written tests required to get the position. I knew I’d fail. But I told Donovan about my dyslexia, and he’s set up accommodations. The pay isn’t as good, but the experience will be everything I could want and it will count for my experiential hours for my degree. I’ll get to work directly with patients on all kinds of issues, shadowing the psychologists.”

  Her heart pounded against her ribs. “But what about your surrogate job? I don’t want you to do this for me, Lane. I want to be with you. No conditional clauses.”

  He pushed her hair away from her face. “I can’t tell you what it means for me to hear you say that, but I’m not doing this for you. I believe in what I do, and I think it’s an important role. But I realized after we broke up that I was clinging to it for the wrong reasons. It’s my comfort zone. I know I’m good at it. It was my sure thing. The unknowns are scary. I don’t know if I’m going to make it through school. I don’t know if I’m skilled enough to be a full-fledged therapist with my own caseload. I don’t want to fail. But if I keep dragging out my schooling, using this job to distract me from my ultimate goal, then I’m just being a coward.”

  Her ribs were cinched so tight she could barely breathe. “Lane.”

  “I love you, doc. I don’t need your money, but I sure as hell need you.”

  She swallowed hard.

  “So”—his green eyes held her gaze, a flicker of mischief there—“if the fancy doctor doesn’t mind being with a lowly intern, maybe we could try this again?”

  Try again. Her heart seemed to lift higher in her chest and a smile crept up her face. “Does this mean you’re going to make inappropriate intern jokes that make me seem like a dirty old lady who’s taking advantage of you?”

  He gave her a come-on-now look. “As if I’d pass up that opportunity. Who do you think I—”

  She didn’t let him finish. She couldn’t bear it any longer. It’d been one of the longest weeks of her life and a lifetime since she’d felt this brand of happiness. Her and Lane together. No contract clauses. No sharing. No hiding. She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

  He groaned, his mouth opening to hers as his hands slid inside her coat and gripped her waist. He kissed her like he needed her air, like he’d been just as miserable being apart as she had. She deepened the kiss, stealing as much closeness as she could. Starved for him. But none of it seemed like enough for either of them. His hands grappled blindly and then lifted her up to straddle his lap. She put her fingers in his hair and eased him back along the exam table. Her hands roamed, careful not to touch his shoulder but not careful about anything else. Her hand fumbled with his buttons, dipped inside his shirt, mapped his abdomen.

  “I feel like I’m getting a very thorough exam,” he said between kisses.

  “I’m good at my job,” she said, yanking his shirttails from his pants. “Got to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m so very okay.” He cupped her breast with a warm hand and her stethoscope fell to the floor. They sank into another deep kiss. The protective paper covering the table bunched beneath them and made crinkly noises. She sent up a silent thank you that there were no surveillance cameras in exam rooms and that the hospital had thick walls.

  Still they kissed. Heat shimmered through her, defrosting all the parts of her that had been cold since he’d left her in that parking lot, including the most important spot deep in her chest that had been iced over for far too long.

  “I love you, Lane,” she murmured against his lips.

  “I love you back.”

  She slid her hands along his chest and kissed a line up his jaw, avoiding the side with the scratches. His cock was hard against the spot where their bodies met, and her own libido thundered through her, making demands, making her reckless. Nothing in the world seemed more important right now than being with this man, skin to skin, exorcising all the demons that had chased them, sharing their love for each other. She didn’t want to stop. But her logical side tried to whisper through the erotic haze. She needed to get up and lock the door, mark the room as occupied. Let no one disturb them.

  She would do that.

  But just one more kiss and maybe a hand tracing the outline of his cock.

  Hinges squeaked loudly, the door swinging open, air shifting.

  Lane stiffened but Elle didn’t even bother looking up. “Shut it and turn the sign to occupied. I’m on break.”

  The intruder laughed quietly. “No problem, boss. I didn’t see a thing.”

  Oriana.

  The door clicked shut and Elle smiled down at Lane. “Now, where were we?”

  Lane cocked an eyebrow at her. “I think you were about to fuck me on an exam table in your doctor’s coat. Please tell me that’s the case. Please tell me I haven’t passed out from blood loss and this is actually happening.”

  She grinned wider. “This is, indeed, happening.”

  He grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and dragged her down close. “Ah, pornographic dreams really do come true.”

  She brushed her lips against his, her chest filling with a frothy warmth, one that made her feel light and free and so fully in her skin that it made her breath catch. “I’m starting to believe the fairytale kind do, too.”

  His eyes softened and he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Ready to be my princess, doc?”

  “No.” Her lips curved. “I’m the queen. I’m always the queen.”

  He chuckled beneath her. “Of course. You know that’s what I used to call you in my head. The Ice Queen.”

  She sniffed. “Asshole.”

  “I was.” He slipped his hand under her shirt and dragged a thumb over her breast. “I was wrong about the ice part. Dead-on about the queen.” He pressed a kiss to her mouth. “Now take off all your clothes, Your Highness, and keep the coat. Let’s see if I’m worthy of being your king.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  His face lit. “Finally, she follows a command!”

