By the Hour

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By the Hour Page 22

by Roni Loren


  Chapter 21

  “Okay.”

  The word was a simple one but the trust it required from Elle sent relief sweeping through Lane. She was freaked out, but she trusted him enough to give him a chance. Now he had to make sure he didn’t screw it up.

  Elle had been totally in for everything tonight—her guards down, the fun, sensual woman he’d suspected hid underneath all that armor on full display. Hell, she’d announced in front of her whole family that he was a surrogate. But the minute he’d said something sweet to her, he’d triggered her demons and the panic had tried to take her down.

  If she were a patient of his, he’d want to talk it out. But Lane knew that’d only make it worse with Elle. They’d talked enough. So, he was turning to the only thing he had left—his instincts.

  If they really wanted to make a go of this, of trying to date, he wasn’t going to walk on eggshells. He wanted to be able to tell the woman he cared about how he felt.

  “Lie back on the bed,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “Spread your legs.”

  The command seemed to snap her from whatever thoughts were making her body tense up. She took a breath and scooted back on the bed. She lay on her back and parted her legs. He ate up the view as he shucked his shirt. Even though he’d only come a few minutes ago, his cock stirred with interest at the sight. Elle’s breasts smooth and full in the warm glow of the lamps, her body bare and open to him, those lacy garters making her look like a confection. Goddamn, the woman was sexy.

  He reined in his galloping libido and went to the closet, searching for what he wanted. He’d checked for possible supplies when he’d come in and had been pleased to find that the swanky hotel had rubber-tipped clothespins on their hangers. God forbid any guest wrinkle their clothes with metal teeth. Their attention to detail was his boon.

  He grabbed a few and tucked them in his pocket before walking over to the bed. He ran the back of his hand over Elle’s breast, brushing the nipple with a barely there touch and bringing it to a hard point. Her belly dipped with a breath.

  “Have I ever told you that you have the most beautiful breasts?” he asked, tracing a circle around her areola and watching goose bumps rise.

  Her fingers curled into her palms. As he’d expected, the simple compliment unnerved her. Her lovers weren’t supposed to be kind or complimentary. That was what had been burned into her brain by that asshole lacing his lies with sugar. Well, Henry wasn’t going to steal that from her anymore if Lane had anything to do with it.

  He brought her nipple between his fingers and clamped the clothespin on it.

  She gasped. “What the hell?”

  She tried to sit up but he put a palm in the center of her chest and guided her back down. “The more you move, the more it will sting. Just let the feel of it move through you. And try not to think about how it will feel when I pull them off later. The pain of that is going to make you call me bad names.”

  “I want to call you bad names right now.”

  He smiled, pinched her other nipple, and clamped it without ceremony. “Be nice.”

  She made a sound in the back of her throat, some combination of pain and frustration. He flicked the clamp and watched as a flush moved up her body. The familiar scent of her arousal drifted on the air, and satisfaction filled him. He had her attention and she wasn’t bailing on him. He’d take every shred of good news he could get.

  He walked toward the end of the bed and undressed. “We know what your kinks are, but we haven’t gotten to the extent of mine. Dominance is one thing. Sadism is another. I haven’t had the pleasure of sharing that part of me with you yet.” He traced his fingers down her knee, watching the muscles twitch in his wake. “And I know you’re not a submissive, but I have a strong suspicion that you don’t mind some sharp edges with your pleasure.” He smacked the inside of her thigh. “I told you to keep your legs open, cupcake.”

  She grunted and huffed a breath but parted her legs. The sight of plump, slick flesh was enough to get his dick rock hard again. He took the cold metal end of another clamp and traced it over her clit.

  The shock of the cold made her back arch. “Lane.”

  “Look how wet you are again. I love how hot you get.” He traced the lips of her sex with the clamp. “I’d like to wake up each morning to your pretty face and then lick this sexy cunt for breakfast.”

