By the Hour (The Pleasure Principle Series #2)

by Roni Loren

  “I know he’s good in bed, Marin. I’m dating him,” she snapped.

  Marin’s lips parted and she blinked rapidly. “I, uh, was going to say he’s very good at his job.” She paused for a beat. “Wait. You’re dating Lane?”

  “That is not public information. Yet.”

  Marin bit her lip, but did a terrible job hiding the spark of amusement in her eyes.

  “What?” Elle bit out.

  Marin lifted her palms and shook her head. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

  “You look like you’re about to laugh.”

  “Not in a mocking way, I swear,” she said, her smile revealing itself now. “It’s just, I sent him over to talk to you that night at the party, and you both looked like you were on death row, having to speak to each other. I would’ve never guessed. I think that’s…great. Lane’s a wonderful guy and a good friend.”

  “Then I doubt you’d want him with me. You’re not exactly president of my fan club.”

  She shrugged. “He wouldn’t be with you if you were a bad person. He doesn’t put up with much bullshit in his life from what I can tell. And you and I…well, we started off in a bad situation. You were a threat to my relationship with Donovan. I don’t put up with bullshit either.”

  “I understand,” Elle said, shame bubbling up over the ridiculous way she’d acted when Donovan had dropped their tryst for Marin. Even when she’d seen how different Donovan was around Marin, how clearly in love he was, Elle had still tried to interfere out of pure spite. Not one of her finer moments. “The situation was…unfortunate.”

  “It was. And I wasn’t exactly kind to you either. But I really don’t know much else about you except that you’re an accomplished doctor and that Oriana and your patients seem to have deep respect for you. That says a lot.” She gave her a brief smile. “So if you and Lane have found something together then…I wish you both the best. Truly.”

  “Thank you,” she said, sensing that Marin meant the words.

  “But I see now that this may be a difficult case to consult on,” she said, releasing a breath. “Dating Lane or not, he still has the same job. One of your patients is in need of his type of therapy. But if it’s too difficult to separate out personal from professional—and believe me, no judgment there because I know I’d have a tough time with that—I can make Oriana my primary contact on the case. We can handle this part of Jun’s treatment so that you don’t have to know the details.”

  Elle bristled at the suggestion that she couldn’t keep personal and professional separate. She’d spent her life being nothing but professional, but her hands were trembling and her brain was trying to paint pictures she didn’t want to see. The patient had to come first. Elle didn’t trust herself not to let her personal feelings interfere. She forced out the words. “That might be for the best.”

  “Of course,” Marin said. “Absolutely. Does Oriana know you and Lane are seeing each other or should I give her some other reason why you’re not going to be consulted on this part of the case?”

  Elle swallowed past the knot in her throat. “She knows.”

  Marin nodded. “Great. Well, we’ll handle it from here. She’ll be in good hands.”

  Hands. Lane’s hands.

  Elle’s stomach sank to her toes and nausea shimmered through her. “Sounds good.”

  Marin got to her feet and headed to the door, but before she stepped out, she glanced back. “Nice chatting with you, Elle.”

  Elle let out a breath. They hardly ever called each other by their first names, and she recognized the peace offering for what it was. “Have a good day, Marin.”

  Marin smiled and slipped out of the office, clicking the door shut quietly behind her.

  Elle put her head on her desk, her body feeling too heavy to hold up. Lane was going to have sessions with Jun Alexis. Beautiful, young, talented Jun. A rock star in her own right. Someone whose songs Lane listened to. Someone who wasn’t Elle.

  She was supposed to be handling this maturely.

  She wanted to vomit.

  Chapter 25

  Lane stepped out of the dance studio and into the night air with a smile on his face, laughing at something Carlotta had said. They’d had a victorious session tonight. Carlotta had been able to strip down fully to the costume she’d wear in the movie, no darkness, no blindfolds needed. She’d played the role of seductress with convincing confidence and had nailed her lines without a tremor in her voice. There’d been a few tears afterward but only of relief. She’d done it.

  “I can’t believe that was our last session,” she said as they headed into the parking lot, the cicadas singing so loudly they almost drowned her out.

  A breeze had picked up outside, chasing off some of the humidity from earlier in the day, and the parking lot’s sodium lights were just coming on, casting an orange glow over everything. “I never doubted you’d make your deadline. You were determined from the very start. You should be proud of yourself.”

  She grinned, her face half in darkness. “I am. I kicked ass. But I couldn’t have done this without you.” She stopped in front of him and reached out, taking both his hands in hers. “Thank you, Lane. Seriously. You’re a great guy. I thought there was no way this was going to work and then I met you, and…I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so safe with someone. You never made me feel uncomfortable or screwed up. I felt like a friend was holding my hand the whole time.”

  The comment warmed him from the inside out. That was the highest praise he could receive from a client, especially one who fought the types of demons Carlotta had to face. This was why he did this job, for moments like this when he could see the difference it made for someone. He gave her hands a squeeze. “You’re welcome. Thanks for trusting me with your treatment. I don’t take that lightly.”

