Do Me (Irresistible Husband)

by Sheryl Lister

  “I’ll take the cookies and cream. Might as well get my full chocolate fix.”

  “A man after my own heart,” she said, taking the container out of the freezer.

  If things worked out as he hoped, she just might be that woman. While she cut and placed a warmed brownie in each bowl, he dished the ice cream, then drizzled the chocolate syrup on top.

  She grabbed the bottle and added enough to cover her ice cream completely. “Don’t be stingy.”

  Laughing, he carried the bowls to the dining room table while she returned everything to its place. Braxton removed his tie and stuck it in his pocket, then unbuttoned the first two buttons on his shirt. He seated her first, then took his own. “Okay. The test.” He dug below the mounds of ice cream and scooped up the brownie. The rich, moist treat tasted so good he groaned. “A plus, Dr. Grant.”

  “Why thank you, Mr. Harper.”

  Smiling, they enjoyed the decadent dessert while laughing about their favorite foods to cook. While she preferred baking, he enjoyed preparing main courses.

  “I can bake anything from breads and cakes to pies and everything in between. But ask me to cook chicken, and you’re going to get it either baked or fried. The end. My steaks end up being either under or overcooked. The only thing I can do reasonably well is seafood. Wait, let me rephrase that…I can do shrimp and bake or broil salmon.”

  She had him at the mention of bread. In his mind, there was nothing like freshly baked bread in any form. He propped his forearm on the table. “I have a proposal for you.”

  “What kind of a proposal?” She licked chocolate off the spoon.

  Braxton’s body reacted with lightning speed. What made it even more arousing was that the act had been done innocently. For a moment, he lost his train of thought. “How about for our next date, I cook dinner and you make dessert? We can do it at my place.”

  A smile blossomed on her beautiful face and she pointed her spoon his way. “You’ve got yourself a deal. Just let me know when.”

  “Next Saturday. That’ll give us time without having to rush. If you text me the list of ingredients for whatever dessert you’re going to make, I’ll pick them up when I go to the grocery store.”

  “You’re going to allow me to cook in your kitchen?”

  “Sure, why not? Or is this another one of those things guys don’t do again?”

  “I’m afraid so,” she answered with a chuckle. “House or condo?”

  “Townhouse.”

  “How many bedrooms?”

  “A couple more than yours.” Braxton didn’t think she’d react the same, but every time he told a woman that he lived in a two-story home with four bedrooms, four baths, and over three thousand square feet of space, she started planning how fast she could move in, saying, “that’s too much space for just one person.” He’d rather Londyn see it for herself. “Is it a date?”

  “Yes, but I’ll pick up the ingredients myself because I don’t know what I’m going to make yet.”

  “Okay. We can make a day of it. I’ll pick you up at three.”

  “Works for me.”

  He polished off the remainder of his dessert, and they talked for another two hours. It was nearly midnight when he reluctantly stood. Braxton wanted to talk to her all night. He loved the sound of her voice. It was soft, comforting and perfect for the career she’d chosen. “I should get going.” He picked up their bowls and carried them into the kitchen.

  “Just place them in the sink. I’ll rinse them and put them in the dishwasher later.”

  She leaned against the wall in the sexiest pose he’d seen in quite some time: arms folded, one leg crossed, exposing a firm thigh, and head tilted to one side with her hair partially covering her face. Braxton took her hand and walked toward the front. She handed him his suitcoat and he slipped his arms into the sleeves. “Thank you for your company this evening, Londyn. I really enjoyed myself.”

  Londyn placed a hand on his arm. “Thank you, and I did, too. I’m looking forward to next week.”

  He had told himself he would go slow, just a kiss on the cheek and leave, but when he saw her doing that lip nibbling thing he lost all reason. He wanted to taste her lips, soothe that spot himself. Sliding his arm around her waist, he drew her closer. “May I kiss you goodnight?”

  “Yes,” she whispered at the same time his head descended.

