by Roni Loren
Lane’s thrusts became quicker and more fervent as he pushed her pleasure higher, not relenting with just the quick burst of an orgasm but dragging it out and transforming it into a whole-body event. She cried out his name, panted through the blinding sensations, and forgot where she was for a second. Lane’s shouts joined hers and he gripped her hips tight before pulling out and painting her backside with his hot release.
Every muscle in her body quaked with aftershocks, and her lungs fought for a deep breath. But never had she felt so damn sated.
She eased the vibrator out, tossing it out of the way, and collapsed bonelessly onto the bed. Lane lay atop her, breathing hard, their bodies sticky and sweaty, but she didn’t care about the mess. She didn’t care about anything else right now but the man on top of her and the way he made her feel.
She turned her head to the side, her vision unfocused and her muscles still twitching with post-orgasm. “Well, that was a passable attempt at sex. I mean, if you’re into that kind of thing.”
Lane laughed softly and kissed the back of her shoulder. “I adore you, Elle McCray.”
She closed her eyes, a sated happiness filling her veins and stirring feelings she hadn’t thought she was capable of anymore. “I adore you back, Lane Cannon.”
Chapter 24
“You want to do dinner?” Elle asked Wednesday morning as she put down her mascara wand and enjoyed the view of Lane standing in her bedroom with just a towel around his waist.
Lane dug through his bag, which he’d been working out of since they’d gotten back from her mom’s on Sunday, and pulled out some fresh clothes. He dropped the towel, offering her a view that had her wanting to tumble back into bed—broad body, hard muscles, ass that was begging to be bitten—but he tugged on his boxer briefs before she could make herself late for work.
Lane ran the towel through his wet hair and turned her way. “Sure, but it might not be until late. I have class most of the day, am supposed to meet with Marin and a new referral this afternoon, and then have a late session with a client. That should wrap up by eight.”
Elle’s stomach dipped. She wasn’t in denial. She was all too aware of what Lane did for a living, but this was the first time since they’d decided to try a relationship that he’d be seeing a client. She wanted to be mature about it. She wanted to act nonchalant. “Involved session?”
She cringed inwardly. Could she be more transparent? Ugh.
He frowned. “You know I can’t share details. But not…intercourse.”
Something loosened in her chest—though didn’t unravel completely. “What percentage of your clients require that…level of intervention?”
He draped the towel around his neck, holding both ends taut. “A smaller percentage than most people would guess. It’s usually a lot of talking, building rapport, developing a comfort level. Often there’s trauma in the past so things progress very slowly and deliberately. Most common issues I see are anxiety around sex, orgasmic disorders, problems with arousal, phobias about sex or their bodies. The majority of my job is giving clients a safe place and patience to tackle those things. Lovers have a tendency to rush their partners even if they’re trying to be understanding about an issue. I’m not there to get off, so I can be as patient and focused as necessary. It’s all about the client, always.”
The clinical breakdown gave her some comfort. She didn’t doubt Lane was a professional, but she also didn’t want to picture him in those sessions with strangers. “A late dinner is fine. I can get takeout from Vincent’s if that works for you.”
He tossed the towel aside and pulled on his pants, his expression a little warier than it had been a minute before. “You know, one day we could try eating in public. I’ve heard it’s all the rage.”
She didn’t miss the dig. He was still worried that she would try to hide their relationship. She wasn’t avoiding a public place per se. They’d just both been busy the last two days. “We can go out. Do you want to meet me here after your late session?”
“I’ll actually be at that dance studio on Collins, so I won’t be on campus. If you want to meet me there around eight, we could find something nearby.”
“Dance studio?”
“Yeah. This case required some out-of-the-office work.”
“Right.” She couldn’t imagine what a dance studio would have to do with anything but he wouldn’t be able to answer any questions without breaking confidentiality. “That works.”
He buttoned his shirt then walked over to her. He cupped her chin and bent to kiss her, the simple connection sending pleasant warmth tracking through her. He leaned back, his gaze holding hers. “You sure you’re okay? Honestly?”
She sighed. “I’m a work in progress on the possessive, jealousy thing.”
He nodded, no censure in his expression, and lowered himself to his haunches so he could be eye to eye. “I know this is asking a lot, doc. I know it’s a weird job, but it is my job. It’s important to me, and I’ve worked hard to get it. I don’t plan on it being a forever thing but it’s a right-now thing. And I like knowing I’m helping people.” He took her hand and sandwiched it between his. “But what I can promise you is that I am absolutely one-hundred percent professional with my clients. I am always safe. I have never had or wanted to have a relationship with a client. I don’t derive sexual pleasure from them. It’s about their issues and how I can help. I imagine it’s similar to if some hot A-list actor has to strip down in your office for an exam. You know how to be a professional. And so do I.”
She took a deep breath and tried to blow out some of the tension. He was right in that she knew how to separate professional and personal modes. Good-looking men got naked for her on the regular at work, but it was clinical. Not sexy at all. However, she was only seeing them naked and examining them, not actually having sex with them like Lane sometimes had to. “I know there’s a difference between work and pleasure for you. But you realize this takes confidence of steel, right?”
