Loved by You (9 page)

“You have plenty going on.” He rolled her nipple gently between his fingers, squeezing just enough to cause her to gasp. “Have you been braless every time we’ve been together?”

“Yes.”

“Are you trying to kill me? You know that’s dangerous knowledge to have, right?” He pushed her shirt up, baring her.

They both looked in the mirror. The tips of her breasts were dark red, pointy and hard. He trailed his tanned hand up, running his long fingers over them, one by one. They both watched as he focused on one and teased it harder.

Her eyes dipped lower, seeing his other hand hidden by her pants but feeling everything he was doing. “This is really …”

His lips trailed up her neck to just below her ear. “What is it? Tell me.”

“Exciting.” Admitting it made her feel on the edge. Suddenly, her climax felt around a very short corner. She gripped his hair, arching back against him. “You’re going to make me come,” she whispered, meeting his gaze.

“Over and over,” he promised, biting her neck as he focused his finger on just the right spot.

She tensed, losing control as her body took over. She squeezed her eyes shut as the orgasm hit her. She writhed against him, wanting more, wishing he were filling her at the same time.

As her heart began to slow down, she heard people outside the door. Her eyes flew open, meeting Chance’s in the mirror as she remembered where they were and that there were other people in the apartment. She swallowed. “Have they been there the whole time?”

“I’m not sure. I was busy,” he said.

She shivered as his finger slid slowly over her as he withdrew his hand. He turned her around and lowered his head to lick her nipple. He was enthusiastic and unapologetic about it, hungry for her.

She gasped, feeling needy all over again, like she hadn’t just had her mind blown. “I think I need more.”

“How about we go to a place where there are fewer people walking through? Like my boat.”

“Your boat?” She perked up. “Okay.”

He gave the tip of her breast one last love bite and then pulled her shirt down. After redoing her jeans, he washed his hands and adjusted himself before unlocking the door and letting them out.

Just beyond the bathroom, the agent and another couple watched them with wide eyes.

His hand on KT’s back, Chance pointed behind them as he propelled her forward. “It’s great in there. You should try it.”

KT tried not to snicker but failed. By the time they were out of the apartment and on the sidewalk, they were both laughing.

Chance caught her up and kissed her, their laughs mingling into one. “Let’s go, sweet pea.”

KT wasn’t a stranger to boats. She’d been on her fair share all around the world. But Chance’s boat was charming and felt homey from the moment she stepped on board, despite its name.

“Blow Job?” KT asked with a raised brow as she toed off her shoes.

Standing behind her, his hands slipped under her clothing, up to cup her breasts. “I’m going to assume you’re talking about the boat as opposed to offering. It’s a sailboat. Wind, blow … Get it?”

She reached behind, pulling him closer to her. “Punny.”

“It’s the name the boat came with. I keep meaning to change it.”

“Maybe we can take this conversation and everything else inside.” It was a nice afternoon and lots of tourists walked down the Marina. “People are watching.”

“I’d unlock the cabin and let us in, but you keep distracting me.” He undid her pants. Again.

She arched back. “I think you’re the one doing the distracting.”

“Nope. I’m right on this one.” He unwound from her, unlocked the padlock, and opened the cabin below. Taking her hand, he guided her down the narrow stairs. “We’re inside. Get naked.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” she said as she shrugged her jacket off and dropped it on the floor.

“No, I’m not, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that you’re
my
boss.” He pulled his shirt over his head.

“Geez, you’re nice to look at.” She tossed her shirt aside and began to push her pants and underwear off. “You work out?”

“You want to talk about my exercise regime now?”

“Would it be more appropriate to ask if you happen to have a tattoo of a spade on your ass cheek?”

“How about if I show you?” he said as he got rid of the rest of his clothes.

She almost tripped over her shoes as she surveyed his naked form. He really was perfect—ripples of muscles and an impressive erection that jutted toward her, as if it yearned for her too. “No tattoo.”

“Are you disappointed?”

There was nothing to be disappointed about here. She ran her tongue along her lip. “So, couch? Bed? Against the wall?”

