Me.
Jess was perfect. All I had to do was direct the fire inside her toward the right things. I smiled. Sex was one way to handle her—I still bore the scars from the other night, deep scratches from her stilettos in my back, nail marks that ripped across my chest. I was proud to wear them. That was the kind of passion I loved. It was the kind of passion I wanted to taste again and again.
Desire slid like hot oil to my crotch, tightening my cock. I took a deep breath. Then another. Work first. Fun later.
“Jess,” I called out and knocked on the door. Harder this time.
Through the gap I saw Jess stirring. Slowly at first, then her head turned.
“What the fuck!” She saw me and jumped out of bed like her panties were on fire.
I grinned at her muffled exclamation. She looked like a wild cat, coiled low, ready to pounce, except for her hair sticking out in every direction.
“Morning.” I waggled my fingers as the curtains were yanked apart.
She opened the door, staring at me as if she didn’t understand why I was there.
“How the hell do you know where I live?”
I gave her a look. “You don’t seriously think I’d let you run away from my place on your own in the middle of the night, do you?”
Jess’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “You…so ever since I…”
“Go apoplectic on your own time,” I countered. “You’ve already wasted enough of mine.”
“I haven’t even decided if I want to do this,” she spluttered.
“Oh no, you don’t. You agreed to this in Baltimore at that charity event. We had a deal.” I hadn’t considered she might try to wriggle out of it, though knowing Jess, I should have.
“So, that night was about you suffering for the good of my knee.” Jess raised a brow that matched the jut of her jaw. “You got no pleasure from it?”
“You know that’s not true.” I couldn’t help but step closer. Talking about what we’d done that night only made me want to do it again. God, her scent alone made me want to shed her clothes and bury my face in her nakedness. “I’d love to prove that to you, but that’s your end of the bargain. Mine is to whip you into shape.” I drew a deep breath, holding in the aroma of sun-warmed apples. Sweet, but oh so tart when you bit into them.
“And what if I don’t want you to?” Her comeback lacked the necessary spark of fire, telling me Jess wasn’t unaffected either.
“You will.” I turned her around and gave a gentle push toward the bathroom. “Let me introduce you to my new program. Consider it boot camp with benefits.”
Chapter Seventeen
Jess
It was hard to generate the level of loathing required to fight Van when he stood in my door, looking all eager and sexy. I’d been half asleep and emerging from a dream when I’d seen him. Dream became reality and all I wanted was to anchor my mouth to his and have his hands roving to all sorts of forbidden places…
I grabbed my clothes and shut myself in the bathroom before I gave in and acted on my fantasies. Dark, sinful fantasies that involved a naughty, naked Van.
It would serve him right if I locked myself in the bathroom and refused to come out. Except I had a feeling he would calmly and methodically dismantle the door and not stop until he had what he wanted. Me.
The workout I could do without, but when it came to the other side of my bargain with Van, I wanted the same thing he did. It was this thought that made me get dressed in double time.
He was waiting by the window when I walked back out. My bed was made, my sleepwear neatly folded at the foot of the bed.
“I see the little cleaning fairy has been hard at work?” I quirked my lips upward.
Van shrugged. “I want you to conserve energy. You’re going to need it.”
I threw him a dirty look and he grinned wider, his good humor grinding like sand between my toes. I had to go out through the apartment to get my bag. No way was I putting myself in a position where I was without my wallet again.
Of course, Cole had to be in the living room. He looked up from his laptop, his welcoming smile fading when he saw I had a man in tow.
“Who’s this?” He half rose from his chair.
“Van Sheffield. He’s a therapist.” I didn’t realize I’d shielded Van until he stepped out from behind me.
“Vance Sheffield?” Cole sat back, his expression clearing. “I didn’t know you’d signed up to his program.”
“Neither did I.” I scowled at my brother. As soon as he’d realized who Van was, Cole had switched from wrathful over-protector to therapy pimp. Van could have laid me out on the table and shagged me silly and Cole wouldn’t have said a thing.