  She poked his side. “Don’t get used to it.”

  “I wouldn’t dare,” he teased. “You wouldn’t be you otherwise. And you…are perfect.”

  The words filtered through her, cutting through the tangles of bad memories and the failed marriage and the insecurities. He loved her. Not some polite, edited version. The woman she was, sharp edges and all. And she loved him back. Every last sweet, sexy bit of him.

  They slipped off their clothes. She donned her coat, feeling wrong in the best way possible wearing only that, and Lane laid her out on the table.

  He watched her with hungry eyes as he gripped her thighs and sank himself deep inside her. She let out a soft moan and held on to his biceps, her nails digging into the thick muscle. He canted his hips, angling just right, and the heat of him washed through her and made every agitated nerve sigh with relief. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so filled up, not just physically but in every part of her psyche.

  She didn’t believe in one person completing another but now she knew what people meant when they said they’d found their match. Lane fit into her jagged spaces and smoothed them out, made her feel part of something instead of always on the outside looking in.

  Made her feel…happy to be exactly who she was.

  Lane shift
ed above her, one hand gripping the side of the table and the other tucked between their bodies, stroking her with confident skill and toe-curling accuracy.

  Her brain buzzed with pleasure, making her back arch and a breathy sound come out of her. She wanted to savor this, to feel every sweet second, but her body felt ready to override the plan and go for the finale immediately.

  A menacing grin appeared and Lane’s gaze shifted to the left. “What do we have here?”

  He was asking her questions right now? She couldn’t be expected to answer questions. She grunted but turned her head and tried to focus on whatever it was.

  Lane braced himself above her, stealing away the blissful stroke of his fingers, and he lifted what he’d discovered. One of the arm cuffs of the four-point restraints they had for this table.

  “What exactly goes on in this room, doc?” he asked wickedly, his hips still moving in a slow, tortuous rhythm that was making her pant.

  “Patients. Danger. To. Themselves. Or. Others.”

  He dragged the soft, flexible material of the cuff over her breast, making her nipple tighten and a curl of pleasure go through her. “Well, you look very dangerous, doc. Definitely a threat.”

  “I will be if I don’t get to come soon,” she managed.

  He laughed. “Defiant too. Definitely needs an intervention.”

  Lane slipped his fingers around her wrist and drew her arm down by her hip. He looped the restraint around one wrist and then gave the other the same treatment, pinning her arms at her sides.

  She expected a bit of unease at being restrained, but a tremor of need went through her instead. Trust that Lane would make this good for her. But when he slid his cock from inside her, she groaned in protest.

  He climbed off the table and found the ankle restraints and put her completely at his mercy. He traced fingertips up her thigh, admiring his handy work. “That’s better.”

  “You’re evil,” she said, arching and testing the restraints with a tug. They didn’t give. These weren’t some novelty item from the lingerie store. These were medical grade. Meant to protect people.

  But Lane looked poised for torture.

  He trailed a path up her thigh and tucked two fingers inside her, finding her slick and desperate. “You want to come, doc?”

  “You fucking know I do.” She lifted her hips, seeking more. “And you’ve just blocked yourself. You’re not going to be able to fuck me like this.”

  His lips kicked up at the corner. “Believe me. I don’t plan to suffer.”

  He climbed back over her, bracing himself above her, and with all the patience in the world, he dragged his cock over her labia and along her clit. Her knees tried to bow up, the ripple of pleasure zipping over her, but the ankle restraints held.

  She shuddered with need.

  “Very nice,” Lane said, voice dark with promise. “You can’t go anywhere. You just have to take what I’m willing to give you.”

  He dragged himself over her in a hypnotic, sensation-laden rhythm, making every part of her aware of every inch of him. She needed to spread her legs, to feel him fill her up, to come and come and come. But she couldn’t move, could only accept the sparking sensations, feel the erotic ache inside her.

  She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “Please, Lane. I need you.”

  “She begs,” he said softly.

  For once that didn’t trigger her defiant genes. It no longer felt like losing a game. She could ask for what she needed from Lane without consequences. They were in this together. Both enjoying themselves. No shame. No apologies for what felt good to them. They could have their combative sex. They could play roles. But sometimes, she could just give in and let go.

  She was free. “Please. I love you.”

  He leaned down to kiss her softly and then uncuffed her ankles. She hooked her legs around his hips, and he sank deep inside her. Her hands were still cuffed but she didn’t need her hands to feel. Her breasts rubbed against the coarse hair on his chest, making her nipples tingle, his fingers stroked over her clit, making her blood pump, and his cock stretched her. In minutes, they both came with a chorus of quiet moans, hot words, and sweat-slicked skin.

  She rode the wave of it. Every part of her was alight with feeling, with sensation. But when they finally settled against each other, coasting down from the high, something much more potent than the aftershocks of orgasm washed through her. In those private, quiet minutes, every hollow space, every dark corner inside her filled to the brim with contentment.