  Braxton was supposed to kiss her, not devour her like he’d done the brownie sundae, but he couldn’t help it. As soon as their lips connected, he was lost. His tongue stroked hers and delved deeper to claim every area of her mouth. The lingering sweetness from their dessert only heightened the pleasure. He eased back, gifting her with butterfly kisses along her jaw, then lifted his head. “Sleep well.” At least one of us will, he told himself as he made his way to his car.

  Friday morning, Braxton arrived at the wellness center with the engineer, Gayle Ross, ten minutes before their scheduled appointment. While waiting, Gayle showed him the latest pictures of her six-year-old daughter.

  “I can’t believe how much she’s grown. The last time I saw her, she was still in diapers.”

  Gayle laughed. “Those days are long gone, thank goodness.”

  Their conversation ended when Shawn and Londyn entered. He’d never had a problem keeping his professional face on, but today it was all he could do not to haul Londyn into his arms and kiss her like he’d been fantasizing since he’d walked out of her condo a week ago. He rose to his feet to greet them. “Dr. Ingram and Dr. Grant, I’d like to introduce you to Gayle Ross. She’ll be the engineer installing your network.” A round of greetings ensued. “Let’s get started.” Braxton detailed his design, answered questions and made changes based on their responses. Gayle then shared her timeline for the installation, estimating a week to ensure the system was working properly. Braxton finished by saying, “We’ll schedule monthly maintenance, but will be available for any concerns or problems.”

  “Sounds good,” Shawn said. “Ms. Ross, would you be able to work out a schedule with each of the staff, so we can have minimal interruptions in seeing our patients? You can speak with our assistant.”

  “Of course. If she’s not busy, we can talk as soon as we’re done here.”

  “Thank you.” Braxton fixed his gaze on Londyn. “Do you have anything you want to add?”

  “I think we’ve covered everything.”

  He noticed Londyn did her best not to look his way when she answered. The one time he caught her staring during the meeting, she turned away quickly. He smiled inwardly.

  Shawn stood and everyone followed suit. He shook Braxton’s hand and gestured for Gayle to follow him.

  Their departure left Braxton and Londyn alone. She seemed nervous, unsure. “What time is your lunch?”

  “I usually go around noon. My next patient is at one.”

  “May I treat you to lunch? I saw a deli within walking distance.”

  “I’d like that. Let me get my purse, and I’ll meet you out front.”

  He watched the sway of her hips in the gray slacks as she passed and smiled. He followed her out and stopped to let Gayle know he was leaving.

  “I’m ready.”

  Braxton spun around at the sound of Londyn’s voice. She had donned a jacket to ward off the cool temperatures. He held the door open for her and they started up the block. He entwined their hands. “Are you okay?”

  Londyn smiled a little. “Yeah. It’s crazy, but I feel like a teen sneaking out with the boy I like, instead of a thirty-six-year-old woman.” She shook her head.

  “If it makes you feel better, today was the first time I’ve ever wanted to kiss a woman while I was supposed to be working.” They shared a look and burst out laughing, easing the tension. “You look much younger than thirty-six.”

  “That comment will get you your own pan of brownies.”

  He kissed the back of her hand. “If I said you look a decade younger, would that get me two pans?”

  She rolle
d her eyes and smiled. “No, because I know I don’t look that young. Since we’re talking ages, how old are you?”

  “Almost forty.”

  She squinted her eyes.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t see any gray hairs, so you can’t be that old,” she said, trying to suppress a giggle.

  Braxton stopped walking. “Are you calling me old?”

  “No way. And if I were, I’d say it after my belly was full.”

  Laughing, he hugged her and dropped a kiss on her hair. “Come on.” They found the shop fairly crowded. “Why don’t you find us a table while I order.”

  “Okay.” Londyn told him what she wanted, then hurried over to snag a table that had been just vacated.

