Sacred (Forbidden Flowers Book 4)

by Donya Lynne

  In other words, not even Journey was immune to his genetic and pheromonic allure. Being this close to him made it shockingly clear that she was more attracted to him than she had first realized. And, no, she had not forgotten how to have sex. His proximity alone made her remember exactly how it was done.

  Would she even be able to remain professional with him? She had never crossed that line with a client before. Not even with the handsome ones. But in all her years as a Reiki practitioner, she had never been so deeply tempted than right now. And with each passing minute, the temptation to touch Paul in deeply inappropriate and unprofessional ways grew stronger.

  Maybe offering to give him Reiki had been a mistake. If she wasn’t careful, she would leave Paul Bunyan’s cabin with a pending sexual harassment lawsuit.

  He tugged the hem of his sweater over his waist and straightened the fabric, his teeth briefly catching his full bottom lip as he eyed her.

  They were as close to each other as they’d been when he bandaged her forehead and finger, but unlike when he had played doctor, this felt much more personal.

  She stiffened her spine. I can do this. I can touch this very handsome, sexy, provocative man and maintain my composure. It didn’t matter that he was just her type—hell, he was every woman’s type. She would hold her shit together like the pro she was.

  A pro who was just standing there staring at him like a starstruck fan.

  “Okay, so”—she propelled herself into action—“I’ll start with your back, then move around to the front, placing my hands in a series of positions, holding each one for a couple of minutes.”

  “Is there anything I need to do?”

  She rolled up the sleeves of the pajama top. “Nope. All you have to do is sit there and let me do the work.”

  “Easy enough.”

  That was easy for him to say. He wasn’t in her shoes.

  She met his gaze for a hot second that felt way more intense than it should have, then looked away. “Before I start, is there anywhere you don’t want me to touch you?”

  Some clients had trigger spots, especially clients who had been abused, and preferred not to be touched around the neck or stomach. Some clients—both women and men—didn’t like being touched at all, so she had to perform her treatments by holding her hands an inch or two above their bodies. If she were lucky, that would be Paul, and she would be forced not to touch him at all, even though she preferred touching. With him, though, touching was riskier.

  “No,” he said, shrugging easily. “I’m good with whatever.”

  So much for hoping.

  “Then let’s get started.” She stepped behind him as he rotated the seat of the barstool to face away from her.

  He had an amazing back. The thin layer of buttery black cashmere lay over it in such a way that it revealed every sweep of carved muscle in his shoulders and the shallow ridge along his spine, as well as the lean taper of his waist.

  She’d already been warm, now she was getting downright hot.

  She would have to be mindful of how her palms moved over his body when she changed their positions. Her job was to heal, not give him a happy ending massage.

  “I’ll start with the back of your head.” She liked starting with the head. It seemed to relax her clients quickly. Some even fell asleep. Others saw visions. “Just close your eyes and relax.”

  As she placed her palms against the thick, silky waves of his hair, she had to resist the urge to dig her fingers into it.

  But it didn’t take long for her mind to shift away from his luscious locks. The moment her healing hands landed on his scalp, the Reiki began flowing immediately and with such force that she swayed forward, almost falling against him.

  Wow! She’d felt strong energy currents before, but this was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. It was like Paul was in energy starvation, thirsting for healing. So much so that he was like a vacuum sucking it from her hands the way someone might drink a soda by taking great heaving gulps through a straw. He was more like a magnet pulling her to him than a human body drinking up Reiki.

  Stabilizing her stance, she closed her eyes and focused on bringing white light in through the top of her head and sending it out through her palms.

  After a few seconds, Paul visibly relaxed. His shoulders dropped and rolled forward as the tension drained out of them, revealing the full breadth of his back. It was like a canvas begging for an artist’s paintbrush. No doubt New York’s finest tattoo artists would love to get their hands on that much work surface.

  As the minutes ticked by, she felt him relax even more, his muscles unwinding and unknotting one by one until he was practically melting off the barstool, which meant it was time to move her hands to the next position.

  Sliding her palms down, she stopped on the back of his neck and rotated her hands so that they wrapped around the sides, her fingers resting under his jaw. There was no way her small hands could fit all the way around that striated stretch of flesh, but that wasn’t the point. She was simply searching for the areas that wanted energy.

  She didn’t stay with his neck long before sliding both hands between his shoulders at the top of his spine. Her fingers extended up his nape. Journey had found that this area was often a glutton for Reiki. Clients often reported falling into almost trancelike states while she worked on this area.

  From the way Paul’s shoulders sagged even farther and his head slowly tipped forward, this was a hot spot on him too.

  She stayed there for a while, letting his body take what she gave it while she gazed at the expanse of his back and the way the fabric of his sweater pulled tight over the muscles. He looked and felt like he’d been sculpted from stone. Hard, perfect, and godlike. Men this magnificent were what made survival of the fittest a thing and coaxed even the most career-driven woman to consider the ticking of her biological clock.

  A fluttering sensation whirred inside Journey’s abdomen below her belly button and slightly to the left, followed by warmth turning over on itself in the pit of her stomach.

