Escape to Ecstasy. Jodi Lynn Copeland
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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.”
He was outside and about to close the door when the brisk nip of the wind registered against his bare skin. It was low sixties at best, cooler-feeling in the breeze. Not only had her words unsettled him to the point he’d failed to put on a shirt and shoes, but he’d forgotten about the whole trust deal.
Shit. Maybe he wasn’t up to handling her right now.
But, yeah, he was. He could do this. He was the head healer for a reason, and, despite what Nic thought, it went beyond his friendship with Treah.
Drawing a calming breath, he turned around to find Claire had followed him nearly to the door. The sex-seeking siren from the kitchen was gone. Unconcealed fear filled her eyes as she surveyed the area around him, like she thought at any second someone was going to jump out of the trees and fire a pistol her way.
Her gaze fell on him, and her fear clouded over as a saucy smile formed on her lips. “Forget to kiss me good-bye?”
He couldn’t have planned a better opening. Yet he hesitated to take it, unable to stop from wondering how quickly she would turn away if she knew what he really was.
Promising himself that all she would know him as was the man who eradicated her fears, Chris retraced his last steps and pulled her into his arms. “Matter of fact, I did.”
Her lips opened a slice with her surprise. He pushed his tongue inside to cut off any reply and taste the teasingly wet warmth of her mouth.
Claire’s client file claimed she was a hellcat in bed. The way she boldly took his ass into her hands and rubbed her mound against his cock as she kissed him back with vigor, he believed it. She circled her breasts and pelvis against him with each silky swipe of her tongue. Her pubis connected with his erection and heady sensation slipped through him, tightening his balls as it warmed his blood.
The hot, soft press of her body was such a sweet contrast to the chilling wind he’d encountered seconds ago, he could just melt into her. Just let her keep going until they were both naked and writhing together on the carpet.
Nah, hell, he couldn’t.
Before she made him forget his intentions a second time, he lifted her up his body. Her legs twined around his waist, and he did a slow backstep out the door. Not far, just enough so the morning sun could leak down on them. Just enough so she might hear the tidewater lapping at the sand past the fast-blowing wind.
Just enough that the second he broke from her lips, she was going to have a holy conniption.
Taking control of the kiss, Claire brought her hands to his back. Short nails, painted the same powder pink as her toenails, nipped and scraped at his skin. Rocking her pelvis against his abdominal muscles, she moaned into his mouth, and then went back for another rocking that jolted electric sensation straight to his groin.
And that was all the farther he dared to let her go without giving her the full-on primal scratching she’d gone months without.
Chris slid his hands to her ass, allowing a quick cup and squeeze of her rounded backside through her jeans. He took hold of her ankles then, and untwined her legs from his waist. She glided down his body, nails feathering along his back and her sex grinding torturously slowly along his. Releasing her lips at the last second, he made certain she was steady on her feet and then stepped backward.
Her eyes had fallen closed at some point. She opened them now to grin at him. “Mmm…That was—That…” The passion died from her expression. Gaze narrowed, she looked to her left and drew a sharp breath.
Claire’s gaze snapped back on his. Terror burned in her eyes and her face was washed of the high color of seconds ago. “You. You.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, crap. I’m going to be sick.”
3
Hoping—make that praying—this wasn’t really happening, that he hadn’t used her attraction to him to get her outside his house, Claire looked around a second time. A cluster of huge, camouflaging trees rose up on either side of the house, which looked more like a cabin with its log siding, screened-in room off to one side of the structure, and smallish size. A hammock was tied to the trunk of two more trees, solitary and feet from where the sun shone on a white-sand beach with churning tidewater lapping at its fringes. The sun’s rays bled down on her, warming her despite the blustery wind.
That wouldn’t be possible through a window or wall.
A gasping sob broke past her lips with the realization that no amount of hoping or praying was going to