Coming Clean (12 page)

“Ah, but anticipation is the catalyst of everything worth waiting for, darling,” a silky-smooth, accented voice said from the doorway.

I jumped, startled by the new presence I hadn't heard approaching. With my pulse still racing, I turned in my chair just in time to see the door close as the woman who'd joined us tilted the corner of her mouth up into a sultry smile.

Standing at nearly six feet tall, she was dressed in a black leather pantsuit that hugged her generous curves so tightly it must have taken her hours to get into it. Creamy skin covered a regal neck and collarbone, while the deep cut of her jacket boasted a plentiful bosom. I'd wager she wasn't wearing anything more than a matching bra under that suit, if that. Black peep-toe heels of no less than five inches were on her feet, accounting for her height, with bold red nail polish adorning her toes, which complemented her fingernails. Platinum blond hair was stacked in a complicated up-do of curls, braids, and more curls, each strand threatening to fall lose from the weight of it, yet it looked carefully controlled. Much like her demeanor.

She crossed the room to the wingback chair at my right, her walk something like a Pied Piper for grown men that commanded a following.

“My name is Dr. Minkov, but considering the personal topic we'll be discussing, in depth,” she said with a not-so-subtle meaning as she took a seat, “I prefer to be as informal as possible. So please, call me Katya. And you are?”

“You don't know who you scheduled a meeting with?” Shaw wasn't nearly as tongue-tied as I'd become in this woman's presence.

“I find that an introduction of one's self can be an icebreaker of sorts. Like an alcoholic finally breaking his silence and deciding to discuss a problem he hasn't seen as a problem until he says it out loud.”

Shaw set his shoulders. “We're not alcoholics. Or sexaholics, for that matter.” He'd gone from more relaxed than I'd seen him in a long time to defensive again.

“Ah, but there is a problem, is there not?”

“I'm Cassidy,” I told her, hoping to ease the mounting tension.

Katya leaned forward, the movement sending a waft of her perfume to caress my senses. I'd had no idea
forbidden
was a scent, but she was wearing it as if it were a designer fragrance of her own making. I was still caught in the spell of it when I registered her hand on my knee and the flagrant squeeze that followed before she looked directly at me and said, “I look forward to becoming very intimate with you, Cassidy. You've pleased me well already.”

I swallowed hard, clearly affected by her words. This woman had to have been a dominatrix in her off time because, though I didn't know how I'd pleased her, I found I was eager to do it again.

Katya's eyes were stunning. Catlike in color—golden brown with a jade green burst that fanned out into a darker outer ring—and framed by dramatic lashes and dark eyebrows with a definitively perfect arch. Her lips were lush, stained the same color red as her fingernails, so plump one bite promised to yield the sweetest juice. I nibbled my own lip, not realizing it until Katya's gaze went to my mouth and she smiled before pulling my imprisoned lip free with her thumb.

“I'm Shaw.”

I sobered at the sound of Shaw's voice, having forgotten for a moment that he was in the room. No idea what had come over me. I wasn't into women, but Katya exuded sex. Male, female, it didn't matter.

Katya turned her attention to Shaw, but it was a distinctly different sort of attention. No hands-on greeting like I'd just received. And he seemed unaffected by her obvious charms. In fact, I think I detected a low growl of warning from him. Was he jealous of a woman?

“Shaw.” She inclined her head in acknowledgment before she sat back, her posture perfect, chest proud, legs crossed, and arms regal on the armrests of the chair. “Before we continue, I must first determine whether the two of you can benefit from the sort of coaching I provide. I'm quite unorthodox in my methods, and, as such, I need to be sure you qualify for my services.”

“You're interviewing us?” Shaw asked, surprised by the role reversal.

“Yes.” Her answer was simple, confident. “What do you hope to accomplish during our sessions?”

My palms had begun to sweat. Why was I suddenly so nervous? “I'm not really sure what to expect from our time with you.”

