Look After Me (25 page)

“Are you kidding me?”

She looks serious for a moment until her face begins to tremble and a burst of laughter escapes from her lips. “Yes, I’m kidding! I can’t believe you fell for that! I’m beginning to doubt your body guarding tendencies if you’re scared of my parents. I think you’re losing your touch.”

In one simple move, I have her on her back with me nestled between her legs.

“I’m losing my touch?” I ask incredulously. “Do you need to feel my touch in order to prove I still have it?”

Her eyes lustfully flicker and she instinctively widens her legs for me. “It’s worth a shot, I guess,” she says nonchalantly but her body trembles beneath me as I grind my hardness against her.

I caress the back of my fingers along the side of her neck, watching intently as goose bumps pebble against her delicate skin. “Can you feel that?”

“Hmm, kind of.”

I bite back a smile and continue my pursuit along her body. My finger moves down to her chest and over the bump of her breast, lingering my thumb against her puckering nipple that is clearly happy to see me. She arches her back and relaxes her eyes until they flutter closed, her chest rising and falling.

“Can you feel it now?”

She writhes. “It’s getting a little warmer.”

I continue my trail down her stomach. Once I reach the bottom of her shirt, I push it over her stomach and lean down to press a gentle kiss just below her belly button. “Is that getting warmer?” I kiss against her bare skin and dip my tongue inside her navel.

She shudders with a breathless moan. “Yes.”

I shuffle myself down the sofa until I’m eye to eye with her core, knowing how wet she must be under her panties. I inhale sharply and press my nose against her pussy, making a husky sound of appreciation. “Hmm, you smell so good.” I’m not usually so vocal, but for the task at hand, it’s perfect. A shaky exhale leaves her pretty pink lips as I press my index finger along the center of her core, then apply a little pressure against her clit. Her hips buck and thrive against my face.

“Can you feel that?”

“Yes,” she mumbles again. I love how she reacts from just a few simple touches. She’s on the edge already and I’ve barely done anything.

I gently undo the top button of her jeans and blow along her sexually heightened skin as I pull down the zipper. A shiver tremors down her body. I slide her jeans over her hips until white lace comes into view then push my hand under the material, tracing against the mound of her pussy. My cock strains against my jeans when I feel how slick she is between my fingers. I assault her opening with two fingers and I almost lose it when I feel the walls of her pussy tightening around my fingers. As she wriggles restlessly through her state of euphoria, with my fingers still pumping in and out of her, I move back up her body.

“Do you still think I’m losing my touch?” I breathe over her lips.

Her lust-filled eyes take in mine and through another sensual moan she laughs. “No.”

I gently press my lips to hers. “That’s what I thought.”

And that’s the last spoken word . . . Well, the last
lucid
spoken word that is spoken between us. We soon get lost in the midst of our heated lust, unable to focus on anything other than the two of us.

After our intense sexual escapade, we lie naked on the sofa. Addison is on top of me, her face nuzzled into my neck as we try to get our oxygen levels back to a stable rate. It was so intense that at one point I seriously thought I was going to black out. It was like the inner caged animal in me had been unleashed and I was stopping at nothing. If it weren’t for my strong physique, I probably would have popped my hip out of place.

Addison sits up and looks down at me with a smile. “Do you realize that you arrived here two hours ago for our counseling session and I’ve done zero counseling?”

I chuckle, caressing my hand down her back. “Well, we’re not doing anything right now.”

“I’m not having our counseling session while we’re naked!”

“Why not? It could be a new technique. I reckon more people would be inclined to speak out in their sessions if their hot counselor were naked,” I say with a wicked smile.

She playfully slaps my chest. “Totally not happening. And I don’t think my boss would be too happy if I began stripping down to my birthday suit during work hours.”

“I didn’t mean you. I’m the only person who’s allowed to see you naked during any counseling session.” I give her a mischievous grin and duck my head to the side to miss another playful hit.

“Even you don’t get those privileges. It’s hardly professional.” She goes to get off me but my hands grip her arms in place, stopping her.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to change, and then we’re going to get down to business.”

I smirk. “I thought that’s what we already did.” I burst out laughing when her hands come flying at me.

With a sparkle in her eyes, she bites back a smile. “Oh my God, you are just something else.” She stands up in all her naked glory, picks up her pile of clothes, and glares at me before turning her back, swaying that hypnotic ass side to side like a pendulum clock as she walks away.

“Just make sure your hot naked self is covered up by the time I come back out or I won’t give you a taster of what’s to come on Thanksgiving.” She looks over her shoulder and winks before she continues to her bedroom.

By the time she returns I’m fully dressed—minus my socks—and I finally have my dick in check. My naked distraction is now covered up in the same jeans I peeled her out of not even twenty minutes ago and a thick, unflattering sweatshirt. What she doesn’t know is that even though she’s covered up her main attributes, she still looks sexy as hell, even in a frumpy basketball sweatshirt.

“Nice sweatshirt.” I grin.

She’s barely able to hold back a smile as she takes a seat in front of me on the coffee table and crosses her legs, getting into a comfortable position. “Okay,” she begins seriously, “for the next hour we are not friends, we are not lovers, and we don’t even need to like one another. We are simply client and counselor.”

I sit back and smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

“So how are you feeling this week?”

“I’m good, amazing even. I’ve just started having a sexual relationship with a friend of mine and she’s hands down the best lay I’ve ever had.”

Her foot flies and kicks me in the knee. “Sebastian!”

