Chapter 10
IMPROPER
Jack
By the end of the session, Kira knew the basics, but not the truth.
I wasn’t going to pony that up to someone I hadn’t even intended to spill a single word to.
She was nice enough, a good listener, and asked questions that didn’t make me want to squirm, as I’d suspected I’d feel being in a therapist’s office for the first time.
But I’d be lying to the world if I said my mind was here between these four walls.
I was elsewhere, trying to wrap myself around why it felt weird to want to see Michelle again.
Or really, why it didn’t feel weird. Maybe that’s what was so off-kilter.
Michelle didn’t know the details of my reason for this visit, but she knew I needed help, and that should bother me. I’ve always been a private man.
Growing up in a home that wasn’t known for talking it out, or hugging it out either, I’d learned to deal with everything inside my head.
But oddly enough, it didn’t bother me that Michelle knew I was seeing a therapist. And that was information only Casey was privy to.
Maybe that’s why wanting more of Michelle didn’t feel as strange as it should. She already knew I had crap to deal with; I didn’t have to pretend with her that I was New York City’s most eligible bachelor.
Clearly, I wasn’t.
I had a hunch I didn’t ever have to be that guy with her.
I relished the freedom I’d felt last night in letting go of what everyone thought they knew about me.
I had enjoyed being Just Jack. I wanted to be that guy again.
I wanted to see her again. I wanted to get to know the woman behind the pencil skirt, the sharp blouse and the black high heels.
The combo was like a straight shot of heat to my groin.
“So, do you think you’ll want to keep coming?”
Kira wanted to know if I was game for more therapy. Hell if I knew. “Sure,” I said, noncommittal as I committed.
After she said a quick goodbye and shut the door, I homed in on the stairwell, covered two flights, and headed to the first office I’d been in, knocking sharply on the wood.
In seconds, Michelle opened the door.
“Do you have an appointment right now?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Good,” I said, stepping inside, clicking the door shut, and locking it behind us.
Michelle
“Do you like Italian?”
I scrunched up my brow at the question, but connected the dots as I sat down. The last text he’d sent was about dinner.
“I do,” I said, because it was the truth, and because it didn’t commit me.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to continue this thing—whatever it was—with him.
I wasn’t sure about anything, except the fact that he looked good at three o’clock in the afternoon when his five o’clock shadow seemed to start.
Add in that dark hair that had felt so luxurious in my fingers, the chiseled cheekbones and the slightly loosened tie, and I’d have to say he seemed like a man who’d stepped off the pages of a magazine.
He took another step closer. “I made a reservation.”
“Where?” I asked, feeling a bit like we were having this conversation on another plane of reality. Then again, the last few hours had me feeling like I’d slipped into another world.
“There’s a place near Madison Square Park. It has bocce ball and the best—”
“Pasta primavera in all of New York.”
He raised an eyebrow as I cut in, finishing his sentence.
“Restaurants are my thing,” I said by way of explanation. I loved researching New York’s best eateries, both the newest chichi ones, the off-the-beaten-path spots, and the best-kept secrets in dining.
“Then you’ll go with me to Gia’s tonight,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
It was a statement, and the way his cool blue eyes held my gaze made it clear he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
I tilted my head, considering. The conundrum was this—I wasn’t a woman who was turned on by a lack of choices, but I was a woman turned on by this man.
And I hadn’t seen this particular give-a-woman-an-order side of him.
Didn’t know I’d like it so much. The commanding tone to his rich, deep voice was like a note held long and lasting on a bass guitar. And it made me feel like this…
“Yes.”
Because it turned out, I liked this side of him.
With Jack, I was keenly aware of my body. I’d never been so attuned to it before, but every bone, cell and nerve seemed to be on high alert near him.
But there was that little matter of ethics. My office was private. My next patient wouldn't be coming in for another hour. I scanned the room—all my files were safely locked up, so I was protecting my other clients.
As he moved closer though, I put everything else out of my mind.
I remained still, seated in my chair, facing him.
He crossed the remaining distance and placed his palms on the arms of the chair, his chest inches from me, but not touching.
The air between us was like an electrical storm in the summer.
Charged, heated, and ready to crackle with a lightning strike in seconds.
“Did you think about me when I was with Kira?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice bare and truthful.
“Did you look me up online?”
Another nod.
“What did you learn?” he asked, never looking away or breaking the gaze. The man radiated intensity. I could picture him in a boardroom, owning a negotiation. Winning all the points in his favor without breaking a sweat.
“What do you think I learned?” I tossed back.
“What the media says about me.”
“I don’t care what they say,” I said firmly, and his gaze drifted down to my throat. He stared at the exposed skin peeking above the top button of my silk blouse.
“What do you care about, then?”
“I want to know how you can be in the business you are and have intimacy issues,” I said, reaching my hand to his chin and forcing him to look up again.
“Why should I tell you? I’m not your patient anymore,” he said, but there was teasing now in his tone. The toughness was drifting away.
“But that’s why you’re here. In this office. Needing a therapist.”
“And that’s why I’m seeing another therapist. For my intimacy issues,” he said with a scoff.
“Besides, why does my job have any bearing on my life outside of the office? Are you the same person in here that you were with me last night? Or did you show me another side?” he said, and brushed the back of his fingers against my cheek.
My eyes floated closed as my breath fled, and one thing was clear: I wasn’t the same person.
I was a different woman with him. A wanted woman. And it felt so good, especially as his breath ghosted over my neck and he whispered in my ear, “Did you touch yourself when I was in there?”
“No,” I said.
“Not even a little?”
