by Hill, Sierra
Shit. What the hell is happening?
The thought hammered into her brain, bringing her back from the haze of pleasure she had been submerged in. Without thought or hesitation, Rylie drew back sharply, slapping him hard across the jaw. He staggered back, protesting with a groan as she pushed him out of her way, nearly sending him to the ground. He rubbed his jaw as his face reflected a look of bemusement. Remembering her case of beer, she picked it up and ran to her car, leaving him gaping at her sudden departure.
Opening the door and jumping into the driver seat, her hands trembling with adrenaline, she fit the key into the ignition and turned on the car.
Rylie had never before run from anything or anyone in her life, but all she could think of at the moment was flight - getting the hell of out there and putting as much distance between her and Mitch Camden as possible.
Her heart pounded as if she had just run a marathon and her thoughts clouded with the reality of what just happened. She was just kissed, deeply and satisfyingly, creating an insatiable need within her that she’d never known was there. And it was planted there by one of her patients. Something against all of her rules and moral conduct and an action that could never, ever, happen again. She wouldn’t let it. She had more control over herself than this, Rylie chastised herself, as she pushed the accelerator to the floor and sped off.
CHAPTER four
Mitch was both amused and a bit dazed, and slightly pained, as he rubbed the spot on his jawbone where she clocked him, reflecting on what just occurred. Had Rylie really just run off like a frightened schoolgirl? Come to think of it, this was twice now she’d run off on him. That was a first for him and it put him in foreign territory.
Most women he’d charmed over the last fifteen years would have eagerly followed a kiss like that with a trip to bed, allowing him easy access to their carnal pleasures. No chasing required. And he’d never been with a woman who reacted so instantaneously with that much passion, returning his kiss as sensually as Rylie just did, just to turn so cold so quickly on him. He was left there in a haze of confusion, standing there looking like an idiot with an unsatisfied erection.
Mitch had no clue what was going through Rylie’s mind when she took off. All he did know was she was pure passion, bottled up in a package made for pleasure. Her kiss was like warm honey, hot and sweet. The heat that emanated from her body and scorching kiss was enough to drive him over the edge. It was all he could do to control himself and not reach out and caress every part of her body, starting with her luscious breasts. He felt her nipples harden as they pressed up against his chest, her breasts full and ripe. All he had wanted was to throw her T-shirt over her head and take one of her firm breasts into his greedy, wet mouth and relish in its erotic luxury. Damn the parking lot!
Wanting nothing more than to drive after her, Mitch instead hobbled into his car and cursed, turning to drive in the opposite direction. He was due at Jackson’s home a few blocks away and was already fifteen minutes behind. During the drive, he quickly collected his thoughts and his breath resumed to its normal rhythm.
Mitch reflected back to the passionate exchange just minutes earlier and his sheer surprise to Rylie’s immediate and fiery response to his kiss. What he’d half expected to get was a fast punch in the gut, or even worse, his balls. Instead, he was caught off guard by her intense physicality and heated desire. He had wanted to kiss her sassy mouth since the night in the bar, when she was spouting her wisdom on football history. She was sexy as hell and it turned him on. But he didn’t have a chance before she left him hanging, leaving him and his invalid ass to dream about her. He had hoped he’d have the chance again, but didn’t realize it would be so soon. Never one to forgo a second chance, Mitch found the opportunity and took it.
Now armed with this newfound knowledge of her feisty temperament and fiery physical touch, Mitch was eagerly anticipating his appointment with Rylie the next day. He chuckled, thinking of the way she sprinted back to her car and peeled out of the parking lot, like a bat out of hell. His appointment could turn out to be very interesting. Interesting, indeed.
Pulling in to the driveway, Mitch turned off the car and grabbed his crutches, honking the horn to alert his friend of his arrival. At the front door of his Spanish-style Colonial, Jackson Koda emerged from the house wearing a 49er’s jersey and jeans, sans socks or shoes, making his way to the driver’s side of Mitch’s car.