  Her knees pulled up and her toes curled into the duvet.

  “I can see that, you know?” he said, keeping his voice steady. “Where this could go. Our future. Sharing a bed. Maybe a house one day. Kissing you good-bye each morning and looking forward to seeing you each night. I’d be a damn lucky guy. I never considered how much I wanted that kind of life until I met you. You make me want things I thought I could never have.”

  The truth was hard for him to say, his own vulnerability on display, flapping in the wind like a flag in a storm. But if he expected her to take this risk, he needed to be willing to take some, too.

  Her body stilled, the panic obviously gripping her, but he’d expected that. He clamped one side of her labia with the rubber-tipped clip. Her breath hissed out through her teeth and her head tilted back, the panic no competition for that shock. But her legs opened wider and her teeth bit into her lip. No safe word came. She was in the good kind of pain.

  He let out his own breath, sending a silent thank you to the universe that his instincts hadn’t been off base. He’d suspected this might be an option, since she enjoyed rough sex and she’d had a thing with Donovan, who wasn’t vanilla himself, but he didn’t want to assume. Now he could see it in front of his eyes. She could get off on a little erotic pain.

  More importantly, though, it could jam the other signals her brain and body were trying to give her. Calm that fight-or-flight response.

  This was what he could give her. A way to sink into the sensation during sex, to clearly separate it from the type of sex she’d had in her marriage, but without arguing or insults always having to play a role. A way to simply be with each other. To be dirty and rough and sweet all at the same time.

  “Still with me, gorgeous?”

  Her throat worked and she licked her lips. “Yes.”

  He leaned down and kissed her inner thigh, moving higher and higher until he reached the center of her. He licked over her swollen clit.

  She bowed up on the bed and made the most delicious, decadent sound he’d ever heard. “What are you doing to me?”

  “Bad things.”

  “They don’t feel bad,” she said softly.

  He smiled. “Because I’m good at this.” He slid a finger inside her and gently tugged at the clothespin with his other hand. Her inner muscles clenched hard around him. “And because you’re good at this, too. You’re super filthy, doc. I love it.”

  A quiet laugh escaped her.

  He swallowed hard. “I could love you if you let me.”

  His words cut off her laughter like a knife had gone through it. She sat up on her elbows, her mouth in a deep frown. “Lane—”

  “I didn’t tell you to get up. And I don’t need you to freak out.”

  She yanked off her blindfold, her eyes finding his, accusation there. “What are you doing?”

  “Tonight’s about honesty. That’s me giving you mine.” He channeled the inner calm he’d learned from being a counselor, showed no emotion on his face, and pulled off the clamp from between her legs.

  She fell back to the bed. “Fuck.”

  He didn’t wait for her to recover. She had a safe word if she needed it. He dropped down between her thighs and sucked her clit between his lips. She moaned, the sound obviously out of her control, and he vowed to make her do it again and again.

  Elle couldn’t think. Half her brain was running around like it was on fire, Lane’s words setting off every alarm in her head, but the other half had lost all functioning because all she could think about was the oh-my-God sensation of Lane’s mouth on her again and the tight burning of her nipples benea
th the clamps. Her body felt as if every erogenous zone were connected by wires, a touch or tug in one place setting off a cascade of sensations through the others.

  Lane could love her?

  He slipped his hands to the backs of her thighs and opened her wide, lashing her with his skilled tongue and digging his fingernails into her flesh. Somehow the pain kept her from flying apart. Kept her glued to the bed and rocking against Lane’s mouth, begging for another orgasm, even when every other logical part of her screamed she should shut this down.

  But why?

  The dangerous thought whispered through her mind as she let herself open her eyes and watch this man who was pleasuring her. Just seeing his blond head made a warm feeling move through her. When he’d said he wanted to wake up to her face every morning, she’d wanted to shove the comment back, un-hear it, but the images had entered her head anyway. Tempting, sunrise-dappled scenes of Lane lying next to her in bed, all messy-haired and shirtless. Sharing coffee and their plans for the day. Touching. Cuddling.