  Her eyes shimmered in the soft glow of the lights and she stepped forward to hug him. He held her loosely and then she kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll send you tickets for the premiere. You can come and see your hard work on screen. Plus, my boobs in high definition—which I will choose not to think about or I’ll be back in your office in the fetal position.”

  He stepped back and smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it. And you and your boobs are going to do great.”

  She laughed, the sound echoing through the mostly empty parking lot. “Well, I guess this is good-bye for now.”

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” He led her toward the red Mustang she’d rented and opened her door for her. When she’d driven away, he took a breath, relishing that feeling of knowing he’d helped someone.

  He reached to pull his phone out his pocket to see if Elle was on her way to meet him, but the glint of orange lights off blond hair caught his attention in his periphery. He spun that way, finding a familiar face. Elle was sitting on a bench under one of the big oak trees next to the building. Her car was parked nearby, but he hadn’t seen it in the dark.

  She stood when she saw him coming her way. She was hugging her elbows, looking chilled despite the warm evening.

  He smiled when he got close and gave her a quick kiss and hug. “Hey, you got here early.”

  She glanced toward the road then back to him, a far off look on her face. “Yeah, I had an errand to run in town and I finished up earlier than I thought. Figured I’d come by in case you were done.”

  “Sorry. We ended up needing the whole time. Were you waiting long?”

  She shrugged and looked his way. “Not too long. I got to see the sunset. It was nice.”

  The words were casual enough, but something was off. Her whole demeanor was edged with something jagged. “What’s wrong?”

  “I didn’t say anything was wrong.”

  Grim awareness hit him. “You saw me with my client.”

  Elle’s mouth twitched at the corner, at attempt at nonchalance but one that she didn’t quite pull off. “She’s beautiful.”

  “That’s her job.”

  “She likes you.”

  He sighed
. “That’s my job.”

  “Right.”

  “Elle…” He reached out for her, wanting to break through whatever wall she was standing behind. “Talk to me.”

  Her throat flexed as she swallowed. “We should get going before the restaurant gets too crowded.”

  A pit settled in his stomach. She was slamming the door on the conversation, a dangerous path in this situation. But he could see he wasn’t going to get anywhere with her right now. Maybe she needed a little time to process what she’d seen. They could talk at dinner. “Fine. I’ll follow you there.”

  The festive atmosphere of the restaurant with its mariachi music and beer bottle chandeliers didn’t help lighten the stilted conversation over dinner. Elle talked about work and asked him about school. He told her about an interesting lecture he’d gone to today. But all through the meal, he could sense the crackle of tension underlying every word. He wanted to ask what was going on in her head, wanted to reassure her about what she’d seen tonight, but she shut down that lane of conversation every time he put a word in that direction. He decided it’d be best to wait until they got to his place or hers, where they could discuss it privately.

  After he paid the bill, they made their way back out into the night and he walked her to her car. “Do you want to stay at my place tonight? It’s closer and the traffic heading to The Grove isn’t bad in the morning.”

  Elle turned to face him, keys clutched in her hand. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know if you want to stay at my place?” he asked carefully. “Or you don’t know if you want to stay together tonight at all?”

  She pressed her lips together and held her elbows, her entire posture closing to him. “You smell like perfume. Not my perfume.”

  So there it was. He frowned. “I can go home and shower. My client hugged me because it was our last session. That’s all.”

  “This time. But what about tomorrow or the next night?”

  He released a breath and ran a hand over the back of his head. “Elle, I don’t know what you want me to say. We talked about this. This is my job. That’s all it is, I swear. The only woman I want is you.”

  She shook her head and he could tell she was trying not to cry. “Jun Alexis is being referred to you.”

  “What?” Marin had told him earlier today that a new client was being added to his schedule, but he hadn’t even had a chance to look at the file to know who it was or what the treatment was going to be.

  Elle glanced away. “I stepped away from the case for obvious reasons, but I caught myself watching her today in group. I couldn’t stop imagining you two together. Jun, whose album you love. Jun, who’s fifteen years younger than I am. Jun, who made you laugh and who was completely enamored with you.”

  “Jun, who I have zero percent romantic or sexual interest in.”

  She blinked, her eyes shining, and wagged her head again. “I hear what you’re saying and I believe you. I do. But I don’t know if I’m tough enough for this, Lane. I want to be but…” She pressed her hand to her stomach. “I feel sick inside. I smelled that other woman’s scent on you tonight and I just wanted to scream.”

  “Elle.” He stepped closer, tried to reach for her, but she waved him back. He took a breath, reeling in the panic that shimmered through him. “Look, I know this is hard, believe me. I’m not pretending it’s not. I’m asking a lot of you—the ultimate trust. But this is what my job is.” He touched her cheek, encouraging her to meet his gaze. “All I can do is swear to you that none of them are a threat to us. I will treat Jun like a client. That’s it. There’s only one woman I want to be with.” His heart picked up speed as heavier words hovered on his tongue, in his heart. “The one I’m falling in love with. You.”

  Saying the words aloud sent a bolt of fear through him and a wash of vulnerability, but they were the truth. He wanted her to hear them.

  “Lane.” Elle closed her eyes, tears brimming at the edges and her anguish apparent. “I want to be with you…but I don’t think I can do this.”