“Took you long enough, ya gimp. These things putting a crimp in your strut?” Jackson joked, motioning to the crutches and slapping Mitch on the back as Mitch rounded the side of the car. “How ya doing, hop-a-long?”
“Why don’t you stop being a dickhead and help a brother out here.”
“Touchy, touchy. Are you sure you don’t need a psychologist instead of a physical therapist, you puss?” Grabbing the bag from the car floor, Jax shut the car door and lead the way to his front porch. Opening the door and stepping aside, he let Mitch enter first, following close behind him.
For a bachelor, Mitch was always impressed with Jax’s skills in decorating. To the point where he razzed him on a regular basis for his ‘feminine instincts’. Muted colored walls allowed for his bold taste in artwork to capture the warmth of his large first floor entry and family room. A Spanish tiled floor and kitchen, with a wine bar area next to the TV room. Mitch and his buddies spent a good deal of time at Jax’s, watching football and soccer, playing billiards in his downstairs man cave, and hosting plenty of pool parties out back, where there was never a shortage of women.
Mitch and Jax had never had much trouble in that area, dating back to their sophomore year in college, when they met and became friends. It was Jax who helped bring Mitch’s business plan to fruition, being the financial wizard behind his investments. Jax was the Eduardo Saverin to Mitch’s Mark Zuckerberg, minus the Facebook technology or the legal woes that drove the Internet moguls apart. Where Mitch went on to get his Master’s in Business, Jax became an attorney, and after passing the bar, he joined his friend as his counsel, a man he trusted with his assets and his life’s work.
Mitch and Jax were night-and-day different, but their friendship had endured over the years and continued to grow stronger. Mitch relied on Jax to keep his investments and projects on track and could count on him to give him the truth, even when he didn’t want to hear it.
Plopping down on the plush brown leather chair and propping his leg up on the wide ottoman, Mitch grabbed the remote to turn on the game. The New England Patriots, whom he had thoroughly despised until now, were playing the Philadelphia Eagles. Tonight’s game winner became even more of an interest to Mitch, as he was curious as to the outcome of tonight’s match-up. There was nothing more he’d love to do than to give Rylie a little grief tomorrow if her favorite team lost against their opponents. It might be sacrilegious to root against the home team, but it would be a hot button for a certain beautiful therapist. It might put her in an even feistier mood with him tomorrow, which he hoped he could use to his advantage to draw out that hot response again. If she got that worked up over a football game, imagine what she’d be like in bed? A tiger, to be sure.
Mitch was lost in his thoughts when Jax set down a bowl of chips, a beer and the open bottle of wine on the table next to him.
“Did you hear me?” Jax asked again, as he got comfortable on the sofa across from the flat-screened TV wall, opening the cap on the beer bottle.
“No, sorry, I was thinking about something else. What’d you say?”
Jax shook his head, squeezing a small crevice of lime in his beer before taking a swig. “I asked how the knee’s doing? Do you think you’ll be ready for our mid-winter ski trip to Telluride in January? Or should we head to Cabo instead?”
Mitch knew his friend always preferred the warmer, tropical climates to snow any day of the week. In a sense, he didn’t blame him, considering the women were bikini-clad on the beaches of Mexico versus the fifty layers of clothing they wore on the ski slopes. His friend wasn’t
quite the adventurer that Mitch had become and typically enjoyed a more low-key vacation, where he could read and enjoy the local art scene. Jax was bookish and serious, both in business and his art and hobbies, but never dull. Music was one of his other pastimes. He’d often find a local pub on their trips where he’d spend hours listening to the local musicians, buying them drinks after their gig and getting to know them personally. Had Jax not gone into business with him, Mitch could have easily envisioned him being a talent scout or agent to up-and-coming musical talent. He certainly had the ear for it and was always on the lookout for something new.
“Therapy is okay, better than expected. Looking forward to more of it.”