  And what the fuck was that about? She didn’t cuddle.

  That wasn’t what her life was meant to be. She’d accepted that she would always live alone. She wanted to continue seeing Lane, but she’d meant in a dating capacity, not in a let’s-fall-in-love-and-move-in-together capacity.

  Lane pinched her thigh and she yelped, the sting bringing her back into the moment. He lifted his head. “Don’t think so much, doc. Just feel what you feel.”

  “You can’t expect me to—”

  But before she could get the words out, he crawled up the bed and kissed her. He tasted like her and smelled like sin and sent her thoughts whizzing out of her head. She groaned into his mouth, his chest bumping against the clamps on her nipples and his cock brushing against her thigh.

  Her sex throbbed and her legs opened wider. She didn’t know what to do about the thoughts, about the words, but her body had one mission in mind and it pulled rank. She needed this man inside her. Right now.

  She reached between them, taking him in her hand and guiding him to her entrance. Need you, need you, need you. His cock breached her, the feel of him like the answer to a prayer.

  But Lane broke away from the kiss with a gasping breath. “Hold up. Condom. Not on yet.”

  The words didn’t make sense at first, the erotic fog in her brain thick, but then they snapped into place. The bedside table where the condom was seemed so far away. And he felt so good. She didn’t want the barrier. “I’m on the pill. And tested regularly. You?”

  “I was tested a month ago, but I’ve never not…”

  “Your call.”

  His eyes met hers, something breaking open in his gaze, something vulnerable and real. He grabbed her thigh and sank deep.

  The velvet heat of him nearly sent her over the edge again. The orgasm from earlier seemed years in the past. But she breathed through the surge, trying to keep from ending this too quickly.

  He tipped his head down, his cheek to hers, his eyes closed. “Thank fuck I already came once tonight because I would’ve just lit you up on the first thrust.”

  She laughed, the sound bubbling out of her and unfurling something inside her, lifting some of the weight of the night, making her forget why she was supposed to be worried. “Hold it together, Cannon. If you come before I do, I’m going to kick your ass.”

  He lifted his head with a wicked grin. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m going to take good care of you, gorgeous.”

  He buried himself fully and ground his pelvis right against her clit, making tension coil low and deep. “Oh, God.”

  “Hold that thought,” he said, and quickly pulled the clips from her breasts.

  Sharp, fiery pain radiated outward as blood rushed back into her nipples and set them aflame. Her eyes watered and she gasped, but almost as fast as it started, the sensation changed course, linking up with the rocking, grinding pressure against her clit. Pleasure exploded low and fanned outward like a sonic boom, sending her crying out and grappling for Lane.

  He held on and pumped hard into her, angling just right, hitting the place she needed most and launching her into an orgasm. She called his name and scraped her nails down his back. He lowered his head and latched onto her tender nipple, pressing his teeth into it and setting off more fireworks. Release arced through her and pushed her higher. She peaked with a loud, desperate cry and felt his muscles ripple beneath her fingers. He plunged deep, his release bathing her with hot, wicked pleasure.

  He buried his face in her neck and breathed through his orgasm, whispering sweet things and praise and finally one simple sentence. “I might not even wait for your permission.”

  He could love her. Even if she didn’t let him.

  The words should terrify her.

  Make her run.

  But in that moment, she couldn’t find it in herself to be scared. She just wanted to curl into him…and cuddle.

  Chapter 22

  Lane was quiet on the way back to her mom’s house early the next morning, occasionally mentioning something inconsequential or pointing out interesting things they passed in the city, but nothing beyond that. Elle sensed that he was giving her space.

  She appreciated that gift and clung to it.

