The Sex Surrogate Page 4

  Was I turned on? Only more than ever fucking before. “Yes,” I admitted.

  He made a short, low, almost growling sound. “I like that,” he said, his hand moving back across my jaw, pausing, then slipping down the side of my neck. And I swear the contact felt like fireworks. I felt a small involuntary shiver shake my body. Chase chuckled slightly, leaning closer. “You're so sensitive, baby.”'

  Was I? I was usually so busy freaking the fuck out by this point that I was just... almost numb to the sensations. “Not usually,” I said, wanting to be forthcoming.

  His head dipped toward me, his nose grazing across my jaw, his warm breath on my neck. “Just for me then?” he asked and I felt my head float backward, begging for things I knew I never wanted before. Lips on skin. Hands in hair. Fingers in... places.

  “I guess,” I mumbled, eyes closing.

  “Do you want me to kiss you here?” he asked, his nose brushing across the sensitive skin underneath my ear.

  Did I? I think I did. “Yes.”

  “Tell me,” he said, his breath causing another shiver.

  “Tell you what?”

  “Tell me you want me to kiss your neck,” he instructed.

  Fuck. If the process was going to be 'I'll do things to you, but only after you ask for them', then we weren't going to get anywhere. Because I couldn't. Literally couldn't. It didn't make sense. I knew that rationally. There was no good reason I couldn't open my mouth and force the words out. But I just couldn't. No matter how much I wanted to. The words would get caught on my tongue and some sort of crippling anxiety kept me mute.

  And it wasn't just sex. It was anything that I really wanted. Or things that I wanted to stop. The words just... wouldn't come.

  “Ava,” Chase said, tilting his head up to look at me. I swallowed, looking down at him, and shook my head. “No, you don't want me to? Or no you can't ask.”

  I brought a hand up to my face, wanting to hide. The rolling in my belly was back and I knew what was next. The need to flee. I was hoping we could get further before I needed to take steps back. “I can't ask,” I admitted, my voice like a strange croak.

  “Okay,” he said, sounding unconcerned. “We can work on the verbal stuff,” he said, looking away. “But first, this,” he said.

  And then his lips touched the space his nose had traced, sending a shock through my body, making me jump and my hand slam down on the top of my thigh, balling into a fist.

  So, this was what it was supposed to feel like. The sweet, intoxicating sensation that had me wanting to sink back into the couch as my body came alive.

  His lips pressed into the skin and I felt the hint of teeth a second before his tongue moved outward and traced a slow line down the side of my neck. I swear I felt like I was going to explode. Just. Bam. Shatter into a million little flecks of desire. Because that was all that I could feel. The heat. His breath on my skin. His lips planting lazy kisses. His hand on the other side of my neck, digging slightly in.

  My head turned, giving him complete access as his lips landed down by the collar of the cardigan.

  And then he moved away, leaving my skin feeling cold.

  He sat back slightly, fingers stroking down the other side of my neck before catching in my hair. “Open your eyes,” he said, his voice soft but there was an undercurrent of heat there too. I took a breath, opening slowly to land on his bright blue. “Good girl,” he said, quietly. “Did you enjoy that?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you want now?” he asked.

  I felt my eyes go wide. Because, honestly, I didn't know. I wanted whatever he wanted to give me. I couldn't just name any particular...

  “Let's try this again,” he said and I heard a humor in his voice. “Do you want me to keep kissing your neck?” he asked, leaning down and planting a whisper-light kiss. “Or do you want to try something else for a while?”

  Choices, choices.

  Both. Everything.

  “Something else,” I decided, knowing he said the most we would do in the first session would be kissing. There wasn't a huge chance of anything to fully and completely freak me out.

  “Mmm,” his lips vibrated on my neck and I swear I felt it... vibrate... somewhere else. “Okay,” he said, slowly lifting his head. He sat back, the space between us seeming wider than before. “How about you turn around?” he suggested.