My jaw tightened and I made for the front door before I said something I might regret. Like exactly what kind of treatment Van was giving me. Boot camp with benefits, wasn’t that what he’d called it?
“What about breakfast?” Van called a halt to me leaving, pointing toward the kitchen.
I swore under my breath. “I’ll get something on the way,” I said out loud.
Cole and Van shook hands and introduced themselves. Van could stay and make nice with my brother, but I just wanted to pay my debt and for the day to be over.
Van caught up before I reached the top of the landing. “You didn’t tell him about us?”
“Tell him what?” I started down the stairs. “We have an arrangement. He’s happy. You’re happy. What else is there to say?”
Van gave me a funny look. “Nothing, I guess.”
He exerted his authority and made me stop for breakfast on the way to his place. But he didn’t get to pick what I had. I bought a cream-filled chocolate donut, a carton of strawberry milk and a pack of gum, eating with great gusto as he led me back to his apartment. He showed me to the spare room where an examination table had been set up. As well as a desk, two chairs, and a shelf full of skeletal examples of knee joints, hands, and vertebrae.
“Why don’t you jump up and I’ll start by looking over your knee,” he invited.
“I thought you weren’t my therapist,” I grumbled. “This feels an awful lot like a paid session.”
“It isn’t. But, as a friend, I’d be stupid to try anything without using my therapist skills to ensure what we’re doing won’t hurt you. So, stop prevaricating.” He patted the table. “Hop on up here.”
I drew off my shoes and stretched out on my back, trying to relax. The padding was thin and uncomfortable. Clinical examinations categorized me into a series of joints, muscles and ligaments. I knew what was coming, the comments on my wasted muscles, which tendons weren’t working right—I got it. I was broken. I didn’t need to hear it one more time.
Van finished washing his hands and I closed my eyes. He cupped the calf of my injured leg, sending shivers across my skin. I clenched my jaw shut, not sure if it felt good, bad or indifferent. I tried not to flinch as he followed the line of my ligament.
His fingers stilled. “This isn’t working, is it?”
“Sorry.” I looked up. “I suffer from an allergic reaction to therapists.” I widened my eyes. “You’re lucky. Usually I come out in hives.”
Van’s mouth twitched. “Let’s try something else.” He held out his hand to help me up.
I gladly let him. Anything was better than suffering through yet another meaningless examination. And I was curious. I followed him as he took me back out of the apartment, walked a block down the street, and stopped outside a two-story building wedged between a bicycle store and a tattoo parlor.
I eyed the sign dubiously. “We’re going in there?”
“My apartment belongs to the clinic. The lease comes with free membership to the gym here.” He ushered me inside.
“A sparring gym?”
“Yes.”
Van led me into a small locker room. He opened the end door and pulled out two thick boxing pads. He rummaged again and came up with some gloves.
“Here, put these on or you’ll hurt
your hands.” He threw them at me.
They were thin and black with a small cushioned area around the knuckles. I pulled them on and Van came over to do up the Velcro tabs so they were nice and tight. His breath ruffled my hair. My heart was already pounding and his closeness did nothing to slow it down.
I wanted to lean in close and nuzzle at his neck, fill my lungs with his heady male scent. I licked at my top lip, imagining the flavor of him bursting on my taste buds. It was a relief when Van finally pulled back and I sucked in a breath of fresh air as he put his hands through the loops at the backs of the pads.
“Usually we just access the weight room,” he explained as he led me to a wide matted area. “But I think you might enjoy this.” Van held the pads up so they were level with his chest. “You’re so full of anger. You wear it like a shield. It tightens your muscles and you’re not allowing them to move freely. So, come on. Give it your best shot.”
I let out a bark of laughter. “What? Hit you?”
“Well, I’d prefer you hit the pads.” Van smirked. “But yes, that’s the general idea.”