  This was what she never knew she’d been searching for. This sense of knowing she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

  Elle had always thought that villains had more fun in fairy tales, that happy endings were for childhood fantasies. Unrealistic. Boring.

  But looking at Lane, feeling his heart beat against hers, seeing the future stretch out before them, she no longer wanted to be the Ice Queen in her tale.

  She wanted to be the wide-eyed child who believed in the possibility.

  Who believed that happily ever after wasn’t so unrealistic after all.

  That, in fact, it was hers for the taking.

  She just had to close her eyes, take Lane’s hand, and leap.

  Epilogue

  Nine months later

  Elle was starved after the drive back from New Orleans. She’d wanted to stop and grab a burger or something along the way, but Lane had asked her to hold out for dinner at a restaurant since he hadn’t seen her in five days.

  She’d been bummed he hadn’t been able to come with her to visit her mother and sister, but he’d been in the home stretch of finishing a big research paper and needed some quiet time to dictate his latest pages. She also suspected that he was trying to give her bonding time with her family. Things had gotten much better with her sister, since they’d been together so often during their mom’s recovery, but there was still work to be done, trust to be built. However, things with her mom had grown in a direction Elle had never dared hope for. They were getting along and actually enjoying each other’s company.

  Elle had taken time off and spent a few weeks with her mom after her surgery, rotating duties with her sister. And though it’d been tough to see her mother in pain, it’d been a gift to spend some one-on-one time with her mom. She got to see sides of her that she’d never been privy to as a child. They were also more alike than she realized—in good ways and bad—and that had opened up doors to conversations Elle had needed to have with her, healed wounds that had been left open.

  She now spoke with her every few days because they enjoyed each other. That urge to simply chat with her mom was something she still marveled over.

  Elle let out a sigh of relief when she saw the sign for Parrain’s PoBoys gleaming neon against the worn wood of the building. Nothing sounded better right now than a sloppy roast beef po-boy, a pile of fries, and a sexy man to share them with.

  She parked next to Lane’s car and headed toward the building, surprised to see the parking lot full at this late of an hour on a weeknight. Usually, this was a weekend hotspot and more of a takeout place for the middle of the week.

  The crushed oyster shell gravel crunched beneath her shoes as she passed a man leaving with an armful of sandwiches wrapped in white butcher paper, the grease already peeking through. The tempting smell of fried shrimp wafted after him and her stomach growled.

  She picked up the pace and jogged up the stairs of the wide front porch. The empty rocking chairs creaked in the breeze, greeting her. But when she pulled the door open, the lights blinked off and she was hit with darkness. Only the neon Abita Beer sign behind the bar glowed. “What the hell?”

  But before she could process why the neon would be on and not the overheads, a loud chorus of “Surprise!” nearly knocked her back out the door.

  The lights flicked on and she yelped, putting her hand to her chest. A crowd of faces smiled back at her. The faces coming into sharp focus as her eyes adjusted. Oriana. Donovan. Marin.
Ray. Members of her staff. Other colleagues. And then right at the center, Lane, smiling his wicked grin and holding out his arms in a ta-da motion.

  She blinked, trying to take it all in, well and truly shocked. “What in the world is going on?”

  Oriana held up a glittery sign. “Happy Birthday!”

  The group clapped and whooped.

  “Birthday?” Elle shook her head. “Mine’s not until next month.”

  Lane grinned. “Hence the surprise.”

  She laughed and held her hands out to her sides. “Wow, well, I’m officially surprised!”

  “Yes!” Oriana pumped a fist in the air. “Nailed it.”

  “Thanks, everyone. I’ve never had a surprise party.” Or any birthday party as an adult at all.

  She glanced around at all the colorful balloons mixing in with holiday decorations. Everything was festive and lovely, but her gaze caught on a table where a small pile of presents was stacked. Her breath caught. It was the table where she’d sat and first watched Lane cross the room toward her. She could almost see her former self still sitting there, separated from the group, back straight, expression annoyed. Last year, she’d been in that very spot on her birthday, more alone than she’d ever been in her life. Tears pricked her eyes.

  Music from the jukebox started up and Lane stepped forward to gather her into his arms. He tilted his face close to hers, his voice low. “You okay? Because if this isn’t your thing, I’ll steal you away right now. I know you’re not much of a party person, but your friends really wanted to do something.”

  Friends.

  She rolled her lips together, overwhelmed at knowing that her co-workers put this together for her, but more overwhelmed that she was part of this group now. “They did this?”

  He smiled. “Yes, my birthday surprise would involve a lot less clothes and probably ball gags. The night is young, though.”

  She laughed and half-heartedly shoved him. “I hate you.”

  He kissed her hand. “I hate you back.”

  She poked a finger to his chest. “I don’t want to leave. But if I don’t get my po-boy in the next two minutes, there may be blood.”