“Sex,” she said, matter-of-factly. Bulgarian. Her accent was definitely Bulgarian, and it carried an alluring undertone of sensuality. “My purpose is to help coax that spark you once had back into a raging inferno. I want you to burn for each other, for your desire to devour the very oxygen in the air until you're breathing fire into your lungs, pumping molten lava through your veins, and feeling the threat of self-combustion with your every orgasm.”

“Sounds…dangerous.” Judging by Shaw's mocking tone, he was not impressed.

But I was. “I think it sounds exciting.”

Katya's grin was mischievous. “Danger and excitement should be the foundation of every sexual encounter. If your heart isn't racing, your pulse pounding, how else will you know you're alive?”

As if commanded by her words, my body reacted in the same manner she'd described, and I understood what she meant about feeling alive. I'd felt the same way when Shaw and I had first started our clandestine relationship, back when being trapped in an elevator or the back of a limousine or the bathroom on a private jet meant we were about to embark upon a sexual adventure like none I'd ever known before him.

“When do we start?” I sat forward with unabashed eagerness.

Katya gave me another one of those approving grins. “You are willing. I like it. But when one learns to swim, he or she does not simply jump into the deepest part of the sea. You must first get your feet wet on the beach, feel the sand caress your toes as the surf beckons you forward, and then wade into the shallow water until you've become accustomed to the pull of the ocean and learn to simply let go and allow it to set you adrift.”

How had she managed to make swimming so devastatingly sexy? As the daughter of a fisherman, practically born and raised on the ocean, I could appreciate the analogy.

“We already know how to swim,” Shaw interjected. “What you're describing sounds an awful lot like you want us to get lost at sea.”

“Are you not already lost? Is that not why you are sitting here with me at this moment, seeking my help?” Point well made. “Splashing around in the water will only make waves and create a lot of noise, an invitation for a predator to have a sampling of your dinghy if you are not careful.” Katya grinned at her own double entendre. So did I.

“Consider me a lifeguard, Shaw,” Katya told him. She certainly had the whole
Baywatch
look down. “My guidance and the methods I use will only act as a flotation device until your lessons are complete. Are you agreeable to that, or are you such a master of the sea that you do not need my help?”

I turned toward Shaw, placing my hand high on his thigh and giving it a squeeze. “I want to feel the pull of the ocean.” Making a show of letting my eyes rake over his body to settle on his crotch, I licked my bottom lip and then pulled it between my teeth. “Please?”

He crooked a finger under my chin, lifting my gaze to his. Startling blue eyes stared back at me, a measure of lust present there that I hadn't seen in quite some time. When the pad of his thumb swept over my lip, I pressed a kiss to it. And there went that sexy half grin/half smirk of his that made me weak in the knees. “You have no idea what it does to me to hear you beg.”

Oh, I had an idea, all right. Even though I was sure it had pained him to do so, I remembered a time when he'd kept his cock away from me when I'd wanted it in my mouth so bad I couldn't stand it. Shaw had only given me my way after I'd begged and pleaded on my knees.

Dear God, we hadn't even begun our session yet, and I was already aching for a release. Maybe I'd take another from him once we returned home tonight.

“She will be doing a great deal of begging…if I decide the three of us are a good fit.” Katya's reminder that she hadn't yet agreed to take us on as clients was like a douse of cold water to the smoldering hot coals Shaw had just stoked.

Keeping my hand right where it was on Shaw's thigh, I shifted to face her. “When will you know?”

“Before you leave here this evening.” Katya stood, doing the Pied Piper thing again as she went to her desk and took a seat. She opened the folder that sat atop the cherry-red leather blotter and picked up a pen. “Let's get to it, shall we? I'm going to ask some personal questions of the both of you to help me get an idea of where the issue may lie and whether I can help you. And if you feel these questions are too personal”—she gave Shaw a pointed look—“we will not be a good fit as things are going to become much, much more personal than that, I assure you.”

Shaw covered my hand with his as he readjusted his position the slightest bit. A semi-quiet gasp of surprise fell from my lips when I felt something rigid graze my palm and I looked directly at the spot of contact. It wasn't just something rigid. It was his cock. Clearly he was so onboard with all of this now. When I met his eyes, I was rewarded with a pantie-melting wink.