  “Why?” I asked, straightening. His hands and lips off of me, my mind was free to race again. And I couldn't think of any good reason why he needed me to turn away.

  “Because,” he said, his hand moving to my arm, rubbing absentmindedly, “I am going to give you a massage.”

  “Oh,” I breathed out, glancing at the bed, grateful he hadn't suggested we move there to do that.

  “Do you think you would like that?” I looked at him, feeling my shoulder shrug. “Okay,” he said, “let's find out then,” he said, moving back further, giving me space to move.

  As soon as my back was to him, his hands went to my shoulders, close to my neck, pressing into the knots that had become so much a part of me. Jake had offered more than a hundred times to work them out, saying how unhealthy it was to walk around all tense and in pain, but I couldn't even begin to consider undressing and letting him touch me.

  “Where are you?” he asked, his thumbs pressing up the back of my neck, “You're not with me.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, shaking my head slightly.

  “Don't be sorry. Tell me what you were thinking about.”

  “My roommate,” I admitted.

  “Why?”

  “He's a massage therapist.”

  “Ah. I see. Have you ever let him give you a massage?”

  “What do you think?” I half-laughed.

  He chuckled slightly, his hands moving down toward the center of my back. “Why don't you tell me more about him?”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are having communication issues. I figured your roommate is a safe topic to get started.” At my silence, he added, “Tell me about him.”

  “He's an asshole,” I said, and he laughed.

  “Why is he an asshole?”

  “He teases me all the time,” I admitted, feeling a little bit of resentment rise up.

  “What does he tease you about?”

  “The way I dress. How I am uptight and a little OCD about things being clean. About my needing to get laid.”

  “He sounds like a good guy,” Chase said dryly, making me giggle slightly.

  “He's actually not a bad guy all in all. It's just like... living with a teenage boy. He's a slob and has wild parties all the time. Oh, and then there's the ear-piercing screams all night.”

  “Screams?” Chase asked, his hands stilling around my hips.

  I bit my lip, smiling slightly. “Yes... from... women.”

  “Ah,” he said, his hands moving again. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

  “Only when I have to wake up in the morning and explain to said women that Jake is gone, he won't call, and they'll never see him again.”

  “Do you think that has had any effect on how you view sex?”

  “Not really. Except knowing with absolutely certainty that I don't want to do it with him.”

  “Does this feel good?” he asked, running his hands back up toward my shoulders.

  Back into the current moment, I felt my head lull toward the side. It did feel good. And that was really weird. “Yeah.”

  “Good,” he said, one hand reaching up to brush my hair to the side, his mouth lowering toward my neck and running his lips across it again. “Why don't you turn back around?” he suggested, his teeth nipping ever so slightly into my earlobe.

  “Okay,” I breathed, pulling forward and turning.

  Knowing what was going to happen.

  He was absolutely going to kiss me.

  Jesus Christ.

  I wasn't ready for that. It had be
en so long. The last time someone kissed me... it was one of Jake's party goers: tall, brown haired, attractive, with a tattoo of a raven on the side of his neck. He had been laying it on thick to a very reluctant me for hours and he finally made a move. And I managed to yield for a total ten seconds before I was starting to hyperventilate and shoved hard at his chest. Then I ran, humiliated, into my room, locking the door, and crying bitter, angry, self-hate filled tears.

  “Come back to me,” Chase's voice said, soft and deep. He offered me a small smile when my eyes landing on his again. “What were you just thinking about?”

  I let my eyes drop, making contact with his collar. “The last time someone kissed me.”

  His hand moved toward me, stroking across my cheek. “Tell me about it.” No. Nope. Can't do that. “You have to put the work in, sweetheart.”

  He was right. “Jake was having a party. There was a guy who... took interest in me...”

  “Just one?” he asked, smiling a little.

  “Yes. Just one. And he just... didn't seem deterred by my lack of enthusiasm. Then, hours later, he finally leaned in and...”

  “And what happened?”