  A few minutes later, he placed the tray holding their meal on the table and slid into the chair across from her. They ate in silence for a while, then he decided to ask the question that had been bugging him since he saw a brochure listing her specialties. “I see you provide treatment in a variety of areas and I was curious about something. How did you decide on pornography addiction, and when did that become a diagnosis?” During his college years, he’d watched it, but never thought of it as an issue.

  “It’s not recognized as an official diagnosis by the American Psychiatric Association, but the research suggests that behavioral addictions are serious and pornography is no exception. Just because someone indulges in watching it every now and then doesn’t make it an issue. It’s when the amount of time that person spends watching it keeps growing and they’re on pornography sites for hours on end, and he or she starts neglecting their other responsibilities.” She picked up a stray piece of tomato and ate it. “It can start from something as simple as being bored or because they’re depressed, lonely.”

  Braxton frowned. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “Most people don’t. Home life is affected, as well, especially when the person insists that the romantic or sexual partner view the porn and or acts out the fantasies even though that person may not want to do so. Or when it gets to the point where the person needs to view porn in order to enjoy sex.”

  He froze. His brain went into overdrive. He thought back to the years that he’d indulged. It started with a couple of his buddies renting the movies on weekends as a way to unwind, then for about four years, Braxton had watched them on his own when he had nothing to do. At the time, his relationships hadn’t lasted past the three-month mark. And the sex… It had never been fulfilling. His heart started pounding. Was his lack of fulfilment somehow tied to a subconscious fantasy he’d expected the women he’d had sex with to live up to and when they didn’t, he walked away? Even when he had stopped watching it and thinking about it, he couldn’t put his finger on why his liaisons were short-lived. A sense of sadness and shame washed over him. He prided himself on treating women with respect and he would never knowingly hurt a woman in that way. Even though he had never asked any of them to “perform” any acts, or brought the subject up, parts of him wanted to find those women and apologize. Braxton pushed his sandwich aside, his appetite now gone. A touch on his hand drew him out of his musings.

  “Are you okay? I’m sorry if I’m boring you. I tend to get a little passionate on the subject,” Londyn said with a rueful smile.

  “I’m fine. Just thinking about what you’re saying, and you should be passionate about your work. You never did say why you chose to specialize in this area.”

  She hesitated briefly. “Someone I knew was in a relationship with a man who had a pornography addiction. He forced her to watch it, then wanted her to reenact the scene and berated her for not performing it right. I wanted to help her.”

  Braxton reached for her hand. “And did you?”

  “I’m working on it.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “I’d better get back.” She pointed at his half-eaten sandwich. “You barely ate.”

  He waved her off. “I’ll finish it later.” He took it to the counter and had the sandwich wrapped to go. On the way back, he was still thinking about his startling revelation. Not wanting to dwell on it, he asked, “Have you decided what dessert you’re making tomorrow?”

  Londyn gave him a bright smile. “Yep, but I’m not telling.” She leaned into him. “But it’s going to be sooo good!”

  Every time she opened up this way, it drew him to her a little more. “You are such a tease,” he said with a chuckle.

  “And I can back it up, too.” As if she realized what she’d said, she clapped a hand over her mouth. “That is not what I meant. I was talking about cooking.”

  Still laughing softly, he said, “I’m talking about cooking, too.”

  Londyn stared at him a long moment. “I’m not even going to touch that.”

  He held the office building door open for her to enter first. “Neither am I. At least not yet.” She whipped her head around and their eyes connected. They both knew the conversation had shifted from physical food to another kind of hunger. Braxton took a step, intending to kiss Londyn goodbye, then remembered they were standing in the lobby with the receptionist’s eyes glued to them and moved back.

  As if reading his mind, she said, “Ah, I think we should save that for another time.”

  “I agree. “ And he planned to make up for it.