Jax nearly spit out his beer. “Let me get this straight. You’re happy about physical therapy? Jesus, you’re a sadistic one,” he said incredulously. “I know you believe in all that “no pain, no gain” bullshit, but PT for a torn ALC is no Disneyland, dude, and you’re acting like it’s a walk in the park. I want whatever pain meds you have.”
Mitch grinned at his friend and he raised his eyebrows in exclamation. “Truthfully, the therapy is hell. But the therapist? She is fucking heaven.”
Describing to Jax that Rylie was his impromptu Jeopardy opponent from the bar, he went on to share the story of him running into her at the liquor store and their little make-out session in the parking lot. While he did provide his opinions on how gorgeous she was and her mean left-hook, Mitch failed to describe the sharp electric currents he felt when he touched her or the severe stabs of desire that coursed through him in her presence. That was not something he was ready to share with his long-time friend, as he himself didn’t even understand what it meant. All he could think about, though, was how to find ways to experience more of it.
With the Patriots up by ten at the half, Jax and Mitch sat down over pizza to discuss their newest and by far, largest, business project to date. They were nearly six weeks into the planning for the Kendall project, employing over sixty subs to build a one-hundred-and-twenty-million fully sustainable, eco-friendly, nearly carbon-neutral and completely green complex.
Jax pulled out his tablet and began crunching the numbers, looking through the various contracts that were already signed and the several that were still in the hopper. He then pulled up his calendar and reviewed the various meetings they had scheduled in the coming weeks.
“So how’s this therapy schedule going to work out for you? We have Jensen coming into town Monday and Albertson & Tully site visits in Miami the rest of next week. You good with those plans or should we consider moving the dates back?”
Mitch shook his head as he finished his pizza and poured another glass of the Pinot. “My therapy sessions are scheduled three days a week and if need be, I’ll take the therapist on the road with me when I travel. Shouldn’t be a problem or cause any delays.”
Jax looked up inquisitively. “I’ve never heard of a traveling physical therapist,” he questioned.
“The clinic owner is a friend of Mark’s, so if necessary, I’ll pull some strings. I will not let this be a problem,” he said, pointing to his knee, “Or interfere with our business. Got it?”
If it was one thing Mitch did not look kindly on it was interferences and disruptions. His life was a well-oiled machine and he ensured everything worked like clockwork. That’s one of the reasons why he’d never settled down. Not only were relationships a hassle, but they caused too many unnecessary distractions. From the moment he woke in the morning, which was generally five a.m., his life went according to schedule. It was orderly, efficient and thoroughly planned. Routine in his day-to-day life allowed for more spontaneity in his personal life, which is where he wanted it. He got satisfaction in that, and it was never difficult to find a willing woman to hang on his arm for a few weeks, but never long enough to get close to. He wouldn’t subject himself to loss and heartbreak again. Getting close required opening his heart. The loss of his brother taught him one thing: never let someone in and you won’t get hurt. His close relationships now consisted only of his friendship and partnership with Jax, as well as his mother and father.
As if right on cue, Mitch’s phone rang indicating Mitch Sr. on his display. Clicking the button on the earbud still lodged in his ear, he answered with a brusque greeting.
“Hello Son,” came the rich baritone of his father. “Did I catch you at a good time?”
Mitch laughed, wondering what his father thought he would be doing on a Thursday evening or who he thought he was with. “I’m just over at Jackson’s watching a little football. What’s going on?”
“Ah, good, good! Do give Jackson my regards, we haven’t seen him in ages. Listen, Son, I wanted to talk to you about this upcoming benefit your mother and I are hosting next month. It’s for the Doctors-Without-Borders charity your mother co-chairs. It’s going to be quite the soiree and she wanted me to see if you’d be willing to escort Betsy Stanwood’s daughter, Eleanor. It would mean a great deal to your mother if you would.”
Mitch tried to picture Eleanor, or Elle, as she liked to be called now, but could only drum up images of the chubby, pimple-faced adolescent he remembered being forced to play with when he was twelve. He even recalled the nickname he’d given her at the time – Ellie Smelly. Not only did it rhyme with her name, but she always seemed to be a bit malodorous, leading him to believe she didn’t like to bathe. He shook his head at the memory and the girl he hadn’t thought about for over twenty years.