  “I handled it for a few seconds, then freaked and ran.”

  “Hmm,” he said, his other hand moving out toward my other cheek, cradling my face. “What did he say?”

  “I never saw him again.”

  His head shook slightly, his eyes raking over me, “A face like this, baby, he should have been bringing you flowers and jewelry and chocolate until you got comfortable with him and let him try again.”

  A face like mine?

  I felt that strange fluttering in my belly again.

  He needed to stop saying sweet things. I wasn't prepared for it.

  “Do you have any idea what men would do to possess beauty like this?” he asked, shaking his head. “And, here I am, holding it.”

  Holy lord.

  I just... couldn't take this.

  “Tell me you want me to kiss you,” he urged, his words sounding almost desperate, like the suspense was too much. “Ava, tell me baby.”

  I licked my lips and his eyes went to watch intently. Did I want him to kiss me? I was pretty freaking sure I did. “I want you to kiss me,” I said, barely audibly, but he heard.

  “Thank god,” he groaned, leaning in, pulling my face toward his at the same time.

  Then his lips met mine, firm yet gentle, sending a unexpected current through my body, a soft moan escaping me. There was a second of shocked stillness before my lips started responding, pressing into his, begging for more. His head tilted slightly, taking the kiss deeper. One of his hands stayed at the side of my face, the other slid over my shoulder, down my arm, my side, sneaking around my back, pulling me close.

  And then it finally started to happen.

  The expected throat-constricting panic. I felt myself stiffen, my heart slamming hard like it was trying desperately to escape my rib cage. But I tried to fight it. In our intro session, he told me it was important to not push him away unless it was too much, unless I couldn't take it anymore. I could take it for a few more minutes. I could hold on. I could...

  “Ava,” his voice broke in, and I hadn't even realized he had stopped kissing me. He moved back, looking at my face. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the anxiety?”

  “Six or seven,” I admitted, bringing a hand to my throat like I could work out the strangled feeling.

  “Okay,” he said, moving slightly back, then turning and sitting with his back to the cushions. “Come here.”

  “What?” I asked, trying to take deep breaths and failing.

  “It hasn't exactly escaped my notice, babe, that I have been touching you and you have yet to put a finger on me. Come over here,” he said, holding an arm out wide. “Put your head head on my chest.”

  Oh, god.

  Shit.

  No.

  “At least try, Ava,” he coaxed, patient.

  And that's what did it. The willingness to let me pull away, to be rejected, without being offended. It was so new and unexpected. He was right. I needed to try.

  I scooted closer, bringing my legs up at an angle behind me, and slowly lowering the side of my face to his chest. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, taking in the slightest hint of a spicy cologne. Underneath my cheek, his shirt was warm from his skin, his chest hard. Which I found somehow comforting.

  I moved closer, my torso leaning into his side, my knees pressing into his thigh. My hand came out and landed on the other side of his chest, in a fist, but still... touching. Willingly. Happily.

  There was a long pause before his arm went around me, heavy, settling on my waist. “You okay?” he asked, his face sounding close to my hair.

  “Yeah.”

  “What's the level?”

  “Four?” I guessed, not entirely sure. Definitely better than before, but still on edge.

  “Be proud of the little victories, Ava,” he said, and his other hand came up, taking my hand, opening it, slipping his fingers between mine, and squeezing closed against his chest.

  Holding his hand. I was holding sexy Dr. Chase Hudson's hand. I felt a strange, strangled laugh catch in the back of my throat at the idea.

  His hand went from my waist, moving slowly up the center of my back. A slow, lazy exploration up my spine. I felt myself melt into the sensation. God, who knew it felt so good just to be touched?

  I closed my eyes, feeling the anxiety slowly start to settle back down, taking grateful, greedy deep breaths.

  “Ava... baby,” Chase's voice called, low, gentle, like he was trying to wake someone without startling them.

  Which, was exactly what happened I realized, my eyes flying open. Oh, my god. I fell asleep on him! How the hell did that happen?