  She’d lain next to him all night, barely sleeping, her brain on blender mode and her heart trying to elbow its way into the mix. This was territory she hadn’t traversed before, and she felt as if she were wearing flip-flops and a cocktail dress to climb Everest. She had no clue how to even…process this. She brought her coffee to her lips and sipped, wishing it held answers instead of just a jolt of caffeine.

  “You sure you want to go back to your family’s place?” he asked. “I could just go in and get our stuff.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m not going to run away from it. I caused a scene, which I’ll apologize for because that wasn’t my intention.”

  “You were provoked.”

  She sighed. “Even so, I should’ve walked away. I doubt they still want me at the wedding, but I don’t want to look like I’m turning tail and running. Plus, I came here to visit with my mother. I can still do that at least.”

  His big hands flexed around the steering wheel. “Do you still want me to go in with you? I could leave you with the car and rent one to get back to The Grove.”

  She frowned. “Why would you do that?”

  He peered her way. “They know what I do now. If that’s going to be awkward for—”

  “No,” she said. She wasn’t sure of a lot of things but she was sure of that. “No shame, remember?”

  “Right.” He nodded. “Doc, about last night—”

  “I can’t.”

  His expression turned guarded. “Can’t what?”

  She took a breath. “Talk about last night right now. I need to handle the drama with my family first. When we get back to The Grove, we can deal with last night.”

  His jaw twitched and he looked back to the road. “Right. Deal with it.”

  She caught the edge in his tone but didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have answers for him. She didn’t regret last night, hearing the things Lane had said, sharing the things they’d shared. But the light of day brought things hidden by the fog of sex into sharp relief. The problems they’d left behind at The Grove didn’t go away just because they weren’t there right now.

  Maybe she could learn to take a compliment, to be sweet with Lane, to trust him. God knows they had enough chemistry to set the world on fire. But one thing kept sticking pins in her balloons of hope no matter how she tried to find her way around it.

  How was she going to accept being in a serious relationship with someone who slept with other women for a living? The thought had gnawed at her last night until she’d wanted to scream. She wished she could be so self-assured that his patients wouldn’t feel like a threat, but she saw who walked into The Grove. Beautiful, young actresses, sexy musicians, wealthy businesswomen. She would have to share him with those people, and she
couldn’t imagine swallowing that particular pill down without choking.

  And that’s what had her gut churning this morning.

  She was falling for someone who wasn’t hers to have alone.

  They pulled in front of her mother’s house, the sky still dark at this early hour but the porch light burning.

  “Looks like we’re not the only ones up,” Lane said.

  Elle’s gaze drifted to the far side of the porch, where a woman bundled in a blue shawl sat on one of the rocking chairs. Elle frowned. “That’s weird. Nina’s always been a late sleeper.”

  Lane sniffed. “She’s getting married. That’ll keep anyone awake. Lifetime commitment and all. Scary stuff.”

  She peered over at him and attempted to smirk. “Says Mr. Relationship.”

  “Mr. Relationship?” He lifted a skeptical brow. “Is that how you see me?”

  She shrugged, though the move felt tight. “You said some pretty heavy things last night. Most guys would’ve been terrified to go there.”

  He stared at her and shook his head, wry amusement on his face. “You assume I wasn’t terrified. That I’m not still terrified. That I haven’t spent my whole life avoiding anything long term.”

  She blinked, the words taking a moment to register. “But the things you said…”

  He glanced up at the porch and then back to her, his green eyes clear but a little sad. “You were worth the risk to me.” He pulled the keys from the ignition. “I guess now it’s your turn to decide if I’m worth the same.”

  With that, he unhooked his seatbelt and opened the door, leaving her staring after him, her heart sinking into her toes. He opened her car door to let her out, but he didn’t wait for her.

  He strode up the walk, greeted Nina briefly, and then disappeared into the house. Nina glanced out toward the car, obviously looking for her, and Elle’s muscles froze in place. She didn’t want to deal with any of this right now, especially not her sister.

 

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