  The words were like razors to the gut. He reached out and cupped her shoulders, his heart squeezing tight in his chest. “Tell me what you need from me, doc. Tell me what I can do to help.”

  A few long moments passed, but then she lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed. “You could quit.”

  The suggestion was like a bucket of ice water over him. “What?”

  She wet her lips, her whole body trembling beneath his touch but her gaze earnest. “You don’t need to do this. You said it yourself. This isn’t your ultimate goal. You want to be a therapist. It’s going to take twice as long with you working so much while you’re in school. If you need it, I could…help.”

  His mouth turned dry and he lowered his arms to his side. “Help.”

  She nodded. “Whatever your job is paying for, I could help you with so that you can focus one-hundred percent on getting your degree. You could even move in with me if you wanted. My housing is covered by The Grove, and I have the space. I’d…like having you there.”

  His skin went icy from the inside out. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  “You could get to grad school faster,” she said, her words rushed. “I would’ve never gotten my undergrad so quickly if I’d had to work full time during school. It’s a win-win.”

  “Right. Win-win. You help me with housing. Pay for stuff I need. Sleep with me,” he said, voice flat. “A kept man, then.”

  She reared back like she’d been slapped and frowned. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  “Isn’t it, though? You know how many times I’ve had a rich woman who wants me in her bed make me the same offer?” His voice was careful, measured, but anger bubbled close to the surface, old demons rising from their graves. “What happens if this dyslexia turns out to be a major problem and I flunk out of school? Or decide not to go? Do you just pay my way until you get tired of me and then kick me out?”

  “Lane.”

  “No,” he snapped. “I get that this situation is hard. But don’t you see how messed up what you’re suggesting is? I just told you that I’m falling in love with you and you respond with an offer of money?”

  “It’s not about the money,” she said, her voice rising. “I don’t fucking care about money. Couples support each other’s ambitions. One goes to school while the other works. It’s not a bizarre scenario. If I quit my job to go back and get another degree, I wouldn’t think I was prostituting myself if my boyfriend helped out with household costs.”

  His jaw clenched. “I never lied to you about what I do. You said you wanted to try.”

  “I am trying, Lane. I want to be with you so badly it hurts. This is fucking tearing me up inside. But I can’t help how I feel when I think about you with a client. I’m trying to find a way to be together where I don’t have to go to bed at night and smell another woman’s perfume on your skin. I don’t think that’s out of bounds to want.” Her voice caught, tears still flowing. “I need, for once, to have someone who’s just for me. No one has ever been only mine, Lane. Not ever. I want to be the only girl you smell like.”

  The heartfelt words were launched at him and landed solid, despair filtering through him. He couldn’t deny her logic, and he couldn’t call her feelings unreasonable. Most women would agree with her.

  He should’ve never let himself hope. He thought he’d found someone who could deal with his strange occupation, who could be with him as is. But his job was too much to ask of anyone, more trouble than he was worth to someone. To her. He understood, but it didn’t mean it didn’t rip him down the middle.

  And even though he believed Elle was making her offer from a genuine place, he couldn’t go there. He’d worked his whole life to support himself, to not depend on anyone else, had chosen the streets over taking money with strings from his parents. He couldn’t let Elle pay his way. He knew how that would feel down the line after his savings ran out, knowing that the roof over his head, his food, his clothes
were paid for by the woman he was sleeping with. It would taint what they had. Color it in shades that would make it feel ugly, would channel his past too closely.

  He finally had a career he was proud of, that meant something to him. He’d worked too hard to get to this place in his life. This job had been the thing that had pulled him out of the gutter, the thing that made him feel like he was worth more than what people had told him all his life. He didn’t know who he was without it.

  And with his dyslexia, he couldn’t guarantee that he could even make it through school. This job may be the only one in therapy he could ever get. He couldn’t quit and just be the former hooker again, a guy mooching off a woman’s money.

  The reality of that settled over him like a hard, cold rain.

  “I can’t walk away from my career, Elle,” he said quietly, meeting her eyes. “Please don’t put that ultimatum on me. Don’t make me choose.”

  She stared back at him, her eyes shiny and sad, and a look of defeat crossing her face. “You just did.”

  The simple words were like a punch to the heart, the finality of them stunning him for a moment. “So that’s it?”

  She looked down at the ground, her lips rolling inward. “I’m not strong enough for this, Lane. Love isn’t strong enough for this.”

  Something spiked and painful burrowed into his gut. “Elle…”

  She shook her head, heartbreak on her face, and turned away from him. “I’ve got to go.”

  She left him standing there in the dark parking lot, holding his keys and staring after her.

  Love.

  Elle McCray had finally said the word, and it was only to tell him good-bye.

  Chapter 26

  Elle took a big gulp of her coffee as she made her way back from Saturday rounds. She’d pulled a couple of double shifts this week and her body was staging a protest over working the weekend, too, but the caffeine would have to push her past it. She didn’t want to go home to her empty house. For years that little cottage had been her sanctuary, her peaceful escape from her high-stress job. Now it was just a reminder of who wasn’t there.