We Shouldn't (The Raven Brothers Book 2) Read online

  I dipped my head, laving my tongue over the nipple and then sucking it into my mouth.

  Her hand gripped my head, holding me to her tit. I sucked and licked, paying attention to her sighs and how her pussy would squeeze and massage my dick. It felt like I was going to pass out from the extreme hardon but held still.

  I brought my hand over her belly and lower, rubbing my thumb over her clit. She moaned.

  “You like that, Grace?”

  “Yes,” she said on a long sigh.

  Taking a chance, I withdrew a few inches and moved back in. She let out an “mmm.”

  I bit my lip as I moved slowly in and out of her and rubbed her clit, doing my damnedest to get her ramped up again without losing it myself.

  But soon, my cock couldn’t be denied.

  “Fuck, Grace, I need to come.”

  “Yes.” She gripped my shoulders.

  Hoping she was ready enough, I grabbed a hold of her hips and began to move in and out of her, harder, faster.

  “Yes, oh God,” she said gasping.

  Her words broke the final tether, and I let loose, pistoning in and out of her like my life depended on it.

  “Tell me you’re going to come,” I rasped out in a harsh breath. If she weren’t a virgin, I might not care very much or I would have changed our positions, but since this was her first time, I didn’t want to do anything crazier than I’d already done.

  My balls pulled into my body, and I knew on the next thrust I was going over. “Fuck, I’m coming.”

  Then her body clamped down on my cock and, holy fuck, stars burst behind my eyes as my dick thrust inside her tight pussy. I felt like every neuron in my body fired at once, it was so fucking fantastic.

  “Fuck yeah…” I said as I let out a feral groan and worked my orgasm to the end. I was heaving breaths like a bellow when I finally ran out of steam. I dropped my forehead against hers. God, I hoped she didn’t regret this.

  I lifted my head, afraid of what I might see in her eyes. She looked a little stunned behind her cat eye glasses, but not unhappy.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, rubbing her thighs in a way I hoped was comforting to her.

  She nodded.

  “You sure, Grace? Fuck, if I knew, I wouldn’t have…” I couldn’t be sure that was true. I’d still have wanted her, but maybe I would have done it better. Like in a bed. I really was a fucking asshole. “I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes shifted showing pain. Shit, what did I do wrong?

  “I know you expected something better.”

  “No. That was fucking amazing. I’m just sorry it wasn’t better for you. Your first time should be nicer.” And with someone you love. Shit, I took that from her too.

  “It was nice. You’re right. Two times.”

  I cocked my head, not quite understanding.

  “The first time you told me about your picking up women, you said you made them come two times. I didn’t believe it.”

  I grinned, feeling stupidly pleased that I’d lived up to my self-proclaimed ability. But my smile faltered as I realized she would think she was like the others. In some ways, I wished she was. I wished we could go on and pretend like nothing happened, but she had some sort of hold on me. Even now, my heart was doing somersaults in my chest. What the fuck was that about?

  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Of course, you did, dummy.

  “Just that first thrust. After that it was fine.”

  Deciding she was okay, I withdrew and took off the condom, tying it off and tossing it in the garbage. “Would you like to talk about this?” She was a counselor, so it seemed like she’d want to analyze what happened.

  She shook her head. “No. I would like to go home though.”

  Fuck. Maybe I did hurt her. “Let me take you.” I pulled out my phone and called my driver to meet us out front. I gave her a moment to pull herself back together and then led her out the back and then to the street to avoid the noise and crowd of the club.

  I helped her into the car, and she gave the address to my driver. Normally, I liked silence, but now, I felt like I should tell her things or ask her things. I just didn’t know what. The fact that she didn’t talk made it even worse.

  When we arrived at her building, I walked her to the door. Did I apologize? Did I ask her for a date? I didn’t know what the fuck to do.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She gave me a wan smile. “Yes.”

  I kissed her on the forehead, needing the contact, but not feeling I could kiss her on the lips. I watched as she entered the building, and then I climbed into the car and told my driver to bring me home.

  I knew I was an asshole. What I hadn’t realized was that even when I tried to be good, I still ended up being an asshole. I thought I’d been looking out for Chase’s interests when he first told me Sara had gone missing. I’d been sure she was after his money. I was wrong and ended up costing them their baby.

  And now, with Grace. While I knew I didn’t have love and a happily ever after to offer her, I thought we might have a good time together. She was different from the women I normally went after, and I was in need of different. But shit. A virgin? God, if I’d known that, I’d have never fucked her like that; on a desk in my brother’s club, for Christs sake.

  There was no doubt I’d wanted her physically. From the moment I’d met her, something about her pulled me to her. But I’d thought I’d fuck her and get her out of my system. Maybe it wouldn’t take one time, but eventually, we’d use up this crazy chemistry or whatever it was. Then I could go back to my life and her to hers. No harm, no foul.

  But now. Fuck. A virgin. I’d be a bigger asshole to walk away now. That’s assuming I could, because if I was honest with myself, I didn’t want to walk away. She gave herself to me. I didn’t know why. It didn’t make sense. She knew more than anyone how fucked up I was.

