Lone Survivor (Crescent City Kings Book 1)

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Lone Survivor (Crescent City Kings Book 1) Page 5

by Anya Summers


  “No. I like coming back here to visit. Don’t worry about Angie, Mom says it’s just the puberty talking.”

  He walked over and ruffled his son’s hair. “That’s good to know. And you don’t have to be a Ranger for me to be proud of you. You know that, right? That art school in Sarasota looks pretty neat.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Rocky replied.

  “There’s still plenty of time for you to decide.” He wasn’t sure where Rocky had gotten it into his head to enlist in the Army and try to become a Ranger like he had been. Ram was glad that he had served. But he knew how fucking awful war was, and how much of yourself you could lose on deployment overseas. He’d lost his left foot from a roadside bomb. And his heart squeezed at the thought of that happening to Rocky.

  Ram walked back over to the stove. The two months out of the summer weren’t enough time with his kids. He knew that. And he always hated it when the days in July began to wind down because it meant their time together was coming to an end.

  It was one of the reasons he worked such a hefty schedule once they left. It kept him too busy to miss them.

  The following morning, Ram dropped Angela and Rocky off at his sister Gina’s house. She was the oldest of his three sisters, whom he collectively called The Coven due to their meddling. He loved each one of the noisy busybodies who tended to pester the daylights out of him and tried to set him up with their friends—except for Becca. She was the only one who knew he was in the lifestyle, through a series of unfortunate events, and tended to field him questions that made him damn uncomfortable. She was his baby sister.

  Gina lived in the neighborhood across the street from his, which made it easy when Ram needed someone to watch his kids. While technically Angela and Rocky were old enough to be at home by themselves, with Angela’s attitude lately, he wasn’t willing to risk a potential brawl while he was away. That would go over real swell with his ex-wife.

  Gina answered the door in jean shorts and a tank top, her hair up in one of those messy knot things women liked. She was half a foot shorter than he, but she never let him forget that she was the oldest. And Ram tended to tease her about approaching the big four-oh. “Thanks for watching them for me. They have camp next week, so I should only need the help this morning.”

  “I’m just glad I get to see them while they are here. You know Dillon and Katie would love to have them do a sleepover if you need the break.” Gina raised a brow. Her gaze was so much like his, and her smile reached her eyes. They’d always been close. It had been Gina who’d pushed him to recover after coming home from the Army minus a foot.

  “How about tomorrow night?” It was Saturday night, and that way he could head to the club to relieve some tension. He’d not attended since Angela and Rocky had arrived on Memorial Day weekend. A lot of his life went on hiatus when his kids were in town.

  Considering he had been fantasizing about his newest patient non-stop, it would be a good idea to take a load off.

  Gina smiled. “It’s a date. Travis and I were going to barbecue for dinner. Why don’t you guys come for supper at six, and they can stay over.”

  “That works for me. Thanks for helping me out in a pinch.” He gave her a swift hug.

  “Not a problem. Besides, it means I can get you to watch the kids for Travis and me one night—after you get back, of course.”

  “You’ve got it. I should be back in roughly two hours.” Then he was taking his kids to the aquarium and for gelato, as promised.

  Ram arrived at his office and had just finished getting everything in order, when the door chimed in the waiting room. Taking a deep breath, he opened it and had to stop his tongue from hanging out. Sadie was wearing a breezy, seaside blue sundress that ended just below her knees. The halter top framed her breasts as if they were a gift tied up in ribbon. The color complemented her golden, sun-kissed skin, and it made him wonder what color her nipples were beneath the cotton material.

  Fuck, he had it bad. Especially when he glanced at her hair in a thick braid over one dainty shoulder and envisioned it wrapped around his fist as he pounded into her from behind. Down, boy. She had him nearly coming out of his skin, his dick twitching in excitement at her nearness.

  “Come on in and take a seat,” he said, holding the door open. She brushed past him with a tremulous smile and he caught a whiff of her scintillating ginger scent which made him want to bury his face between her pert breasts and inhale it.