He smiled. “I do. I honestly never thought I’d meet any woman who’d be able to accept the job I had, but if any woman can, it’d be you. I don’t think you realize how much every other woman pales in comparison.” He pressed his lips to her knuckles. “You’ve got me on lockdown, doc.”
The words soothed some of the jagged edges inside of her, but her stomach was still knotted. “I’m going to work on getting used to it.”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “And I’m always willing to talk it through. Just promise me you won’t let stuff build up and not tell me. We’re figuring this out as we go along…together. All right?”
She nodded and sighed. “Yes. Together.”
“Good.” He rose to his feet and grabbed his bag. “I’ll see you tonight, doc. Go convince people drugs are bad.”
She sniffed. “Go convince people sex is good.”
He came over and gave her another quick peck. “Thank you.”
Lane headed out and Elle finished getting ready. She wasn’t going to let herself dwell on the conversation or obsess about what he might be doing with his client tonight. Like Lane said, they were figuring this out as they went along. She would see how this felt, how she’d deal with knowing he’d spent time with someone else tonight. Hopefully, she’d be okay with it. If not…well, if not, she had no idea where they would go from here.
She didn’t want to think about it.
Elle walked onto her unit ten minutes late, which raised a number of eyebrows as she passed some of the staff on her way in. She was a notorious stickler for being on time and had been known to give quite a lecture to anyone who was late. But her staff was smart enough to not tease her about her own lack of punctuality this morning. She was definitely not in the mood.
Oriana fell into step beside her as Elle made her way to the office. “Good morning, Dr. McCray.”
“Morning,” she said, keeping her gaze forward as she scanned the unit, taking quick inventory of who was awake already this morning and who wa
sn’t. The early birds tended to be the ones doing better with treatment. “How are things?”
“A little unsettled,” Ori said, handing her a stack of manila folders. “According to the night staff, Belinda threatened Jeremy at late-night group and he spit in her face. Some other residents got involved in the altercation, so everyone had to be sent to their rooms for the rest of the evening.”
“Anyone injured?”
“Nothing but a few scratches,” she reported. “I’ve talked to a few from the group this morning. Jeremy seems to have been the main instigator. He’s blaming his meds for his outburst. Says we’re ‘fucking with his head.’ His words.”
Elle opened the file and scanned down Jeremy’s list of medications, noting that none of them were known to cause violent outbursts. “So he’s blaming that and not the withdrawals from the amphetamines he’s been subsisting on for two years or the fact that his wife just left him?”
“Basically.”
She took a pen from her pocket and scribbled a note in the file. “I’ll put him on my schedule for this afternoon. I doubt it’s the meds but I’ll talk to him, check for any other side effects. If he wants to try a different combo, there are some options.”
“Thanks.” Oriana paused outside of Elle’s office and faced her. “Also, Dr. Rush stopped by to talk with you about Jun. I had referred her to the X-wing.”
“Right. I saw that in the notes.”
“Dr. Rush had two sessions with her and wants to run some potential treatment options by you, make sure they don’t interfere with Jun’s plan over here.”
Elle tried not to blanch. She and Dr. Rush had learned to work together, but their shared history with Donovan always carried a layer of awkwardness neither of them could escape. “She’s waiting now?”
Ori jerked her thumb toward the door. “She’s inside. She said it wouldn’t take long.”
Elle sighed. “Okay. I’ll speak with her. Any other fires right now?”
Ori smiled. “None that I can’t handle.”
“Good.” She had full confidence in Oriana. The woman was a brilliant social worker and didn’t let any of the patients manipulate her, which was saying something. Addicts were often skilled at the con to begin with, but add award-winning performance skills to the mix with their clientele and even the most seasoned professional could fall into a trap. “Let me know if anything else comes up.”
“Will do. And Dr. McCray?” she asked, concern flickering across her features.
“Yeah?”
Ori lifted a shoulder in an awkward shrug, which was odd because the woman was usually as comfortable and casually elegant as one could be. “I know it’s none of my business, but is everything all right? You’ve seemed…different lately. Distracted.”
Elle stiffened.
“I know working here can feel like a boarding school sometimes. Clique-y, you know?” She shrugged again. “So I just wanted to put it out there that even though you’re my boss, if you ever wanted to grab a drink after work or chat about something other than work, I’m game. I’ve found it helps to have friends here. We get how hard this job can be. And how isolating living out here in the bayou can get. So I…just wanted to put that out there.”
Elle stared at her for a moment. Her initial instinct was to brush off the offer. That was her standard go-to when she’d first started working here and people had offered to socialize. I like to keep my work and home life separate. She didn’t want to build bonds, get attached, make things more complicated. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
She liked Oriana, respected her. And Elle knew what kind of reputation she had developed around here. Approaching her prickly boss with this brand of kindness was a big risk for Oriana. She was reaching out. And not to kiss the boss’s ass or to get gossip on her. She could see it in her face, the open expression, the offered hand. This was genuine.
I’d like to get to know you. I’d like to be a friend.
The offer touched something inside Elle that made her throat go tight and words burst out. “I’m dating Lane Cannon.”