  Her breathing deepened involuntarily as her hands glided lower on Paul’s back, stopping of their own accord about halfway down and sliding outward.

  Desire awakened, and her heart beat harder.

  She’d heard of this happening to other practitioners on rare occasions and had even read theories that Reiki energy was drawn up out of the reproductive organs for manifestation purposes, which meant that feeling sensations of arousal while giving Reiki were not out of the question.

  But it had never happened to her. And right now, she was having to force herself not to wrap her arms all the way around his waist and lick the nape of his neck.

  He breathed slowly, deeply, almost hypnotically. Beneath her palms, she could feel his ribs expand as he inhaled heavily, then contract as he slowly breathed out.

  Hopefully, he was oblivious to the battle raging inside her. What she was feeling was most definitely not the Reiki way, and she didn’t need him thinking she’d lied or tricked him into something sexual.

  She focused on his back a few minutes more, hoping the arousal churning in her belly would subside, but it only grew stronger.

  Stepping back, she took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile she hoped covered how turned on she was. “I’m going to work on the front of you now.” Lord help her.

  Paul seemed to awaken from a state of nirvana, stretching and sighing as he swiveled around to face her.

  The lines in his face were gone, his dark-gray eyes heavier, his expression so relaxed it was almost sultry.

  “Are you feeling okay?” she asked, eyeing his chest.

  He uttered a quiet moan that sounded like an affirmative.

  “No discomfort?” She hadn’t felt any major blocks while working on his back, so she doubted he was experiencing any unpleasantness, especially when he looked like a melting ice sculpture, his features softer and less rigid than they’d been thirty minutes ago. His forearms rested on his thighs like dea
d weights he couldn’t lift even if he wanted to.

  He blinked heavily. “No. I feel good.”

  The guy looked like he’d just had the best sex of his life and still hadn’t come down from the cloud he was floating on.

  Trying desperately to ignore her arousal, especially with him flashing his seductively hooded eyes at her, she drew the sacred Reiki symbols on his chest, right over his heart. After all, that was what he wanted healed, right? His heart. She wanted to focus the Reiki there.

  “Give me more, doc,” he muttered, grinning loosely and closing his eyes.

  “So, you’re a believer now?” she said quietly, placing her palms on his chest.

  “Oh yeah.” His deep voice rumbled like distant thunder. “This is great.”

  His long lashes twitched gently, and his lips parted as he slowly exhaled.

  With the Reiki flowing into his chest like a river of lava, she took a private moment to admire his features. Dimpled chin, dark short scruff on his beard, long perfectly proportioned nose, and a deep cleft in the center of his upper lip that begged to be kissed.

  His black, lightly salted hair fell around his face in short, tousled waves . . . long enough for her to run her fingers through, but not long enough that he could pull it into a ponytail. Kind of like Joe Manganiello’s when he was younger and had longer hair. Sexy, liberated, and slightly rebellious, but not wild and untamed.

  She squeezed her eyes closed, forcing herself to stop ogling him. Staring at his handsome face and Magic Mike hair that begged to be fisted while he gave her a lap dance was doing nothing to help her nip the sexual buzz spreading throughout her body.

  Stiffening her shoulders and purposefully raising her chin, she committed to getting serious. No more staring. No more noticing how incredibly warm his chest was against her palms . . . or how hard and rounded his pecs were . . . or the way his nipples hardened as she repositioned her hands . . . or how badly she wanted to slide her hands under his sweater and—

  Get a grip!

  Paul deserved better from her. He was obviously still hurting. He didn’t need her mind-fucking him while she was supposed to be helping rid him of emotions that were holding him back from being the man he was meant to be, not this reclusive hermit living alone in the woods.

  Concentrating on her intention, she put aside her own body’s selfish response, closed her eyes, and held on to the visualization of white light entering her crown chakra, flowing down her arms, and out through her palms into his heart. She envisioned his heart glowing with healing light. She pictured it turning from dull gray to vibrant red, his heartbeat growing from shallow and weak to vibrant and strong.

  She held that vision and let the Reiki flow for a while, a lot longer than she usually did. Mostly because she lost track of the time and had fallen into a bit of a meditative state herself. That sometimes happened when she grew really focused during a treatment, because Reiki didn’t just work on the client, but also the practitioner. She could be just as affected by Reiki as her clients while she was treating them.

  When awareness finally prickled her senses back to the real world, and she began to withdraw her energy to close out the session, she became aware of something pressed against her hips. Something weighty. Wait, no, not weighty. This felt more like pressure.

  Opening her eyes, she drew in her breath. Paul was barely a foot away. Somehow, without even being aware she was doing it, she had unconsciously pushed way up inside his personal space while her eyes had been closed.

  She stood between his open legs, with her palms and forearms pressed against the front of his body like she’d been leaning in for a kiss. And the pressure on her hips? His hands rested casually just below her waist.

  His gray eyes gazed into hers as if he’d forgotten where he was and why she was there, but he seemed in no rush to put distance between them. With his eyebrows curiously furled and a puzzled, yet wondrous glint in his eyes, he appeared more interested in staying right where he was as he tried to figure out what was happening between them.