“All right.” I chuckle, holding my hands up in surrender. “I’ll be serious, I promise.” I know I can’t lose track of my recovery process just because I’m getting laid. I need to focus. “I’m honestly feeling great at the moment. I feel healthy, I feel happy, and I’ve started to feel like my old self again.” I don’t add that the reason for my happiness is sitting only a foot away. “I’m starting to feel like the person who was lost all of those months ago is slowly coming back, piece by piece.”

“Do you think your heart will be one of those pieces that will return?”

Her words leave me gasping for air, speechless. Why would she ask me that? Is she asking that question in hopes that my heart will eventually mend and fall into the warmth of her hold? Haven’t I already explained this to her, that I can never give her that part of me? My heart has been so badly damaged that nobody can fix me, not even her. It’s physically impossible to mend something that is irreparable. It’s a scientific fact.

I quickly realize I’m drawing conclusions from very little evidence and that I’m not talking to Addison my friend or Addison my lover. I’m talking to Addison my counselor who only asks impartial questions, not ones that will impact her emotionally as my friend.

“No . . . I don’t. That’s a piece I’m a hundred percent confident won’t return. Ava shattered that piece of me for good and I’m slowly coming to terms with that. But knowing what love can do, how it can destroy you, it’s a piece I no longer want. I’m better off without it.”

I know that love is unexpected and all that crap, but I’m going to fight so that I won’t be another victim of heart-wrenching love.

After everything I’ve gone through, and knowing what rock bottom feels like, I can’t chance falling back into the trap where darkness is my only friend. It nearly destroyed me once.

I won’t let that happen again.

If only I could turn my emotions off and live life without giving a crap, it’d be perfect. But I’m a guy who has never been able to handle his emotions well. When I feel inner pain, I always feel it deep within my bones.

Shit. Why do I do this to myself?

Just the mention of Ava sends me into a spiraling mess, and the moment of happiness dissolves into a sea of darkness and hatred. All I want is to forget that she even exists so I can get on with my life, but she’s the mother of my child. There’s no escaping her.

“God, I’m like a broken record,” I mumble, angry for allowing these constant trail of thoughts to entomb my brain. I’m sick of the same old shit going around and around in my head. I need an escape.

I need Addison.

“Hey, what happened then? You completely zoned out on me.”

I blink unevenly until my eyes lock on her pretty face. In one swift move, I pull her from the coffee table and onto my lap, causing a whoosh of air to escape her lungs.

“Whoa, what you doing?”

“You were too far away.”

She gives a small smile. “This,” she says, pointing to our sitting position, “isn’t client/patient protocol though. I thought I already made that clear.”

I thread my fingers through her hair and focus my eyes solely on hers. “I don’t care. I’ve had enough talking for one day.” I press my lips to hers and sink my tongue into her mouth, savoring her incredible taste.

Laughter vibrates along my tongue before Addison pushes me away. “We’ve barely started.”

“Again, I don’t care. The only therapy I want right now is the one where I’m buried inside you.” A husky groan escapes her lips and the inside of my jeans swells at the very sound. Jesus, I can’t seem to get enough of her.

“Sebastian, you know I love sex with you, but sex isn’t the answer to your problems. It won’t solve anything.”

I grind my hardness against her. “It will sure solve the problem in my pants though.”

Her eyes flicker closed, and it takes her a moment to reopen them again, her breath altering slightly with her heightened lust. After spending two weeks exploring her body, I’ve come to recognize her telltale signs and right now, she wants me,
desperately.

“I have an idea.” She has a sexy glint in her eyes that has me on the edge of my seat with anticipation. She moves and sits back down on the coffee table, crossing her legs.

“For you to actually get what you want, you have to give me what
I
want.”

“And what’s that?” I’m intrigued.

“Your words. So for every question that you answer, I’ll remove a piece of my clothing.”

Every one of my senses just went into overdrive at the thought of my own personal strip show. She’s good—I’ll give her that. “Okay. Hit me.” I clasp my hands together stretching my arms out as I crack my neck, giving her my best ‘game on’ face.

She gives me a half smile before her serious mask sets in place. “Tell me what was going through your head when I asked the previous question?”

I breathe out heavily, wishing I could forgo the question and go straight to the naked part. I contemplate lying to her, but my conscience wins out.

“At first I was wondering which version of Addison was asking that question—Addison my counselor, Addison my friend, or Addison my lover. After an internal battle, I came to the conclusion it was my counselor. Then Ava got inside my head which just pulled me back to that dark and miserable place and I was left reeling at how emotionally fucking broken I am.”

After a short moment, she bends down and, much to my dismay, removes a sock and drops it to the floor. I just bared my soul to her and she takes off her fucking sock? But I know what she’s doing. She’s purposely taking things slow so she gets more out of me. If it weren’t for the swelling between my legs right now, I wouldn’t even be playing this tit for tat game with her.

“Why do you think you’re emotionally broken?”

I pause again for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. “It’s a few different reasons really. One, when things get really personal, I become so emotionally stinted that I lose myself in drugs just to try and keep the pain at bay. Two, after months of trying to keep Ava out of my head, it takes one little memory to bring the pain back and then I’m self-loathing Sebastian again. Any grain of happiness is always overshadowed by darkness. And three, I have a broken heart.”

I expected her to take her other sock off, but she surprises me when she lifts her sweatshirt and creates a windswept look as she pulls it up over her head. A look I find sexy as hell. She’s still wearing two more layers, but I can now see the curves she was hiding under her sweatshirt.

“I’m surprised. I thought you would have gone for your other sock.”

“I thought you deserved a little bit more since you’re cooperating nicely.” She smiles. “Being emotionally broken isn’t a bad thing. It’s a normal emotion to feel during distressing times. But with you, I get the distinct impression you’re ashamed of it. Why is that?”