  Instead of taking a seat in one of the chairs by his desk, she walked over to the two leather easy chairs with the cedar wood end table between them, and sat. Interesting choice. He did it on purpose: not indicating where the person should sit but allowing them to choose.

  The leather seating was more intimate, less formal, and he found patients typically sat there when they felt comfortable enough with him to start dredging up the depths of their trauma. It meant she trusted him.

  If she were a sub, he’d reward her with an orgasm. As she was not, he would make sure he complimented her efforts.

  He closed the door. Then, with his clipboard in hand, he joined her, sitting in the other chair.

  Before he even opened his mouth, Sadie started. “I know what you’re going to ask. Yes, I have set up some fun for this afternoon.”

  He cocked his head as he settled himself. “Good. And what did you decide?”

  “To spend the afternoon at the Hotel Monteleone’s spa—you know, facial, body wrap, pedicure. Girl stuff,” she said with such a dazzling smile, he was charmed.

  He hid his grin, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch. “And what else?”

  “That’s not enough?” Some of her smile slipped, concern scrunching her brow.

  “No, not when you have been using work as an escape and forgetting that you need balance. One afternoon is a start. It’s a good start. But I want you to start thinking about adding stuff that you do each week that is not work. Take it from me, you need more than work in your life.”

  “And do you have more than work?” she asked, nibbling on her lower lip as she studied him. There was an impudent gleam in her gaze.

  Some of her enthusiasm over her feat had dimmed. She was a fighter, and wasn’t going to surrender easily. He liked the challenge she presented; so did his dick. So much so, he shifted in his seat to hide his growing erection. The women who fought against their nature and needs—when they finally did surrender, it was infinitely sweeter than submissives who did as they were told all the time. And he ached for her, both physically, which was startling, and in his chest as she struggled with her emotions. “Yes, I do have more in my life than work,” he said. “It’s a balancing act and one I don’t always manage well. No one does. I think you are off to a great start. But it’s just the start. You and I both know there’s no quick fix. And Sadie, you must want the zest back in your life above and beyond holding on to the past. You must want to let go of the crushing guilt that you survived the accident. I know first-hand it’s not easy.”

  “How would you know?” She sniffed, trying to hold back her tears.

  “Because twelve years ago, my Army Ranger unit came under heavy fire in Afghanistan. As we were trying to evacuate, our team came across some roadside bombs. I was the only one of my team who made it out alive.” Most of him had made it out. His left foot had died on that road too.

  She gasped, her hand went to her mouth. “How did you survive?”

  “Not well, at least not the first few years. It takes time. You must have patience with yourself. It’s a baby step process. So, what you have so far is great. I’m proud of you for making those strides with a bit of pampering for yourself today. But instead of thinking short term, maybe we can make a weekly chart. And I want you going out at least once a week to do something enjoyable. It can be antiquing, or going to the movies, or meeting a friend for dinner, or spending the afternoon at a bookstore. It doesn’t have to be grandiose, but it will get easier the more you do it.”

  Her lower lip trembled, and sh
e glanced away, but not before he spied the sheen of tears. In a broken whisper, she said, “I don’t know how. I thought moving here would help, make me less afraid of going out, but it hasn’t. If we hadn’t been heading to the musical that night…”

  Oh, baby!

  Ram had to fight every urge and Dom instinct inside him that demanded he scoop her up, hold her in his lap, and soothe her. Offer her his shoulder to lean on and allow him to carry the weight of her sorrow.

  “Sadie,” he murmured.

  Her shoulders quivered and she didn’t respond. He said her name again. When he didn’t get a response a second time, he rose from his seat and knelt before her, his left leg giving him a bit of grief as he did so. Putting his hands on either side of the leather armrests, boxing her in, he said once more, with an undercurrent of command in his voice, “Sadie, I need you to look at me.”

