Escape to Ecstasy. Jodi Lynn Copeland
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Chris bit back a groan and the urge to beat the shit out of himself for not only allowing Claire to put her hand in his lap but encouraging further exploration. Friday morning, when Treah passed her file his way, he knew he was in for a challenge. Once Chris had time to look through her file and discover the details of the circumstances which brought her to the island, the enormity of that challenge became crystal clear. Last night just sealed the deal.
Normally, he went out of his way to avoid the mainland. Relied on the guys hired exclusively to bring clients to the island to deliver his women to his door. With Nic’s taunt continuing to ride him, he’d embraced the escape the hour-long boat ride and another fifteen minutes of travel in Ecstasy’s employee truck had afforded. Seeing Claire come awake scared to death for his actions had made him feel shady as hell. More so because, even with the edge of panic riding in her eyes and her bangs lying cockeyed across her forehead, she looked far hotter than what her picture let on.
She looked even hotter now, from her gleaming baby blues to the naughty curve of her lips to her bare feet peeking out from beneath the frayed cuffs of her jeans. Unlike her lips, her toenails were painted—a girlie shade of pale pink. Since spending over four years surrounded by men in uniforms as severe as their personalities, he was a sucker for anything soft like that, anything that spoke of femininity.
The sweep of her fingers along his cock was definitely feminine. Tilting her head to the side, she eyed his mouth. “How long did my sister buy your body for?”
Letting her believe their time together centered on sex would be both the easy and the feel-good way out. But it wouldn’t be doing his job. Biting back another groan, this one about regret, Chris lifted her hand out of his lap and came to his feet. “This is a healing resort, Claire. I’m your mental coach, not your man-sized sex toy. I should never have implied otherwise.”
Her gaze skipped to the bulge pressing at the fly of his jeans. “Just mental? You don’t sleep with your clients?”
“Ecstasy takes a sensual approach to healing. So, no, not just mental. That doesn’t mean I jump into bed with every woman that enters my home. If things get that physical, it’s because the healing process calls for it. Even then, it only happens after I’ve had a chance to get to know a woman.”
Her eyes returned to his face, skepticism filling them. “I look that stupid, huh?”
“There’ve been one or two through the years that I didn’t know very well before things got hot,” he admitted as he rounded the bar. He wasn’t some horny teen that needed the partition between them to keep his hands to himself, but then he wasn’t going to tempt fate and Claire’s obvious desire to fuck him either.
“Years?” Amusement tinged her voice. “You’ve been doing this since you were what, fourteen?”
“Twenty-two, and I take my job seriously. I will cure you, Claire.”
She seemed to consider the vow for a few seconds and then concentrated back on her food. Relieved she’d temporarily turned off the heat—no way did he buy that it was a permanent cool down—Chris pulled his plate and glass across the bar.
They ate in silence for several minutes before she pointed out, “You never said how long I’m here for.”
“It’s a three-week package.”
A sultry smile returned to her lips as she cast her gaze down his body. “Fortunately, I already know it isn’t a three-inch one.”
She couldn’t see past his waist with the bar between them. That didn’t stop his shaft from perking right back up again. Ignoring the throb of his cock, he forced his mind on the issue that brought her to the island. “Since the shoot—The Incident—you haven’t been outside even once?”
“Obviously I have that I’m here.”
“Other than that?”
Her smile fell away. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’d be surprised what I understand.” Claire’s expression said she didn’t believe him. Trust was a huge factor in the success of these sessions. Though he could already guess how she would respond, working on that trust issue was priority number one following breakfast. “Generally these weeks involve a good deal of outside time—taking advantage of Ecstasy’s fleet of watercraft, socializing with the other women on the island, talking about your—”
“How many others are there?” she asked, bringing a bite of omelet to her mouth.
“A little over a dozen.”
“Wow.” The fork stilled in the air. “I never realized there were so many screwed-up women in the world.”
“You’re not screwed up, Claire.”
She set the fork back on her plate and slid off the bar stool. Before he could guess her intention, she was around to his side, her body inches from his own. With the bulky black sweater covering her chest, Chris couldn’t make out much about her breasts. He’d been able to tell plenty about them and the rest of her body when he’d carried her from her bed last night.
She was all lithe curves and valleys. Tall and long limbed. The kind of lushly sensual woman a guy could sink himself inside and forget his every worry. If that woman wasn’t the guy’s client.
Claire’s head tilted to the side, brushing the blunt ends of her straight, shiny hair against her shoulder. Her lips parted a breath as her eyes returned to his mouth. “Not screwed up. Not fine.” She leaned into him and placed her palms on his chest, fingers splaying warm and intimately against his bare skin. “So what am I?”
He let out a tense breath. Hell, he should have let her stay pissed. “Too close.”
“Ah, c’mon. I haven’t slept with a guy I just met in years.”
Lifting her hands away, he set her back a couple feet. The last thing he needed was for his cock to jerk against her belly and have her realize he’d probably succumb easily at this point. “Like I said, you’re not going to today either.”
“You want to.”
“I want to heal you more.” He took a drink of juice, giving her time to return to her own side of the bar. When she didn’t budge, he veered the conversation far away from the sexual. “How do you feel about one or two of the other women coming into the cabin for a visit?”
“Since I’m guessing Ecstasy doesn’t get any murderers for clients, I should be okay with it. One at a time, at least.”
No, Chris thought wryly as her words sent his gut into a vicious grinding, the resort didn’t get any murderers. No reason to with a resident murderer on staff.
This was exactly his concern with Claire for a client. Her fear, stemming from a recent senseless shooting, would keep his resurfaced anxiety over a past senseless shooting right there at the front and center of his mind.
His appetite as gone as his erection, he grabbed his fork and plate and set them beside the sink. “All right. We’ll work with that. First, I need to talk with my boss.”