  “Is this how Reiki treatments usually end?” He spoke softly, his provocative gaze studying her before landing on her mouth.

  “Uh . . .” She bit her bottom lip as warmth rose in her face.

  This was most definitely not how Reiki treatments ended, nor how they began, or even how they evolved in the middle. She was so far outside the boundaries of professional behavior she may as well have been standing in front of him naked with his cock in her hand.

  She began to pull away, but his hands clenched, gripping her hips and holding her in place. His whole body seemed to be saying I like you right where you are, even as his perplexed gaze said he had no idea why he couldn’t let her go.

  Who was she to question his reasons for keeping her there? Because as unprofessional as it was, she would have been lying if she said she didn’t like being wedged between his thighs and up close and personal with his chest.

  After staring at her mouth as if he were starving and couldn’t figure out how the plate of meat and potatoes sitting in front of him had gotten there, his lashes flicked upward, his gaze colliding with hers like a charging bull as his demeanor took a decisively primitive turn.

  Dazed and breathless, she couldn’t stop her fingers from curling around the soft cashmere covering his chest, tugging him closer.

  She couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. In this moment, all she could do was react. He was the stimulus, and she was the response.

  She had no idea what energetic metamorphosis had occurred in the past twenty minutes, but it was rapidly altering the evolution of her emotions, her feelings, her very reason for being there. It felt as though she’d been meant to turn down Paul’s driveway. Like she’d been meant to skid off into the ditch. As if, all along, the plan had been to find her way here, to his cabin, pressed against his body, her fists opening so she could skim her palms over his stomach as arousal flamed to life in his eyes.

  She was in a free fall with no net beneath her to catch her and no parachute to slow her plunging descent.

  With her lips parted and her emotions drunk with lust, her heart pounded with need. Need that years of abstinence had created.

  Boldly sweeping her hands up his chest to his neck, she let skin meet skin as she brushed her fingers around to his nape and into his hair. Her nails scraped his scalp.

  A shiver of sanity parted the heavy air and tapped her sense of reason. This was a bad idea. She didn’t know his real name, and they’d only just met. And as soon as her car was pulled out of that ditch, she would return to the city. She needed to stop this now, before it grew so out of hand that she couldn’t.

  With her hands still in his hair and his gaze still locked on to hers, she took a deep breath, pulling on logic and rationale to say what needed to be said.

  “Paul, I—”

  Before she could utter another syllable, he released one hip, wrapped his arm around the small of her back, and yanked her forward, capturing her mouth with his in a blistering kiss so fiercely primal that she thought she might spontaneously combust.

  What was it she had wanted to say about this being a bad idea? She couldn’t remember. Even if she could, any words that had been about to fall off her tongue vaporized as feral lust ignited. Her fingers curled like claws in his hair, and she kissed him back with fierce urgency, surrendering to his mouth as his tongue swept over hers with the brutal desire of a man who hadn’t tasted a woman’s lips for far too long.

  His hands pushed under the flannel top, the calluses on the pads of his palms scratching delightfully over skin no man had touched in years.

  She moaned into his mouth, greedy to feel him. With every caress, he awakened her body a little bit more, pushing her higher, stoking the flames rising inside her into infernal towers, making her fly.

  As if he were a rocket blasting off, he shot up off the barstool, his body a force against gravity and restraint as it barreled her backward. His mouth remained fused with hers, his ha
nds directing her as she staggered over herself to wherever he was guiding her. She knocked into a floor lamp, nearly fell over a table, all the while tripping over the pant legs of her pajamas, which had unrolled to cover her feet and drag along the floor.

  When they reached their destination, he lifted her off the floor, hoisting her legs around his hips, and took her down onto the wide leather couch in the center of the room, settling on top of her in the cradle of her body.

  Tongues wrestled, fingers fumbled, buttons slid free, and fabric loosened. Within seconds, he had the placket of her pajama top partially unbuttoned and her nipple in his mouth, sucking, nipping, and licking it into a hard nub as she arched her back, gasping as she gripped the back of his head.

  She heard the jangle of his belt buckle, the whir of his zipper, and felt the scratch of denim being flipped aside and shoved down. She lifted her hips and pushed on the elastic waist of the plaid pajama pants until he hooked the fabric under his knee and launched them past her ankles.

  Releasing her nipple with a satisfying pop, he rose up her body, lifting one of her legs and propping it on the back of the couch as the breadth and power of his hips pushed the other out to the side and off the couch completely. Lifting it back up, she swung it around his bare ass as his erection slid against her inner thigh, her lower belly, and finally between her labia.

  They were doing this. She was doing this. There would be no stopping, no hesitation, not even a moment’s pause. What was about to happen had become a foregone conclusion the moment he kissed her. Hell, even before that. She’d known on some level that they would end up here when she’d seen the look in his eyes after coming out of her giggle fit earlier. The fire had already been lit inside them both before he’d even set her up in the spare room.

  No words were necessary to know they both wanted what was about to happen. No consent needed to be given. She’d gone far too long without knowing the pleasure of a man, and it was obvious Paul hadn’t touched a woman since . . .