“Dad, I do have a pretty good track record for getting my own dates for these types of events, if that’s what you’re worried about.” His father chuckled on the other end of the line and then gave a brief sigh before responding.
“I have all the confidence in your abilities to garner your own dates, Son. It’s your mother and her friend Betsy who are concerned for Ellie. She went through a pretty tough divorce recently and needs a little pick-me-up. Surely you can be a gentleman and support her this one evening. For your mother’s sake, if nothing else.”
Mitch groaned inwardly at his father’s mention of Eleanor’s situation. There was nothing fun about an evening with a recent divorcee. For all he knew, she was probably still in the “all men are assholes and deserve to die” stage. Not a classification he ascended to. And then there was the guilt he’d feel for not doing this favor for his mother. A no-win, impossible situation.
Mitch rolled his eyes and inhaled, trying to find his Zen, wanting to appease his parents. They’d always been there for him, even in the aftermath of his brother. He was all they had now and it was his responsibility to be there for them in whatever capacity he could be.
“Sure, Dad. Tell Mom I’ll attend the gala and will be happy to provide my escort services to the embittered and spiteful.”
His father let out an audible sigh, but he could feel him smiling through the phone line. “That’s my boy. I knew you wouldn’t let us down. I’ll give your mother the good news. I’m sure she’ll make all the arrangements and will send you the details. Just make sure to mark the date on your calendar, and don’t forget to wear a tux.” He paused momentarily, a muffled sound of his hand covering the receiver, obviously confirming with his mother the update. Mitch heard a few questions lobbed out by his mother in the background and then his father came back on the line.
“Say now, how’s that knee of yours? Your mother wants to know if you need any help? You know we’re just a hop, skip and a jump away. By the way, will you still be on those crutches during the fundraiser?” Mitch chuckled over his father’s concern. He knew his parent’s loved him and had his best interests at heart, but he also had been brought up to respect appearances and never to embarrass the family. A cripple on crutches at a charity gala they were hosting would certainly raise questions, sending the gossip mill swirling.
Confirming that his therapy was going well and he had plans to be back in fighting shape in a few weeks, he informed his father that they should have no concerns about his well-being or future participation in the
ir rent-a-date. With a sound of relief, Mitch Sr. bid his son goodbye and suggested they lunch when he returned from Miami. Accepting the offer, Mitch said goodbye and ended the call.
“Did I hear you mention a date to a fundraiser? How the hell did they rope you into that?” Jax asked good-naturedly, stealing a look at his friend, who was polishing off the bottle of wine.
“I have no earthly idea,” he said, shrugging his shoulders in a perplexed gesture. “I guess a family friends’ daughter is on the prowl after divorcing and needs a stud date to my parents’ charity event.”
“Huh. I guess your parents figured my social calendar was already booked, being the stud service that I am, so they called you in to sub,” Jax joked smugly. “Plus, with you in less-than-stellar physical form these days, they felt compelled to help your dating life out a little.” He flashed a toothy smile in his friends direction.
“Listen, Mr. Stud…you and I both know my dating life is in no need of any help, with or without crutches.”
And it was with this thought that his mind went back to a certain hot and feisty therapist that had occupied his brain for the last two days. With his appointment set for tomorrow, he had to figure out a way to play up his pain and vulnerability with Rylie so she’d be compelled to cater to his physical needs. He’d have to remember to keep it light and casual, knowing her propensity to run away like a timid colt ready to bolt out the gates when he tried getting too close.
Mitch tried to pinpoint what it was about this woman that had him wound so tightly. His natural proclivity was to gravitate toward women who oozed sensuality and were overtly sexual, giving into his demands and requests, when and how he wanted them. His sense about Rylie was that she could bring a man to his knees and have no idea how she did it. She wasn’t coy or conniving; she didn’t use her body as a vehicle to capture his attention – although it did, every time he was with her.