“Have I told you I love how your mind works?” He sat on the steps they’d just descended and held his arms out. In his hand was a condom. “Take me.”

She looked at the condom, not entirely sure how to tackle it. The guy always did it. But with Chance spread out like a feast, all for her, she wasn’t going to let a little bit of rubber stop her from enjoying.

As if he sensed her hesitation, he said, “Come sit on me.”

She did—eagerly. His thighs felt strong under her, and she ran her hands along his muscled chest.

He ripped open the package with his teeth and held it out. “Pinch the tip and roll it over me.”

“I can do that,” she said, taking it.

He smiled. “Yes, you can.”

She did just that, slowly, liking the way his eyes glazed over and his hips jutted up eager for her touch.

He dropped his head back. “You’re killing me.”

“Don’t die yet.” She unrolled the condom all the way down and then surveyed her handiwork. “We’re just getting to the fun stuff.”

“You’re right.” He gripped her hips. “Climb on me.”

She did, not caring that she was graceless. She just wanted him in.

He exhaled as she worked herself down on him. “One day, Karma, I’m going to take you against the wall, and in a bed. And even on your piano.”

“My piano is sacred,” she said, her hands running over him.

“Exactly.” He brought her closer to kiss her, dark drugging kisses that made her head spin.

The boat rocked. She wasn’t sure if it was from the motion of the bay or the rhythm of their love. She dropped her head back, inhaling the salt air and she looked up and saw blue sky. Gripping him, feeling joy, she laughed.

“What is it?” he asked against her neck.

“I’m delirious.” She swivelled her hips against him, gasping at the hot rush of feeling sparking between them.

“You’re going to come again,” he said, tugging her head back by her hair. “I feel it.”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes, hands propped on his chest. She felt his hands, the lick of his tongue, a stray finger—all encouraging her.

“Come with me, Karma,” he whispered. “Come with me.”

She didn’t have a choice. She came so strongly she couldn’t make a sound, feeling him tighten and rush to join her. At the end, she lay on top of him, trying to catch her breath.

He traced a hand down her spine, to her hip, shifting her into him.

She frowned though she couldn’t lift her head. “Are you still hard?”

“It wasn’t enough.” He ever-so-slowly pushed himself into her over and over.

She sighed. “This is—”

“Lightning in a bottle,” he finished for her.

She couldn’t have put it better.

Chapter Ten

Will opened his office door. “Hi Bijou.”

Her heart flopped seeing his smile, like she was in a love song of her own. She stood up, rubbing her palms on her white jeans.

“Where’s KT?” he asked, looking around his waiting room as if her sister could be hiding somewhere.

“I need to talk to you about that.” She walked inside, trying not to shiver as she brushed by him.

His cell phone rang. He looked at the screen and winced. “I need to take this. Grab a seat and relax, I’ll be right back.”

Nodding as he walked out, she dropped her bag by the couch. She wandered to the bookshelf. She expected to see psychology books and self-help titles like
What Color is Your Parachute?
There were a few books like that but there were also travel books and—

“Sheet music?” Frowning, she pulled out a book of Cole Porter standards. A strange choice for a therapist. She flipped through it stopping at “Night and Day.” Great song.

Smiling, she put the book back, humming it to herself. Her gaze fell to the shelf below where there were a few framed pictures. She stooped down to study them. In the first one, Will stood with Wynton Marsalis’s arm around him like they were great buddies. In another, he and Bruce Springsteen held up their glasses in a toast to each other. The picture frame at the end showed Will on stage playing a guitar with Eric Clapton.

He was a musician.

“Sorry about that,” Will said as he re-entered his office. “You were going to tell me where KT is.”

Bijou picked up the picture and held it out. “You’re a musician.”

“I play, yes.” He closed the door, his brow furrowing. “Does that bother you?”

“Hell, yes, it bothers me.” She set the photo back down and began to pace. “Musicians suck.”

“That’s a little ironic, considering you’re one, isn’t it?” he asked with a dry smile.

“Don’t make this about me.” She glared at him. “You lied to me.”