  I was assertive in what I wanted from her, but I gave her the opportunity to say no. Perhaps I should have let her leave when she tried to sneak away and that was where I went wrong. And now, I’d done wrong again, which would likely lead to more wrongs. Because as much as I should have let her go, she was in my system. It wasn’t just a sexual itch, but something deeper. It fucking scared the shit out of me, because it meant that I couldn’t let her go even if I wanted to.

  Way to go, Hunter, I thought as I walked to the bar in my apartment. You’ve fucked up even more. I pulled out a bottle of scotch but ultimately, put it back. I didn’t want to dull my senses. Aside from the awkwardness at the end, being with Grace had been really nice. And I didn’t just mean the sex, which was fucking spectacular.

  I liked Grace’s spunk and willingness to not take any bullshit from me or my brothers. When she threw her champagne on me, I was amused, until I realized she thought I was fucking with her. Did she really not know how beautiful she was? Perhaps after all was said and done, my fucking her in my brother’s club would prove to her that she was sexy and desirable.

  I stripped down tossing my clothes in the dry-clean pile, not caring whether or not the cleaners would be able to get the champagne out. I stepped into the shower and washed off the champagne, wishing Grace had licked it off my body. My dick liked that idea too, but I ignored him. There was no way masturbation would meet the pleasure factor fucking her for real had, so there was no sense in indulging it.

  I climbed into bed, feeling tired, but not agitated for once. It would have been nice to make it through the night without a bad dream, but I woke in the early morning from the scene of everyone chanting I was a murderer while I was falling in the pit.

  Only, Grace was saying something else. “Let go, Hunter.”

  I wasn’t falling anymore. Instead, I was clinging to a rope. “Let it go, Hunter,” she said again.

  The rope was my lifeline. Why did she want me to let it go?

  14

  Grace

  Friday / Monday

  How was it possible to feel so good and so guilty at the same
time, I thought as I showered and got ready for bed. The whole evening was a joy, except for that one moment I thought Hunter was making fun of me and I tossed my drink into his face. And the part where I tried to walk away. That was the right choice, but I shouldn’t have bolted like that. I should have told him to his face I couldn’t stay.

  I blamed the alcohol and Hunter’s potency on my inability to do that when he brought me to the little room in the club. Because the reality was, I couldn’t resist him at all. Not one bit. When he kissed me and touched me, God, that was so good. I’d always wondered why some people made a big deal out of sex. Now I knew. It was amazing. Even the little bit of pain when he first entered me couldn’t stop the pleasure of it.

  What was really intriguing was how gentle and caring Hunter had been when he realized that it was my first time. While a part of me had suspected there was a softer side to him, I’d never seen it. Maybe in little glimpses, like how he had our meeting space decorated. Or learning about the not-so-secret bodyguard duty he kept over Sara. Tonight, he lavished it on me, and it was so lovely to see the softness of his face, the warmth and concern in his eyes, and even the gentle kiss he’d given me on the forehead when he dropped me off. He made every fairy tale fantasy I’d ever had rise to the surface with yearning.

  Of course, fairy tales weren’t real. I certainly wasn’t going to be the recipient of one. I’d broken the code of ethics in my work. Guilt and shame flooded my body. I was better than that. Hunter was a big, strong man, but he was vulnerable emotionally. Sleeping with him compromised my ability to stay objective and could create additional stress on him. I had no idea what he was thinking now. Most of his sexual encounters were one-night stands. Was that how he saw what we did? In some ways that would be best, although the idea of it enraged me. I would hate it if I’d let him treat me like his other women. See, compromised.

  Of course, if he wanted to see me again socially, that wasn’t good either. That wasn’t the relationship we needed for him to heal. And that was why I needed to put a stop to it, I thought as I put on my pajamas and climbed into bed. I hoped he understood and took it well. Chances were, he’d be relieved. Maybe alcohol had gotten the best of him too, and now he was wondering why he told me I was so beautiful. I wondered if he felt guilty at taking my virginity. No, not take. I gave it to him willingly. If he had issues with that, I’d at least let him know that I’d wanted him despite my inexperience.

  Over the weekend, my emotions continued their tug of war, feeling so wonderful at the memories of what his touch did to me and guilt at letting him do it and risking my career, and even worse, his healing. On Monday, when I walked into our session, I was prepared to do what was right.

  When he walked in, he looked so handsome and even a bit relaxed. The tension in his body and face were there as always, but not as pronounced.

  “Hey Doc,” he said. He studied me like he was trying to assess my mood, as I’d done with him.

  “Hi.” I was sitting and didn’t get up.

  He sat on the couch, resting his hands on his thighs. “How was your weekend?” There was some humor in his eyes, but I could also see some concern. Like he was worried about what I thought and felt about what happened. I supposed he had some reason to be.

  “It was lovely,” I said.

  He smiled, and it was one I rarely saw, if ever; wide and real. I hated that I was probably going to ruin it.

  “The thing is, Hunter, it can’t happen again.”

  As predicted, his smile faltered.

  “And, I need to refer you to another therapist.”

  The dark shadow descended over his face. “So that’s it? You get your cherry popped, and you’re done?”

