half laughing, half groaning.
“Oh, come on. You’re young, you’re strong. Where’s all that hot Italian blood I’ve heard about?” she teased.
“At this particular moment,” he said as he leaned forward to nuzzle her neck, “it’s all in my cock. But there’s not much I can do about that, now, is there?”
“Sure there is,” she said, arching back so he could trace his tongue down to the hollow of her throat. His breath was warm against her skin, his lips soft and tender. “All you have to do is tell me what you want.”
He lifted his head and stared at her, his dark eyes gleaming in the shadowy room, lit only by a hint of moonlight spilling in the front window. His hair was tousled, his jaw shadowed, his expression hungry. Lindsey was certain she’d never seen a sexier sight in her life.
“Not ask you?” he said, catching her emphasis.
She stroked a muscular shoulder, scraping her nails lightly across that smooth skin. “I’m finding I take direction better than I thought I ever would.”
“What if I directed you to go get something out of your toy box for us to play with?”
Shivering, shocked by the excitement that rushed through her, she said, “Well, you’d have to give me a few minutes to dig it out of the closet.”
“Why don’t you do that?” he said, kissing her collarbone, his hand stroking her thigh. “Pick out your favorite.”
“I don’t have one. I was serious when I said I’ve never used any of them.”
He paused, his hand staying where it was, and lifted his head until they were face-to-face. “Yeah. About that...?”
She understood what he was asking. They’d avoided the topic for a week, she’d never come out and told him what she really did for a living, or why she had a vast collection of sexual aids. She owed him an explanation, especially after what had happened with the Kama Sutra found in the parking lot.
Steeling herself for his reaction, whatever it might be, she said, “In my real life, I’m a counselor.”
“Like, at a high school?”
That was probably a logical assumption for him to make, but she laughed lightly. “I mean, a psychological counselor. A therapist. I work—I mean, I hope I still work—at a health-and-wellness center in downtown Chicago.”
Mike sat up straight, the sheets falling onto his lap. She eyed that big, broad chest, with its light sprinkling of dark, wiry hair. He was so nice to look at. The man was amazingly handsome during the day, but he was made to wear night.
Right now, though, he’d been thoroughly distracted from all the things he did so well during the night. Gaping down at her, he asked, “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“Not an M.D., but yes, a psychologist.”
“What on earth are you doing working as a teacher?”
Lindsey sighed as she realized the mood had definitely been broken. It appeared they were going to have to talk instead of getting to the naughty things she wanted to do to him.
“I’m on a leave of absence,” she admitted. “But the timing was perfect because of Callie’s situation. I’ve tried hard not to let anybody find out who I am. I don’t think the therapist-moonlighting-as-teacher thing would go over very well here.”
“Definitely not.”
She caught her lip between her teeth, eyeing him apologetically. “That’s one reason I tried to avoid getting involved with you. If this all comes crashing down, and you get caught in the cross fire, you could lose your job, especially with that whole stupid incident with the book. I’d be devastated if you were fired because of me.”
“I won’t be.”
“I’m so very thankful that you got out of the Chicago P.D. before you got seriously hurt.”
Not saying anything, he lifted a hand and rubbed a scar on the base of his throat, as if by habit. She’d noticed it before—she’d kissed it a few hours ago.
Understanding, she murmured, “Is that a reminder of your last job?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Just my bad luck to run into a desperate gangbanger with a long knife, who was out to earn his stripes.”
An inch closer to his jugular, and he would have bled out. She didn’t have to be an M.D. to know that.
Lindsey had to close her eyes and swallow hard to give herself a moment to come to grips with that. He could so easily have been killed, could have, without a doubt, ceased to exist before she’d ever gotten the chance to know him. That realization stunned and horrified her, and again, she wondered if she’d made a mistake getting involved with him. Because, God forbid he ever had to return to that life, especially because of a stupid job!
Finally, she replied, “Actually, I think it’s your good luck that his knife wasn’t longer or his aim wasn’t better.”
“Forget about all that. It’s in the past,” he said. Then he went back to her explanation. “What’s this leave of absence about?”
“It’s about getting me out of the way because I’m a liability.”
“What?”
“My employers asked me to go. They are calling it a leave of absence, but the truth is, it’s more like probation. I have to keep my nose clean, stay out of the papers, not draw any unpleasant attention that would reflect badly on the center. Maybe then they’ll welcome me back.”
“Assholes,” he said, lying down again to draw her close.
She didn’t say anything for a moment, a little stunned at his reaction. There had been no, “What did you do?” No, “Why?” just an indictment of whoever had done something to hurt her.
Oh, this man was special in so many ways. So loyal and so trustworthy. Which was why she decided to trust him and just reveal everything.
“I work for an extremely conservative practice. Very old school and stodgy. Unfortunately, the media got ahold of some excerpts of my dissertation on female orgasms and made a big joke out of it, putting my name, and the center’s, through the tabloid wringer.”
He shook his head, as if clearing it to understand. “Women’s... Wait, what kind of counselor are you?”
Too late to retreat now.
“I’m a sex therapist. I specialize in female sexual disorders.”
He shot up again. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he jumped out of the bed, standing naked beside it, gaping down at her. His brows shot up as his eyes rounded. His mouth fell open, snapped shut then opened again, as if he didn’t know what to say. Finally he managed, “You’re joking.”
“No, I’m not.”