“Shoot, Doc,” he told her, redirecting his attention.

Katya had just looked up from the folder, having missed the exchange. “Do either of you have any issues preparing for sex?”

Shaw's brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Katya leaned forward, enunciating each of her next words. “Does your cock get hard for her?”

I looked between Katya and Shaw, markedly turned on by the topic at hand. Though I already knew the answer to her question, I wanted to hear how Shaw would respond. If the rest of our discussions with Katya were going to be anything remotely close to this, I'd do anything to make sure we passed her test.

“I don't have a problem getting it up, Doc. In fact, I'm hard for her right this very second.”

Any other woman would've looked to see the truth for herself, but not Katya. She merely grinned, a muted “touché” adorning her expression.

“And how about you, Cassidy?”

Oh. How to answer this? “My body reacts to his,” I told her. “I just don't, um, orgasm during sex like I used to.”

Shaw went rigid beside me, obviously still ego-struck by the truth. But we were here to fix it, so I had to be honest.

Katya tilted her head. “Is that so? And why do you think that is?”

I shrugged. “I guess because it doesn't feel good.”

On cue, an exaggerated, insulted
pfft!
from Shaw. He pushed my hand from his lap. “Sex with me doesn't feel good? So I suck in bed now?”

Of course he would take offense.

“It's not that. It's…I don't know, a mental thing, maybe? Mentally, I'm not engaged.” I drew my head back, not liking that he was making me out to be the bad guy here when it took two to tango. “Neither are you. It's like…like something we do out of habit now. And not very often, at that.”

Before Shaw could respond, Katya did some refereeing. “It's quality, not quantity, that matters,” she told me.

“Yeah, well, nothing but quickies doesn't exactly allow for much quality,” I mumbled under my breath, though I knew they could both hear me.

Shaw bristled, proving me right. “Oh, so let's just bash Shaw, right? It's all my fault? We don't have a lot of time for sex because of the hours I work. That's what you're driving at, right?”

Oh, my God! I was so exasperated by the hot-and-cold volleying we'd become so good at. He was just hard, I was just wet, and now we were back at each other's throat. My hands slapped down on my thighs and my head whipped toward him. “I'm home all day and all night, so I'm really not sure how it can be my fault.”

Shaw got that look in his eye that said he was about to put me in my place. “We'd have plenty of chances to not only
have
sex more often, but more
thoroughly
if you actually slept in our bed.”

Ouch.

Katya arched a disapproving brow at me. “You don't sleep together in the same bed?”

“Okay, fine. No. I sleep with our son a lot of the time,” I admitted, sounding very much like the accused on the stand confessing to a crime before the judge.

“I can help you,” Katya said, abruptly ending the discussion on the matter.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“I said, I can help you. But you will need to do everything I say and trust that I know what I'm doing. Will you agree?”

I knew that I should be leery of allowing a stranger to have complete control over my life, but I trusted Dr. Minkov, though it made no sense for me to. Maybe I was just desperate to get things back to the way they used to be between Shaw and me. Maybe I was just desperate to know that passion again. Or maybe I was just riding that competitive high of having won a prize. Because, yeah, we'd just aced Dr. Minkov's test and she looked well pleased!

I looked at Shaw. While it was true that we argued a lot, that was simply who we were, who we'd always been. Still, I knew with every fiber of my being that I wanted no one but him, that I'd never find with another the passion he and I had shared once upon a time. We could get it back. I knew we could. We could go back to the way we were.

“Yes,” I told her without turning away from Shaw.

All that turbulence turned into determination. The Shaw I knew and loved had made an appearance once more and I felt the first flicker of confidence that we could come back from this faraway place where we'd found ourselves.

Shaw took my hand and placed it back on his lap. “We'll do whatever it takes,” he said.

“I'd hoped you'd agree.” Katya returned her attention to the folder on her desk, pulling out some forms and handing the stack over to Shaw and me. “The first document is our contract. You'll each need to sign it before we can begin. The second is a questionnaire designed to help me get to know your desires better. I only need you to sign the contract today. Take a moment to look it over so that you understand everything that will be expected of you and what you can expect from me.”