Ori’s eyebrows jumped up. “Oh.”
Elle put her fingers to her lips, surprised that the statement had escaped. “Shit. That wasn’t what I meant to say.”
Oriana grinned. “That wasn’t what I expected you to say, but I guess that explains why you’re acting differently. And explains a whole lot about what I saw that day in your office.”
Elle shook her head and rubbed her brow. “I guess I just needed to say it aloud to someone.”
Ori tipped her head to the side, her dark halo of hair making her look like an angel with a secret. “I’m honored I get to be your confessor today. Lane seems great.”
“He is.”
“And your secret’s safe with me.”
Elle nodded. “Thanks.” She should’ve told her it didn’t have to be a secret anymore. There was nothing forbidden. Lane wasn’t in her department or a direct report, so she didn’t need any kind of special approval. But she couldn’t quite say the words. “And I’ll definitely take you up on an after-work drink sometime.”
Ori’s face brightened. “Excellent.”
She cocked her head toward her closed door. “I better stop making Dr. Rush wait.”
Ori lifted her hand in a good-bye and headed toward the group room. Elle turned around, took a breath, and stepped inside her office. Marin Rush was in the chair across from Elle’s desk, texting on her phone, a secret smile on her face and a little flush on her cheeks.
She was probably texting with Donovan. Elle waited for the jolt of jealousy to go through her, but nothing came. She felt…nothing about the two of them being together. Huh.
“Good morning, Dr. Rush.”
Marin glanced up, turning her phone over in her lap, and her expression smoothed into a polite, professional one. “Dr. McCray.”
“Oriana said you needed to speak with me,” Elle said in a measured tone as she took her seat behind her desk.
“Yes. I apologize for barging in on you first thing, but both of our schedules are crazy today. I thought we could squeeze in ten minutes before the chaos began.”
Elle straightened a row of pens on her desk. “What can I help you with?”
Marin tucked her phone in her jacket pocket and linked her fingers around her crossed knees. “Jun Alexis.”
“Okay.”
“I had two sessions with Jun over the past week. I usually try to delay any treatment on my wing until the clients over here have fully completed your program, but Oriana told me that Jun’s sexual issues are deeply intertwined with her substance abuse issues, and she doesn’t expect Jun to come back for separate treatment once her time in rehab is up. I wanted to see how open she’d be to talking with me.”
Elle flipped open a legal pad and wrote down the date and Jun’s name. “How’d the sessions go?”
“Promising, actually. She opened up about an assault a few years ago, one that happened before she became well-known. After a show at a club one night, she got attacked by two guys who’d attended. Apparently, her stage performance was provocative and they felt like she’d offered them the invitation by paying attention to them during the song.”
Elle frowned. “I knew there’d been a rape, but she hasn’t shared the details with any of us yet. She insisted it wasn’t relevant to her current situation and wouldn’t go there.”
“Yeah, I get the impression that she doesn’t want to give the rapists that much credit—that they affected her enough to drive her to drugs. But after the assault, she pretty much locked the incident away. Didn’t press charges. Didn’t tell anyone. And apparently, she amped up the sexual tone in her stage show, like she was…I don’t know.”
“Giving the assholes a big fuck you.”
Marin’s smile was grim. “Something like that. Almost like a dare to prove that they hadn’t changed her. But shortly after that is when she started experimenting with drugs. She’s only slept with people while under the
influence since then and can’t orgasm, even on her own.”
“So they stole even more from her,” Elle said, anger sparking on Jun’s behalf.
Marin nodded, frustration on her face. “It’s horrible, and I hate that the disgusting human beings who did this to her just went on with their lives unscathed. But like you said, when Jun was first admitted, she didn’t want to acknowledge the sexual issues from the trauma as a problem. She only wanted to focus on the substance abuse.”
“But she was willing to talk to you,” Elle said, impressed that Marin had gotten Jun to open up. “Any idea what changed her mind?”
“Ori’s encouragement for one,” she replied. “But that’s not the only thing. She ran into Lane over here one day. Jun said he put her at ease and made the whole prospect of sex therapy seem less scary. So if she could work with him on the issue, she said she’d be open to trying.”
Elle’s fingers gripped her pen so hard she heard the plastic casing creak, but she fought to keep her expression stoic. “Is someone with Lane’s specialization usually needed in this type of case?”
Marin shifted in the chair, expression thoughtful. “Lane’s strength is working with anxious clients, so that’s a good fit. He’s also experienced with arousal disorder. He could teach her some techniques, provide a safe environment.”
“Have sex with her, you mean,” Elle said flatly.
A small frown touched Marin’s mouth. “That would depend on the treatment plan he created. Intercourse could be part of it. But Jun would have to be on board with that, which may take a while with her anxiety from the trauma.”
Elle couldn’t stop the sick feeling from rising in the back of her throat. “Right.”
Marin’s brow wrinkled, her frown deepening at Elle’s clipped tone. “Look, I know that kind of therapy can be controversial and not everyone buys into it. But if you’re worried about that, I can assure you that Lane has helped a lot of people and he’s very good—”