“Wait a minute.” He sobered, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. “I missed something here. How do you think I’ve lied to you?”

“I don’t just think it.” She pointed at the picture. “You played on stage with Clapton?”

“A couple times, yes. Does that bother you?”

“Stop trying to shrink me.” She stopped in front of him, hands on her hips. “I’m
so
disappointed in you. I actually liked you.”

“And now, because I can play a guitar, you don’t?” he asked cautiously.

She jabbed a finger at his chest. “Don’t you dare imply that I’m irrational.”

“Of course not.”

“And don’t placate me.” She poked him with her fingertip again, glaring. “I actually liked you.”

“You said that.” He took her hand and cupped it in his. “Want to sit down and tell me what’s underneath all this anger?”

“No, I don’t.” She pulled her hand free, not because he was trying to analyze her but because it was making her brain scramble. She couldn’t think or hold on to her anger while he touched her.

Which made her angrier. Why did she have such a weakness when it came to men like him? She began to pace, trying to focus on the goal here, which wasn’t getting in his pants even if that was what she thought about each time she saw him.

“Bijou.”

She glared at him. “Don’t say my name like that.”

He shook his head; his brow furrowed with confusion. “Like what?”

Like he wanted to lick her head to toe. She threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know why I’m surprised you’re a musician. I mean, look at you. You’re totally hot.”

“And this bothers you.”

“Of course it bothers me. I
liked
you.”

“So you’ve said.” His expression was somber, but she saw the humor in his eyes.

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t mock me. I’m really annoyed at the moment.”

“I had a clue or two.” He smiled overtly this time. Then he took her arm. “Why does me being a musician bother you so much, Bijou?”

“Because I’m only ever attracted to musicians,” she admitted helplessly. She touched his skin where it was exposed at his collar. “I mean, look at you. I thought you were hot and edgy when you were just a therapist. Now I’m completely screwed.”

“Bijou,” he said in his calm voice. “Let’s just talk this out. It’s not—”

“There’s nothing to talk out.” She stepped out of his magnetic field so she could think. “Do you make house calls?”

He looked at her silently, speculation in his gaze.

“Not for me, for KT.” She glared at him. “And don’t look at me like that. Therapists aren’t supposed to look at people that way.”

“What way is that?”

“Like you’re picturing me answering the door in a tiny scrap of lace when you make your house call.”

He quirked his brow and folded his arms. “Maybe you’re the one picturing it.”

Oh, yes, she was. She was wearing the barely-there negligee she bought in Paris last year, and he was on his knees in front of her, in awe.

She flushed. “Stop distracting me. This is about KT.”

“I don’t typically make house calls,” he said in his damn soothing voice, taking a seat. “Maybe you should sit down, and we can talk about what has you so upset.”

“What has me upset is that I can’t seem to break out of a destructive pattern.” She glared at him. “I blame you.”

He raised his brows. “Why?”

“Because you look like—” She waved her hand at him.

“A musician?”

“
Yes.
It’s like you’re a human chocolate bar, and I want to eat every last bit.”

“And that’s bad?”

“I won’t eat musicians.” Pouting, she dropped onto the couch and lay down on her back, arm across her eyes. “Let’s just focus on KT.”

“Why are you so intent on bringing KT to see me when she clearly isn’t interested?”

She pounded her fist on the couch. “Because my future is at stake here. If KT doesn’t get her act together, Mom won’t let me perform at their concert either, and I have
everything
riding on this.”

“Why do you need to prove yourself so badly?”

“This isn’t about proving myself.”

“It’s not?”

She scowled at him. “I’m really starting to hate when you answer me with questions.”

He smiled. “I’ve heard that once or twice.”

“I don’t think it’s wrong for me to want to realize my destiny.”

“Of course not, but at what price?” He shifted. “It’s also good to know why you want it so badly.”

“Why didn’t you want to be a working musician? You’re obviously really good if you’re playing with Clapton and Springsteen.”

“We were talking about you.”

“You were, but you’re more interesting..” She turned on her side and propped her head up with her hand. “What makes someone who’s that good go into therapy instead?”