I shook my head, glad that my eyes were closed because surely they’d give away this lie. He reached for my hand, and brought it to his mouth, drawing my index finger between his lips. My eyes snapped open.
“I bet this finger was between your legs,” he whispered, disarming me.
My lips parted, but no words came out.
“And I bet you didn’t finish the job.”
“I barely touched myself,” I admitted defensively, skin heating up all over.
His eyes darkened, and he groaned appreciatively. “When you barely touched yourself, were you thinking about me?”
“Yes.”
“And were you thinking about me as your patient?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Were you thinking about me as the man who wants to fuck you again?”
That was it. My shoulders trembled, and lust took over. “Oh god,” I gasped, and my body belonged to him. I desperately wanted some kind of relief from the way I ached everywhere, desire pounding inside me, ready to escape.
“Because that’s who I want to be with you, beautiful,” he said, loosening his tie further. Then he moved his hands to my knees. Moaning the second he made contact, I was almost embarrassed that this simplest kind of touch had my pulse racing.
He dropped to his knees, pushed up my skirt, and spread my legs open. “I have unfinished business with your pussy,” he growled, as he dragged a finger across the outside of my panties.
His blue eyes were hungry, and he looked as if he wanted to devour me.
He lowered his head between my legs, buzzing a hot trail along my thigh.
The temperature rose in me so high, I was sure I was giving off heat waves.
He kissed the inside of my legs, teasing me as he slowly made his way closer to where I wanted him.
“Jack,” I moaned.
“Yes?” he asked, as he continued taking my hormones hostage with his sinful mouth.
“You’re teasing me.”
“I know,” he said, sounding wickedly pleased. “I told you I would, since you denied me last night.”
“I’m not denying you now.”
He moved his mouth from my leg to the wet panel of my panties, planting a kiss on the fabric that had me throbbing. “So many things I want to do to this beautiful pussy. So many ways I want to make you come,” he mused and my skin sizzled from the way he talked to me.
“I want you to make me come,” I said, spearing my fingers in his soft dark hair, pulling him closer to the place where he could soothe the ache.
He slid a finger underneath the fabric, touching my hot flesh at last. I cried out, then covered my mouth with my hand.
“Be quiet, Michelle. Even with the noise machine, I’m going to make you come so fucking hard they might hear you in Brooklyn,” he said, and I was about to call him a cocky bastard, but then he yanked my panties aside and pressed his lips to my wetness.
I couldn’t say cocky bastard, because I could no longer form words. I couldn’t think. I could barely breathe. All I could do was feel.
And I felt like I was flying, soaring into a new stratosphere of boundless pleasure as he swept his tongue through my wetness, groaning as he licked me.
“You taste so fucking good,” he said, then returned to flicking his tongue against my clit.
“What do I taste like?” I asked, because no one had ever talked to me this way.
No one had sung my praises like this man, and I was greedy.
He was like dessert without the calories.
He was cake and chocolate and everything delicious in the universe.
I wanted more, and I had no problem asking for it.
“Like sex,” he murmured. “You taste like hot sex.”
I gasped, and shoved a hand through my hair, my head hitting the back of the chair as my body melted.
I was completely losing myself to the way he touched me.
To the intensity of his mouth. To the rhythm of his tongue.
He slid his hands under my thighs, gently lifting my legs over his shoulders.
I belonged to him like this, spread wide in my office, being licked and kissed and sucked by this man who knew exactly what to do to me.
This man, whose touch said he craved every inch of me. I was in ecstasy both from the sheer physical intensity of the moment, and from what it meant to me to be wanted like this.
He pulled back for a second to glance up. His eyes blazed darkly. He looked like a man who’d been feasting. “I want you to come on me,” he said in a low, raspy voice. “Let me feel you all over my face. I can’t get enough of you.”
I was nearly there, and I began matching his movements, rocking faster into his mouth as he returned to my core, caressing me with his talented tongue, kissing me with his fantastic lips, and sending me to the brink as he cupped my ass tightly in his hands.
His fingers dug into my soft flesh, gripping my cheeks.
As if he couldn’t get close enough to me.
He went down on me like a man obsessed. As if he wanted to drink me in, to lap me up, to consume me.
I gladly let myself be consumed by Jack as he took me over the edge.
I gave him everything. All of my pleasure. All of my body, as I did what he asked for, coming hard on his face.
Jack
“I trust that’s a yes to Gia’s?”
I was teasing, of course. She’d already given her yes.
But she gave it again as she breathed out hard while nodding.
Her eyes were glassy. She looked so damn sexy that all I wanted was to bury my face between her legs again.
But restraint was the most powerful aphrodisiac of all.
And I knew how to use it. I knew how to play with denial.
I planned to. But first, I needed to sort out tonight.
She was the only woman I’d wanted to spend any time with since Aubrey had died, which meant I needed to do this right.
“Meet me there at eight,” I said as I tightened the knot in my tie.
“Yes.”
“Oh, and you might want to straighten up before your next appointment. You look like a woman who’s been fucked properly.”
“But you didn’t fuck me properly, Jack,” she said, as she adjusted her skirt.
I buttoned one of the buttons on her blouse, savoring the soft feel of her skin beneath my fingertips, and the way she shivered from my touch.
God, she was so utterly sensual. I wanted to do everything to her.
I wanted to explore every inch of her body with my hands, my lips, my tongue, my cock, and with a whole treasure chest of toys.
I wanted to give her every kind of orgasm imaginable.
To bring her all the bliss in the universe.
“When I fuck you again, there will be nothing proper about it,” I said in a low voice, leaving her with that hint of what I might do.