his naked upper half a touch away—than thoughts of the outside world, she asked, “Why Ecstasy?”
He ate a forkful of hash browns before looking over. Where his attitude had been sedate from the moment he’d left her in the bedroom, lust was in his eyes now, alive and sizzling hot. “Let’s just say we believe in alternative healing.”
Warmth rushed through Claire with the implication. “Alternative?”
He gave a curt nod, his lips tipping up at the corners, and the air between them seemed to spark about ten degrees hotter. Jesus, she really needed to indulge her sex drive more often. Maybe next time she would agree to let Erin hook her up with a gigolo instead of the therapist type.
Or had her sister already as good as done that?
She shivered with the thought, not from fear but anticipation. “You mean sex?”
His gaze narrowed. “You don’t like sex, or why are you trembling?”
“I love sex.” Was even now considering just how good his cock would feel sliding into her when he swept aside their plates and glasses to do her on the bar.
As if he could read her mind, the heat returned to his eyes. His gaze shifted to her breasts, giving them another of those all-but-panty-evaporating leers. “Then what’s the problem, sweetheart?”
Her nipples peaked against the soft cups of her bra, answering the question without a sound. Since her famished pussy wasn’t likely to be the problem he had in mind, Claire improvised. “I’m a recluse who, up until last night, hadn’t set foot out of her apartment in months. Last night it was by coercion and, no doubt, some drug cocktail. What do you think the problem is?”
“The sedative you were given was very mild and all natural.” Teasing glinted in his eyes as they returned to hers, and a shallow cleft came out to play amidst his chin stubble. “A lot like the sex you love. The natural part, at least. You don’t strike me as a woman who goes for the mild, in bed or out of it.”
Something about his expression—maybe how wet it suddenly had her—made one thing clear. He might not have a degree in psychology, but he knew precisely how to get into a woman’s head…and panties. “You aren’t cheap, are you?”
He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Depends who’s asking.”
Oh, yeah, he knew what he was about. “I mean your services. Erin, my well-meaning PITA of a sister, said your fees were minimal. That was a lie, wasn’t it? She paid a buttload to have me brought here.”
“Not that much so far.” His arm connected with hers at the shrugging of his shoulders, and the subtle brush was like the most intimate caress. He felt it, too; she could see the flicker of sensual awareness cross his face. “Ecstasy requires half pay up front,” he continued in a voice even raspier than usual. “If our client’s time on the island proves successful, the rest is due upon their return home. If they go home with the same fears they had when they came here, they don’t pay another dime.”
“Do you work on commission?”
“I get part of the half that’s paid after the fact.”
Bummer for him, he wouldn’t be getting it this time around. He might be good at his job, but it was highly doubtful he could erase the effects of The Incident in a matter of days or even weeks. Would it be so wrong to throw in a consolation prize to offset his monetary loss? Celebrate her first post-incident trip outside the apartment and the fact she’d lived to be upset with Erin about it by ending her sexual dry spell? This could be her only chance to have a lover this year.
Or the rest of her life…
Glum thought, yet reality. The kind of cold, hard, empty reality that made this sexy stranger and this stolen opportunity too tempting to pass up.
Going with the heat spiking in her core, Claire lifted her hand from where it rested on her thigh and put it into his lap. The impressive bulge of a not-quite-flaccid cock stroked against her knuckles. Any doubts she had vanished as delicious tingles erupted in her sheath.
She grinned expectantly. “So with me you’re counting on the sex being payoff enough?”
His smile flattened as he covered her hand with his own. She thought he meant to be a killjoy by lifting her fingers away. He turned her hand over instead. Turned it over and squeezed her fingers around the length of his thickening shaft through his jeans. “I’m counting on the sex being a bonus for a job well done.”
Chris bit back a groan and the urge to beat the shit out of himself for not only allowing Claire to put her hand in his lap but encouraging further exploration. Friday morning, when Treah passed her file his way, he knew he was in for a challenge. Once Chris had time to look through her file and discover the details of the circumstances which brought her to the island, the enormity of that challenge became crystal clear. Last night just sealed the deal.
Normally, he went out of his way to avoid the mainland. Relied on the guys hired exclusively to bring clients to the island to deliver his women to his door. With Nic’s taunt continuing to ride him, he’d embraced the escape the hour-long boat ride and another fifteen minutes of travel in Ecstasy’s employee truck had afforded. Seeing Claire come awake scared to death for his actions had made him feel shady as hell. More so because, even with the edge of panic riding in her eyes and her bangs lying cockeyed across her forehead, she looked far hotter than what her picture let on.
She looked even hotter now, from her gleaming baby blues to the naughty curve of her lips to her bare feet peeking out from beneath the frayed cuffs of her jeans. Unlike her lips, her toenails were painted—a girlie shade of pale pink. Since spending over four years surrounded by men in uniforms as severe as their personalities, he was a sucker for anything soft like that, anything that spoke of femininity.
The sweep of her fingers along his cock was definitely feminine. Tilting her head to the side, she eyed his mouth. “How long did my sister buy your body for?”
Letting her believe their time together centered on sex would be both the easy and the feel-good way out. But it wouldn’t be doing his job. Biting back another groan, this one about regret, Chris lifted her hand out of his lap and came to his feet. “This is a healing resort, Claire. I’m your mental coach, not your man-sized sex toy. I should never have implied otherwise.”
Her gaze skipped to the bulge pressing at the fly of his jeans. “Just mental? You don’t sleep with your clients?”
“Ecstasy takes a sensual approach to healing. So, no, not just mental. That doesn’t mean I jump into bed with every woman that enters my home. If things get that physical, it’s because the healing process calls for it. Even then, it only happens after I’ve had a chance to get to know a woman.”
Her eyes returned to his face, skepticism filling them. “I look that stupid, huh?”
“There’ve been one or two through the years that I didn’t know very well before things got hot,” he admitted as he rounded the bar. He wasn’t some horny teen that needed the partition between them to keep his hands to himself, but then he wasn’t going to tempt fate and Claire’s obvious desire to fuck him either.
“Years?” Amusement tinged her voice. “You’ve been doing this since you were what, fourteen?”
“Twenty-two, and I take my job seriously. I will cure you, Claire.”
She seemed to consider the vow for a few seconds and then concentrated back on her food. Relieved she’d temporarily turned off the heat—no way did he buy that it was a permanent cool down—Chris pulled his plate and glass across the bar.
They ate in silence for several minutes before she pointed out, “You never said how long I’m here for.”
“It’s a three-week package.”
A sultry smile returned to her lips as she cast her gaze down his body. “Fortunately, I already know it isn’t a three-inch one.”
She