by J. L. Beck
Instead of sitting in silence for an hour she did something she’d never done before. She stood, adjusted her blouse, and then crossed the coffee table barrier to sit beside him on the arm of one of the chairs. Even with the height difference her eyes were almost level with his. He watched her, eyes wary, but didn’t make a move to run away. Once she adjusted to meet his eyes straight on, ignoring the subtle scent of soap wafting from him.
She took the lead. He sure as hell wasn’t going to. “I know war isn’t easy. My father and brother both served. Desert Storm and Iraqi Freedom.”
“And...” he pressed.
“And I’ve seen first hand what war can do to a man. To a family.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed and a sort of panic took root in his eyes. He looked like he was seconds away from bolting. Instead of letting him she reached out and clutched his hands in her own. They were hot and a little damp where they rested on top of his thighs.
“You don’t have to be afraid anymore. You’re home now and this is a safe place.”
“Doc. People get shot on the street with no provocation. It’s no safer here than it is over there.”
She shook her head. “No, I mean right here, on this chair, it’s safe.”
He swallowed heavily again, and she waited, giving him room to offer something. Anything.
“I watched my friend Beau die. The Med Evac couldn’t get through and he died, bleeding out in a blood-stained pile of sand.”
She met his eyes and held tight to his hands.
He squeezed them back hard and tight as he spoke the last in a whisper. “I had to tell his wife.”
A single tear curved down his tan cheek, but he didn’t seem to notice. His every word gutted her. She wanted to heal him, take away some of that pain. If he wouldn’t let her do it the way she wanted to maybe she could do it the way he might let her.
She released his hands and cupped his cheeks softly. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered. Then she kissed him. A soft gentle press of lips against lips. Nothing more.
When she pulled back, despite the civility of it her heart jack hammered against her rib cage as if it were trying to break loose from the confines. She’d never kissed a patient before. It was beyond the simple laws of propriety but into the criminal arena. She could lose her job for that one caress.
Fear spiked through her like a baseball cleat to the back of the neck. She didn’t linger but stood and took her chair on the other side of the coffee table’s safe boundary.
She cleared her throat. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about? Or we could talk about Beau some more.”
His friend’s name seemed to snap him out of a trance. His eyes flew wide but instead of speaking he grabbed his head-cover, jumped up from the chair, and left the room with the slam of the door.
What the hell had just happened? His mind reeled as Brock drove home on autopilot, remembering little of the journey. Opening the door to his apartment, he headed straight for the kitchen and grabbed a beer from his fridge before collapsing onto his couch, hoping the drink would cool him down. Rather than taking a drink, however, he simply stared blindly ahead as he replayed the visit.
To say she'd surprised him was an understatement; she had flattened him. First, she had gotten him to talk about Beau, a feat in and of itself. He never spoke about what happened, not even to Jason despite the other man being there. Somehow she had thrown him off balance enough for cracks to appear in his walls. Then she had made the one move he never could have anticipated with that all too brief kiss.
It had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed not to return to the office and take her mouth again. He had already been half hard for her after seeing the changes in her. Those soft lips against his, the sweet taste of her and the press of her warm body against him had sent arousal slamming through him faster than a sniper round. It left him wanting more, much more.
Brock had been moments away from pushing her to her desk and taking all she had to give. Only hearing Beau’s name stopped him in time, snapping him from his lust filled haze. What had he been thinking? She was his therapist for fuck’s sake. She could lose her job of anyone found out there was something between them.
Pausing, he considered that. Was there really something between them? There had to be, though what it was, he wasn't sure exactly. Thinking back to his abrupt departure, he winced. She probably thought he was going to report her. He had to call her, to set the record straight. To find out if she felt the same need he did.
Pulling out his phone, he called Jason, relieved when his friend answered quickly.
“Hey, Brock. How'd your latest session with Dr. Hottie go?”
Anger flared, but he tamped it down. “Don't be an asshole. I need a favor.”
Jason chuckled. “Sure, what do you need?”
“Do you still talk to that guy who can dig up just about any intel?”
“Reese? Yeah, sometimes. Why?”
Brock hesitated, wondering how pissed off Tori was going to be. Then he decided it was worth the risk. “I need you to get a number for me.”
His friend wasn't stupid. Long moments of silence passed before Jason spoke again. “Tell me you're not thinking about calling her.”
Impatient now, Brock took a swig of his beer, struggling to keep himself from snapping. “Can he get it for me or not?”
Jason sighed. “Yeah, I'm sure he can. Do you know what you're doing?”
To be honest, he wasn't sure he did. “Maybe. Thanks man, I owe you one.”
“Yeah, you do. A big one. I'll call you when I have the number. Knowing Reese, it shouldn't take long.”
Hanging up, Brock tossed the phone onto the table and took another drink. Anticipation hummed through him at the thought of hearing Tori’s voice soon, making his dick tighten even more. It had been so damn long since a woman had intrigued him as much as the gorgeous therapist and she was definitely under his skin.
Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the buzz of his phone signaling an incoming call.
“That was fast. Did you get it?”
Jason gave a strained laugh. “Yeah, I told you Reese was good. For the record, I think this is a mistake.”
“Duly noted.”
Brock jotted down the number on an old takeout menu and hung up, staring at the digits until they were emblazoned on his brain. Did he really want to do this? At worst, he could reassure her he wasn't going to screw up her career and leave it at that. At best? Well, that remained to be seen.
Tori only had two more patients before she went home. As she twisted the lock on her door and dropped her bag on the floor, the world lifted off her shoulders. When her brain cleared the only thing in her mind was Brock.
His lips had tasted of mint, even with the barest of kisses. He had smelled like clean soap and that was it. Simple. Pure.
She was afraid to admit how wet that kiss made her. He’d barely responded, and it was more than a liberty to take, but damn it was hotter than some kisses she’d had in her life, a few even completely naked.
She dropped her bag and stripped down to her cami and boy shorts. It was hot outside, and she’d been dreaming of taking her bra off since lunch. When she plopped on the couch, the blanket fell off the back onto her lap and she left it there closing her eyes to the dim light coming from the curtained windows.
It was an early day for her but every bone in her body felt tired. Like she’d been running a marathon and not even realizing it until her mind refused to continue.
Wine called for her but she pushed it out of her head. No. Not tonight. The more she gave into the urge the more it would take over. No wine until she could enjoy a glass without drinking the bottle.
Brock came back to her head. That lopsided grin that said he was better than you and it was best to just accept it. And yet when that tear slid down his cheek, and genuine emotion shone in his eyes, he looked younger, vulnerable, gentle even. A far cry from the man who walked into her office declarin
g her job lunacy.
The phone rang loudly from the corner of the room. She didn’t want to get it but it could be a patient emergency. With a groan she stood up and grabbed it off its cradle before sitting down again.
“Hello?”
“Is this Doctor Davidson?”
She knew that voice. It shot through her like a rubber band ricochet. “This is she.”
“This is Sergeant Turner.”
“I know, how did you get this number?”
He chuckled low and soft. “I have connections.”
She didn’t know what troubled her more: that he was calling her or that he was able to get her personal information with seemingly little effort.
“Um... Brock. Why are you calling?”
His tone instantly sobered. “You know why.”
That kiss, that barely there kiss. Damn. She cleared her throat. “Look, Brock...”
“Don’t start Doc. I have something to say this time.”
She clamped her mouth shut. Was he going to turn her in for misconduct?
As if reading her mind he spoke. “I’m not going to tattle on you, Doc. Don’t worry. I just want to talk for a second. If you don’t like what I’m saying then you hang up and we never speak of this again.”
She swallowed and waited..
“I don’t know what you went through with your family. I only know my own shit. But what I do know is when you kissed me today something lifted. Like a boulder had been sitting on my lungs and I didn’t know it.”
Her chest felt tight, and she wanted to speak but kept quiet for fear he’d stop talking. His voice in the phone was something else altogether, deep, erotic, sensual.
“I guess what I want to say is that I know that it’s not proper to have something between us but I want...”
He stopped. Silence stretched through the line until she couldn’t stand it anymore.
“What do you want, Brock?”
A shuffle. More silence.
“Brock?”
Then a whisper. “You. Just you. You’re not only beautiful but something about you eases me. I can’t explain it.”
She loosened her grip on the phone she’d been clutching hard enough to turn her knuckles white. What did she say to that? The resignation she’d typed up the day before sat on her coffee table. She couldn’t lie to herself, part of her wanted him too. Not in the I-just-want-to-help-you kind of way, but the bend-me-over-something-now sort. But did she want him because sleeping with him would mean she could finally force herself to quit a job she hated? Or because she actually wanted him.
There was only one way to find out. “Meet me at my office tomorrow. Early please before nine. We can discuss this further.”
A chuckled came from his end. “Yes, Ma’am.”
The rational part of his brain told him he should turn around and head back to his apartment. That part could go to hell. He was tired of making calculated decisions for the good of others. It was time to make one for himself. Maybe this was going to be a mistake, but maybe it would turn out to be one of the smartest things he had ever done.
With every step he took toward her, fire built in his blood. All too soon, he stood outside of the door, considering the formal lettering of her name. Brock wondered if she would regret agreeing to meet him like this. He hoped not, but there was no telling what was going through her mind. She stood to lose more than he did; he couldn’t blame her if she wanted to back out.
The door swung open, halting his racing thoughts. Tori arched an eyebrow, her expression amused “Were you planning on coming in any time soon?”
Desire slammed into him. Her hair was down today, tousled around her face as if she had just gotten out of bed. She wore a black pencil skirt that perfectly accentuated her long legs and her light pink blouse was unbuttoned low enough to show tease at her cleavage.
Clearing his throat, Brock moved forward into her office, unsure of whether he should make the first move. As he sat on the chair, she closed the door and he caught the faint click as she turned the lock.