  She shifted in the seat and her eyes met his. Her cheeks were drenched with her tears. Her eyes were red-rimmed while the tears fell unimpeded. But it was the unmitigated agony tangled with grief in her expression that did him in. Ram dismissed every protocol as a psychologist and stood, his gaze never leaving her face. Then he hoisted her up in his arms.

  “Ram,” she issued a startled cry and her hands went to his chest.

  But then he settled himself back in his seat and held Sadie in his lap. He cradled her against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin.

  “Just let it out, babe,” he crooned in soothing tones, gently running his hand up and down her back.

  She was ramrod stiff against him at first, but as he soothed, her body relaxed inch by inch. When the fight finally left her form, she turned her face into his chest and sobbed. And he let her. Sometimes all a body needed was comfort from another to truly grieve, knowing someone was there.

  Ram could lose his license for this, for holding a patient this way. Not only was it opening him up to a lawsuit should Sadie take offense, but it went against all ethical boundaries between patient and psychologist.

  And yet the Dom in him could not walk away from a woman in such heartbreaking distress. He knew he was treating her like a sub he had just scened with who had released the floodgates inside her. But in this instance, he believed it was right, that it was what she needed above all else. Because from what he had heard so far these last few days, there hadn’t been anyone to comfort her, to hold her and make her feel not so alone when her world was ripped to shreds.

  The loss of his team—hell, the loss of his left foot—had left deep, gouging wounds in his heart and psyche. He’d been shipped back Stateside a broken shell of a man. Yet, he’d had his sisters, his parents, and his kids to bully him back into the land of the living. It had been hard and gruesome. There were days when he had crawled when the weight became too great. But he had a solid support system behind him. What he was getting was that she wasn’t so lucky. That her friends in Seattle, unsure of how to help her, had drifted away, leaving her to face it alone.

  And yet, to have survived the way she had, on her own, made Sadie downright the strongest person he had ever met.

  Sadie clung to him while she sobbed. Her fingers curled into the material of his dress shirt. Her tears bathed his chest.

  “That’s it, babe, let it all out,” he crooned soothingly. His hands caressed her back and he couldn’t help but notice the supple lines of her back. Still, he was careful that his hands stopped before they reached her delectable behind—the same bottom that was cradled against his thighs and pressed against his groin.

  Ram fought his body’s most primal instincts and tamped down his growing desire for the woman in his arms who smelled of gingerbread.

  “I’ve got you… that’s it,” he murmured against her temple.

  Ram held her through the tempest of her tears, not caring that he would need a new shirt once she was done, or that he had crossed ethical boundaries today. It was what she had needed the most. It made him wonder if there had been anyone at all to hold her. She cried herself out, until she was doing no more than hiccupping against him. He soothed until her sobs quieted. Ram grabbed a tissue from the box on the end table, held it up to her face and ordered, “Blow.”

  Sadie didn’t fight him or the command and did as he asked, much like a sub. Pleasure curled in his gut at her acquiescence. When she’d finished, she shifted and glanced up at him. In this position, there were only a few scant inches between their faces. Hers was tear-stained and for the first time, he noticed that she had a few pale freckles across the bridge of her nose. But it was her round hazel eyes, that in her upset had illuminated the green, which captivated him. Looking closer, he spied gold flecks amidst the brown and green. Her eyes were framed with long dark lashes and arched brows a few shades darker than her golden flax hair.

  Her cupid’s bow mouth with the full bottom lip was slightly parted. Not for the first time, he wondered if she would taste sweet as she smelled, and how those lips would look around his cock.

  As they stared at one another, the temperature in the office rose and multiplied until it was as steamy as the bayou before a storm. Sadie’s gaze dropped to his mouth. When her pretty pink tongue shot out and licked her bottom lip, like she was imagining what he would taste like, he knew he was in deep, and made the mistake of looking back into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated and there was a question in her gaze, like she was trying to decide whether to be brave enough to close the distance.