  “Relax,” he said, his arm wrapping around my back and squeezing slightly.

  “How long was I asleep?” I asked, blinking the sleep out of my eyes.

  “Maybe half an hour,” he said casually, like it was totally normal for it to happen. “Ava, do you have any idea how comfortable you need to be to fall asleep with another person?”

  I knew. Oh, I knew. I had never been able to sleep when another person was even in the same room. Which made for god-awful sleepovers with friends and nights over the holidays when my family would come from out of town and people would need to be crammed into all available places... like my bedroom.

  “This is good, sweetheart,” he said, and I could almost swear I felt his lips kiss the top of my head, but brushed that idea away. That wasn't possible.

  I slowly pushed myself up, moving off of his chest, feeling unreasonably sad to do so. His hand slipped from mine and I put my feet back on the ground.

  Behind me, he let out a sound that was almost a sigh, but not quite. Then he sat up next to me, his knee brushing against mine, turning his head to me. “I think this was a successful session. How do you feel about it?”

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to share. Wanting to keep this memory pure, unexamined. But that was why we were there. To examine. To figure out what was wrong with me. To work on fixing it.

  “I think it went really well,” I agreed, not wanting to go into any more detail than that.

  I could feel his eyes on me for a while before he spoke again. “Thursday, same time,” he said, slowly getting onto his feet.

  I followed, watching him. “Okay,” I agreed. That gave me a day and a half to recover. And prepare. He led me out through to his main office, then the waiting room in silence. When we got to the front door, he paused, and I knew I had to ask or the suspense would kill me.

  “Dr. Hud...”

  “Chase,” he corrected, his voice firm.

  “Chase,” I agreed, trying to meet his eyes. “What, exactly, is the next session? I know you mentioned we would be...” I couldn't even say it, dropping my eyes.

  “We are each going to take our clothes off,”
he supplied, noting my discomfort and ignoring it. “We will kiss. You will touch me. I will touch you. But no sexual contact.”

  Naked. I would be naked. He would be naked. And then he expected me to touch his naked body. And to touch mine. Shit. I really didn't think that was going to go well and...

  “Ava. In the moment, okay? If you're worried about it while it goes on, we will address it then. Until then, just don't think about it.” He reached for the lock, turning it, and opened the door.

  I stepped outside, surprised when he followed me... and locked the door.

  “Okay,” I agreed, knowing damn well there was no way I wasn't going to stress about it, but not wanting to tell him that either. “Well, I'll see you Thursday,” I said, starting away, but he fell into step with me. “What are you doing?”

  “Walking you to your car,” he supplied like it was obvious. “It's nighttime, sweetheart. This is a good neighborhood, but even if it was god damn Utopian, you shouldn't be walking around alone at night looking like you do.”

  I looked down at my clothes, simple, chaste even. My body decent but not all that impressive beneath the material. “If you say so.”

  “We need to work on that,” he said as we walked down the empty street.

  “Work on what?” I asked, shivering slightly against the cool.

  “On your confidence. Because it's fucking ridiculous that you can't see what everyone else does.”

  What he does. What he sees when he looks at me.

  Oh, my god.

  I walked into the parking garage, big hulking Chase beside me, his hands tucked into his pockets, and I felt his eyes on me. When I walked ahead of him, on my ass. When I walked beside him, on my face mostly, my breasts, my legs.

  “This is me,” I said, waving a hand to my little blue not too old tiny hatchback.

  He nodded, and I fetched my keys, unlocking my door before turning back to face him, feeling like I needed to offer some kind of goodbye.

  “Thanks for... walking me,” I said, giving him a small smile.

  He nodded stiffly for a second, looking like he was thinking really hard about something. Then his eyes moved up and caught mine. “We're outside the office,” he said, oddly, making my brows draw together, “I'm not supposed to do this,” he said, bringing a hand up to run through his hair, like he was struggling with something. “Fuck it,” he said.