I shook my head. Then gave the pads a halfhearted bat. I felt silly. This had nothing at all to do with my knee.
“Come on, Jess. You’ve got more in you than that.” Van pushed the pads at my face, challenging me.
I didn’t need a second invitation. Squaring my shoulders, I widened my stance, centering my weight on my stronger right leg.
I went at it. One. Thwack. Two. Thwack. Three. Thwack. I was winding up for another hit when Van pulled back.
“Good. But I think you’ve got more. Come on. Harder.”
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. As I moved sideways, my knee caught, but I changed my stance and compensated by putting the weight to the front of my foot so my calf took the brunt of the stress. As I found the easiest position, my focus narrowed onto the pads, drawn into a world of my own as I reached deep into the pit of burning anger and let loose one punch after another.
Sweat rolled down my face, my arms burning with the release of expended energy. I didn’t know how long I kept going, but my punches started to slow until I could barely hold my fists up.
Van lowered the pads.
“Is that it?” I held my breath in an attempt to stop my panting. “Why don’t you put gloves on too?” I wiped at my brow with the back of my hand. “It’d be more fun if you were fighting back. Unless you’re scared?” The taunt would have sounded more effective if I hadn’t been wheezing like a locomotive.
“Fighting back comes another day.” Van removed the pads and put them under his arm. “For now, I want you to tucker yourself out. It’ll make things easier.”
“What, so I’ll be more malleable?”
“Yes.”
A spark of anger flared in my gut, only I was too damn tired to do anything about it.
“Shit.” I dropped my head and rolled my shoulders to ease the ache.
“Not everything’s for my benefit.” Van grabbed my wrist and undid my gloves. “Don’t you feel better?”
Too exhausted to do much else, I took a moment to examine how I felt.
“Yeah. I guess.”
“I could’ve kept going in the exam room, but by this stage you’d be wanting to drive a stake through my heart. This worked better for both of us. This was about both of us getting what we want.”
“And what do you want?” I couldn’t help but be suspicious.
“I want to see what you can do. I think you have a lot more in you and I want to help you realize that.”
I said nothing, confused. On one hand, he said he wanted me on his program. On the other he had me climbing walls and hitting him in a sparring gym. The fact he thought I was capable of doing these things meant something to me, but I was still waiting for him to pull his therapy shit. For the real treatment—AKA pain—to start.
“So, now we both know exactly what we’re here for, shall we get on with it?” I muttered.
“Sure. Why don’t you rinse off first.” Van directed me to the showers.
“Want to come and join me?” I threw over my shoulder, not sure if I meant it. Or maybe I did. A bit of fun under the water with Van would hold off reality a little bit longer.
Van looked tempted. He even took a step forward. Then he stopped.
“Better not,” he said with genuine regret. “It’s still my turn.”
I took my time rinsing off the sweat sheening my body after the workout, wondering what game Van was playing. He seemed to be straight up when spelling out his intentions for me, but it couldn’t be that simple.
Still, he was right, although I hated to admit it. I was a whole lot more relaxed by the time we went back to Van’s apartment and I climbed on the exam table a second time. Van went through his assessment, treating me more like another therapist than a patient. I liked that. He talked through all the points of my injury as he found them, good and bad. I didn’t mind it as much as I’d thought I would.
I liked having his hands on me too. As the examination progressed, his fingers lingered longer on my hips, his thumbs brushing nearer to the vee of my thighs. I allowed my legs to part slightly and let the warm heat of desire sweep over me. Van leaned in, his crotch coming to rest on the edge of the table, not two inches from my hand. I could feel the heat of his erection. A prickle of awareness crept across my shoulders, my pussy growing damp. Hot.
I bit my lip. “When is it my turn?”
“Soon.” His voice was low and husky, sliding across my body like a caress. “There’s one more thing I want to do.”
“Will it hurt?” My tongue touched my lip.