Tori perched herself on the chair across from him and smiled. “Thank you for coming so early. Is there anything you want to discuss first?”
“I do want to apologize for taking the liberty of acquiring your number. For the record, however, I don’t apologize for calling you.”
The soft chuckle she released went straight to his groin, tightening almost to the point of pain. “It was a surprise to say the least. I’m glad you called, though,” she said, leaning toward him slightly and giving him a view of beautiful breasts.
“You’ve managed to get into my head, Doc. More than anyone ever has.”
She smiled in satisfaction. “Is that so? Tell me more.”
Brock decided it was time to up the ante on her. “What would you say if I told you that after we spoke, I jerked off while imagining it was your hand wrapped around my dick, stroking and squeezing?”
Her breath caught and her pupils dilated. Good. He wanted her every bit as turned on as he was. Rising from the chair, he moved around the table and leaned over her, bracing his hands on the arms of her chair. His eyes never left hers as he leaned down to brush his lips along the curve of her ear.
“Did you touch yourself last night, Doc? Did you think of me while you ran your fingers through your wetness? Did you picture what it might feel like to feel my hands on your skin?”
With each of his whispered questions, her breath came faster and he could see her hands clenched in her lap. Emboldened, he reached up to her blouse and began to unbutton the fabric, going slowly to give her a chance to protest. She remained silent.
“Do you want me to touch you, Tori? I want to hear you say the word.”
One heartbeat passed, then another. Finally, she gave him what he needed to hear. “Yes.”
Refusing to give her time to change her mind, his mouth took hers, one hand rising to cup her breast. His thumb brushed over her pebbled nipple and she moaned, her own arms coming around him to pull him closer, the movements frantic. Finally, he would have her.
A million reasons why she shouldn’t do this cascaded through Tori’s mind. But only one reason why she should broke through the fragments: she honestly didn’t want to stop.
“Stand up, Doc.”
He pulled her to her feet by gently lifting her palms in his. When she stood she teetered on her heels but he didn’t let her fall, circling her waist with an arm as if they meant to share a dance.
“Careful,” he whispered only an inch away from her mouth. The syllables brushed air across the sensitive flesh.
Fuck it. There was no going back now. She swallowed the last of her reservations and yanked him by the uniform top to the desk. The one she’d already begun cleaning out. This was a perfect way to say goodbye to an office she hated, a job she hated, a life she hated.
He didn’t need directions, lifting her gently up onto the edge of the desk without any prompting. “Had a lot of practice at this?” she asked.
He smiled like a blackjack dealer who rigged the game. “I don’t know what you mean, Doc.”
To that she ripped the hook and loops on his top apart and yanked the zipper down so she could push the heavy material off his arms. His biceps were tanned and flexed tight as he braced his weight on his fists on either side of her hips. She took the opportunity to look him over. Not that she hadn’t before but damn he was built. Most men came back from deployment in great shape. Not much to do but workout.
Before she could work her hands down his abs, he gently flicked open the top button of her blouse. Then the next. And the next. Until the line of her abdomen was bared to him. She liked to keep in shape too, running had long been a solace, when she wasn’t cuddling a wine bottle.
He pulled her blouse from her skirt and then off her arms. Only the black lace of her bra hiding her bare breasts from him. He swirled thumbs around each nipple and she let her head drop back drowning in the sensation of being touched.
“I’m not
going to lie to you, Doc, it’s been awhile for me. I might not last long but I’ll make it good for you.”
She looked up at him realizing his hands were now on his belt buckle. He expertly opened it and then his fly. Seeing his lack of underwear was a surprise, but then, she’s all but invited him here for sex.
She didn’t want to wait anymore. Reaching out she cupped him in her hand, circling her palm around every thick perfect inch of him. The accompanying groan he let out trickled through her straight to her clit.
“Careful, Doc, or I’ll come in your hand.”
Hearing him utter the word pushed her too far. She released his cock and jerked her skirt up around her hips. He needed to be inside her. All of him. Now. Somewhere she might have uttered a please and passed him a condom but she couldn't exactly remember. All that mattered was filling that void that seemed to ache with wanting him.
“Hold still for me, Doc.” he whispered in her ear.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him in an attempt to get him as deep and as far as she could.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.”
As he filled her up she let out a sigh of relief. But it didn’t help. She shifted legs around his hips urging him to move and he let out a soft laugh before pulling away gently. BUt she didn’t want gentle. She wanted it hard and fast and rough. She wanted a little pain. She wanted to remember this.
Instead of telling him what she wanted she brushed her lips on his t-shirt before biting down on the curve of his shoulder. He let out an indistinguishable curse.
“Is that how you want it?”
He pulled out of her, and flipped her around, her bare ass in the air. Yes.
She held onto the far side of the desk as he entered her once more but this time he didn’t take her slowly, he marked her, claimed her with each pound of their bodies against the worn wood. Only her bunched up skirt against her belly saved her from the bruising.
His fingers dug into the soft part of her hips and she thrust her ass back with each brutal intrusion.