  Chapter 5

  While Londyn prepared for her next client, a riot of emotions assailed her, one surprising and the other, unwelcomed. Teasing with Braxton had her body in an uproar. For so long, she’d told herself that passion had no place in her life, but there was something about him that made her feel safe exploring her sexuality again. She had wanted nothing more than to have him kiss her like he’d done after their date and for the first time in her life, she hadn’t cared that they were standing in the middle of her workplace. Public displays of affection had never been her style, but she would have gladly broken her rule to feel his lips on hers. The second sentiment evoked the same pain and bitterness as it had almost two years ago. She had meant only to clinically answer Braxton’s questions, but somehow her own feelings had worked their way into the conversation.

  She closed her eyes and drew in a couple of deep breaths, then let them out slowly, gradually regaining her composure. A minute later, she was back in control. Londyn pulled the file for her next patient. This would be the first session for a couple who listed marital problems as their reason for seeking out counseling.

  Londyn’s intercom buzzed. She hit the button. “Yes.”

  “Dr. Grant, Mr. and Mrs. Stephens are here for their one o’clock appointment.”

  “Thank you, Dee. I’ll be right out.” She straightened her desk and walked out front where two couples waited. “Mr. and Mrs. Stephens?” An African American couple who looked to be around Londyn’s age stood. Smiling, she shook their hands. “Hello, I’m Dr. Grant. Please follow me.” She escorted them to her office and closed the door. “Please have a seat.” She rounded the desk and gestured to the two chairs across from her. Londyn observed them. The man’s body language and heavy scowl told her he didn’t want to be there, while his wife bore an expression of worry. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about why you’re here.”

  The man shot a glare at his wife. “She wanted to come. I’m fine.”

  “Mrs. Stephens?” Londyn prompted.

  “We’re having intimacy problems,” the woman whispered. She paused, her lips trembling. “He watches those movies, then wants me to, to…” She trailed off. “I’m not a porn star and I don’t want to be one. I just want to have normal sex.” Mrs. Stephens swiped at a tear running down her cheek.

  “Mr. Stephens, would you—”

  He shot up off the chair. “You saying I’m not normal?” he shouted. “Just because you’re too prim and proper to get your freak on doesn’t make me the bad guy. I’m trying to help you,” he added with a look of disgust.

  “Mr. Stephens,” Londyn started, keeping her voice calm and even, “I’m going to ask you to please lower your voice and
have a seat.”

  Mr. Stephens stared at Londyn, then threw up his hands. “I’m out. I don’t have time for this bullshit.” He stormed out.

  His wife burst into tears and Londyn handed her the box of tissues she always kept handy. It took a few minutes for the tears to slow then stop.

  “What am I going to do, Dr. Grant?”

  “I can’t tell you what to do, Mrs. Stephens. That will have to be your decision. How long have you two been married?”

  “Three years.”

  “How long has his watching pornography been an issue?”

  She twisted the tissue in her hands, shredding it in the process, but kept her head lowered. “He was watching when I met him, but only sometimes, I think. Then, when we got engaged, I wanted us to stop having sex for the two months before our wedding. He got mad, and then I found out he was going online all the time, even on our dates.” She met Londyn’s gaze. “I figured once we got married, he’d stop because we’d be having sex again.”

  Londyn wanted to tell the woman that she should have paid attention to the red flags her husband had clearly been giving her. “Did it stop?”

  She shook her head.

  “Mrs. Stephens, what would you like to see happen in your marriage?”

  “I want my husband to change.” She scooted back in the chair and stood. “I have to go. I don’t want him to leave me.”

  Londyn followed suit. “You still have twenty minutes left in your session.”

  Mrs. Stephens divided her gaze between the chair and the door. The latter won out when the woman rushed out with a hushed, “I’m sorry.”

  I want my husband to change. Mrs. Stephens’ plea for her husband to change wasn’t going to happen unless the man first acknowledged he had a problem. She closed her eyes. She knew that truth better than anyone. Straightening, she typed a short note of the session and prepared for the next one.

  Thankfully, the remainder of her sessions had been uneventful. Londyn stretched to relieve the kinks in her neck and back. As soon as she finished one last chart, her workweek would be over. A knock sounded on her partially closed door. “Come in.” She smiled when Shawn walked in. “I thought you were leaving early today.”