  I expected him to lash out. It was his MO. “I’ve told you from the beginning, having a relationship with a client is wrong. I could lose my license.” I’d worked too hard and invested too much to lose it, even if I was grappling with my career choice.

  “So, you’re going to cut your losses?”

  “I can’t see you professionally.”

  He looked away for a moment in what I’d come to recognize as his way of gathering his thoughts and settling himself. When he turned back, he said, “No.”

  I sighed. I wasn’t giving him a choice. “Hunter, we haven’t been at this very long and, to be honest, I don’t think I’ve helped you very much.”

  “You’re wrong.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I came in here ready to work. So, let's work. Let’s start by talking about the other night.”

  “The other night is why I have to refer you to someone else.”

  “Why me?” he asked.

  “Why you what?” I’d told him why I had to refer him.

  “Why did you let me fuck you and take your virginity. You’re in your mid-twenties. How is it you were still a virgin? You were waiting for someone special, right? But then you gave it to me. Why?”

  I had a sense of déjà vu from the other night, except at that moment, I was questioning why he thought I was so pretty.

  “The same reason why I probably should have stopped working with you before I started. I find you attractive.” We’d had sex, so there was no reason not to be honest. Plus, at the very least, I could model how to deal with challenging situations and disappointments.

  He scoffed. “My packaging is alright, but the inside is rotten. Kade or Ash would be better choices.”

  That pissed me off. “Shut up, Hunter.”

  His eyes widened.

  “I don’t know if you like people to think you’re broken and ruined inside or you really think that, but it’s wrong. You have legitimate reasons to be angry and suspicious, but you’re also kind and generous.”

  “And yet, I’m not good enough for you.” He leaned back on the couch.

  See, this was why seeing him had been wrong. By trying to do what was right, now, I was making him feel unworthy. Therapists were supposed to build people up, not make them feel worse about themselves.

  “It’s not about that. I’m your therapist. There are ethics that I violated.” I stood as my emotions began to get the best of me. Another reason I needed to let him go. “I failed you.”

  “What?” His brows furrowed in confusion. “You haven’t failed me.” He rose and came to stand near me by the window. “I haven’t used women or sex to manage my…feelings since I met you. Because of you.”

  I gave him a pointed look. “You had sex the other night.” Probably because it had been so long. See, I wasn’t special. I was available.

  “I’ve slept better since meeting you,” he said.

  “So you do have nightmares. See. You’ve never talked about that with me.”

  He looked down for a moment. “I don’t talk about that to anyone.”

  “But I’m your therapist. I’m the one person it’s safe to talk about that with.”

  His jaw tightened, and I wondered why he found it so hard to share himself with me. I looked at him, wishing things could be different. I realized I wasn’t sure what he was asking me or what he wanted.

  “What do you want?” I asked him.

  “I don’t want a new therapist, that’s for damn sure.” He sighed. “I’ve been resisting this therapy thing. It’s not your fault. But I’m ready to work, Doc.”

  “That’s wonderful, Hunter, but it can’t be with me.”

  “Why not?” His voice had an edge indicating he was getting agitated.

  “I told you why. I compromised our professional relationship. I can’t be objective.”

  He walked away, running his hands through his hair. Then he whirled around. “Did you even enjoy it the other night?”

  “Yes. I did,” I admitted.

  “Did you just want to cash in your v-card, and I was convenient?”

  I couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping but immediately felt bad about it when his eyes flashed with surprise and then anger.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “No. Hunter,
no. I’m laughing because you’re a man who has made an art out of detached sex and the one-night stand. It’s ironic to see you concerned about me when we both know you have no intentions toward me.”

  “You’re wrong.” His eyes were fierce and made me gasp, not from fear, but from the intensity of them. That was when the guilt got even worse. He was seeing more into our relationship because he saw me as helping with his demons. He was experiencing transference, or in layman's terms, falling for his therapist. He saw my caring as love. And I’d made it infinitely worse by having sex with him. Maybe I should lose my license.

  “You think I’m incapable of having feelings?” He glared at me with his hands on his hips.

  “No. Actually, I think you’re a very caring man. But I think your feelings are confused. And I made it worse by giving in to you. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t.” He pointed his index finger at me. “Don’t ever say you're sorry about fucking me.” He lifted his palms up and turned away.

  I was losing control of this. “I don’t regret it.”

  He shook his head, still not looking at me. “Yes, you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be firing me.” He was right.

  “I wouldn’t change it. But I can’t ethically continue to work with you.”

  “So why do we have to stop seeing each other?”

  “Because your feelings aren’t real.”

  This time, he laughed. “You headshrinkers are full of bullshit, you know that? You push and push to share feelings and then when we do, you tell us they’re not right or real. What kind of fucked-up thing is that?”

  I could see his point, which meant I wasn’t doing a very good job of explaining our situation. “I know it’s confusing, and I am pleased that you’re talking to me about all this now. It’s good for you, Hunter. But professionally, I crossed the line. I broke the rules. It wouldn’t be fair to you if I continued to see you. You need to find another therapist. I’ve written one down for you that I think will be great. He’s a former vet too.” I handed him the slip of paper I’d been keeping in my pocket.