  Lust steamrolled through him. He bit back a groan as his dick hardened. With a silent curse, he shifted, plunked her back into her seat, and retreated. He walked away, rounding his desk to put enough distance between them so he wouldn’t be tempted to cross every ethical boundary and indulge in her. He inhaled a few deep gulps of air, hoping that his raging hard-on wouldn’t be noticeable.

  Keeping the distance, he sat—rather painfully—in his chair behind his desk, needing to adjust himself. And Sadie looked at him with disappointment and banked lust in her eyes.

  Fuck.

  He wasn’t a monk, and her blatant desire frayed his stalwart control so that he was holding on by his fingernails. “I’m sorry. I breached protocol there when you were crying. I should not have done that. But you seemed like you could really use a shoulder—literally, not figuratively speaking. If I have offended you in any way, I apologize, and would be happy to recommend some other therapists.”

  “Yes… I mean, no you didn’t offend me. I did need to be held. There’s been no one there since my husband died. And my friends, I didn’t feel comfortable, mainly because it made them uncomfortable. I normally would have gone to my mom but…” She trailed off, sniffling a bit.

  Ram hated that he had been right. That she had been so alone through such hardship. It was no wonder she was struggling. “I understand. Sometimes we all need that human contact. I want you to go to your spa appointment today and spend the weekend having fun. Then we can schedule a session for Monday, where I expect to hear a full report. Sound good?”

  She nodded with a slight smile. “Yes, I can do that, sir.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Sir?”

  A tremulous smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “Since you’re acting a bit like a drill sergeant, it fits you.”

  He barked out a laugh, even as need clenched his gut. Jesus Christ, the thought of her on her knees, calling him Sir in her breathy, dulcet voice… He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I expect a full report on Monday, ten o’clock.”

  Sadie rose, wobbling a bit, like she was still unsteady from her crying fit. “I will. Thank you, Ram.”

  They had not gotten as far as he would have liked, but he believed this had been a breakthrough moment for her. With their time up, he stood and ushered her out of his office. At the exterior hallway door, he watched her leave. Once she stepped onto the elevator and disappeared, he closed his office door and thunked his head against the wood.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  He couldn’t desire a patient, no matter how sinful
she smelled or how well she fit in his arms.

  Chapter 6

  Sadie arrived at the Hotel Monteleone’s Spa rather unsteady from her crying jag. And the wobbliness wasn’t all from her tears. There was also a large dollop that stemmed from being cradled by Ram on his lap. The uber alpha exuded testosterone like some men breathed. Even through the haze of her tears, she had sensed the heat as it emanated off his body and seeped into her system. His soothing caress had made her feel like a cat, wanting to lean into his hand and purr in delight.

  The man had shocked her. The last thing she’d expected was to have him hold her. The dam inside her had finally broken, and her grief poured out so fast and furiously, she had not been able to stop while Ram had offered her a level of compassion and comfort, going beyond the call of duty. Then he had apologized for breaching ethical protocol, as if he thought she would be offended. Perhaps some people would be. But Sadie was glad he had because by god, it had felt awesome to be held. She had not realized how much she had needed it. As for whether it had felt fantastic because she had been without physical human contact for such a long period of time, or because it had been Ram doing the honors, she wasn’t certain. And, frankly, she was too emotionally exhausted to examine it more deeply.

  She could have stayed within his arms all day. He’d smelled wonderful, so much so that she had wanted to rub her face against his chest. It was a primal, seductive, spicy aroma layered with the unique masculine scent that was all him, pure alpha male.

  The maroon wooden doors to the spa made her think of a Tibetan monastery. Inside, the air was citrus-scented and there was soothing, meditation-style flute music playing low to make the place a calm oasis.

  “How may I be of service?” the woman behind the counter asked. Her voice had a hint of a Southern drawl, softening some of the consonants. Her inky black hair was artfully styled in loose curls. Sadie wanted to ask her how she’d achieved the look despite the humidity.

 

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