“Oh no.” The heat of Van’s gaze blazed over me, burning into me. “But I think you’ll like it anyway.”
Chapter Eighteen
Jess
I twisted on the exam table to watch Van disappear into his bedroom. My body screamed confusion and I was about to burst into flames with wanting him.
What was he up to? Van never did what I expected, and that alone kept me waiting. My mouth tweaked upward into a frustrated smile.
This wasn’t like any therapy session I had been to. Hell, I’d be the first one lining up at the clinic if they ran programs like this.
Correction. If it was Van running them. I doubted very much that any other physiotherapist I knew had the power to wind me up until my body throbbed with the need to obey his every command. It was a scary thought.
I tried to relax. Lying back against the pillow, I clasped my hands together in a tight knot on my belly and took a deep breath.
“Ready for your next exercise?” Van startled me out of my false calm.
I rolled my head to the side and opened one eye. He was framed in the doorway, something thin and black wrapped around his hand. Van unrolled the fabric slowly, letting me see.
“A tie?”
“A blindfold, actually.”
He stepped into the room and my heart stuttered in a quick double thud. I wasn’t sure whether it was from Van’s presence, or the sight of him curling the tie back around his hand and slowly unraveling it again. Either way, it was a turn-on.
My mouth went dry. “Hardly inventive, is it?”
“I’m improvising.”
He came to stand beside me, trailing the pointed end of the tie down my arm. It tickled, my skin super-sensitive. A quiver of heat shot through my belly, dampening my crotch.
He chuckled at my reaction.
“You want to use it?” I rubbed my hands across my thighs, my palms clammy.
“Is that all right?”
Van slipped the fabric between his fingers, smoothing them all the way down until the end snapped free. My eyelids flickered but I couldn’t stop staring.
“Is this your idea of teasing?” I swallowed, trying to salvage what little bravado I had left. “Talking me to death? Because I have to say, it isn’t really working.”
Van’s laughter slid across my senses like a sexy caress, kicking my awareness up a couple of notches.
“Oh, I’m going to enjoy training with you,” he murmured.
The sound of the word training didn’t usually trigger my hormones the way Van was doing right now. My body tightened with anticipation, heat gathering in a knot in my belly. I shifted on the table. Restless.
“Shut up and get on with it!”
Van held still. “So, we agree what I do next is part of my side of the deal?”
I frowned. “I guess so.” I was finding it hard to concentrate when I was on the verge of combusting. I bit at my lip. Something told me he wasn’t playing fair, but there would be time enough after his little experiment to pay him back double for anything he did to me.
Van hadn’t so much as twitched until he had my agreement. “I want to check on your sensory reactions,” he went on to explain in his best bedside manner, all damn innocent, like he really was doing this as part of my therapy program.
It was the look in his eye that said different. As did the sizeable erection pushing out the fabric of his pants.
“Well, if it’s part of my treatment…” I gave in to temptation and lay back. Yeah. I wanted this as much as Van did. More, probably.
His smile was enough to assure me that what he did next would be to my benefit. Leaning in, he fastened the tie around my head, tying it tightly so it sat across my eyes.
“Can you see anything?”
“No.” My answer was little more than a croak of sound.
I fought the urge to reach up and touch the covering. My world had shrunk to one of complete darkness. A surge of panic tingled cold fingers down my spine. I squirmed on the table.
Being deprived of sight made me uneasy, but I liked it. The edge of danger, of not knowing what Van had in store for me. I trusted him, I realized. And I felt alive. My senses were heightened, my body coiled tight, half scared, half eager for what might happen next. All I could hear was the rasp of my own breath. I sucked air deep into my lungs. Held it until I recognized silence, then let go. Better.
A rustle of fabric sounded at my left, loud against the velvet darkness. Pitch black. My eyelashes fluttered against the material and I tilted my head to follow the sound.
Her Release (One Night Stand Book 3) Page 10