He’d closed his notebook. “So, are you ready to get started? Some body consciousness exercises?” He put his notebook back onto the side table and pulled himself forward so he was sitting a little closer to me.
I blushed.Shit.I really had to get a handle on this whole blushing thing. It was so embarrassing. Damn autonomic reflexes.
“Uh, yep. Sure. What should I do?” I mirrored his movements.
“Nothing yet. I want you to sit back and relax.”
I closed one eye and cocked my head at him.
“Just where you are. Against the sofa.”
I settled back and rested my head.
“Close your eyes. Focus on my voice and my touch.”
I shot a hard look at him.
“Relax. I’m just going to touch you over your clothes, but you need to feel relaxed so that you can pay attention to the feelings. Now close your eyes.”
This time I listened to him.
Chapter Seven
Ryan
I knew it was wrong. And I did it anyway.
“We’re going to begin with some simple breathing exercises, okay? I want you to put your hands on your stomach and practice breathing in with your nose, and then out through your mouth. You should feel your stomach rise and fall. Now let’s try it.”
I put my hand on hers and gently brought them both to rest on her stomach. As I touched her, I couldn’t help noticing how soft she was and that her fingertips were painted a very pale shade of pink. Yeah. Fucking nail polish. This was what I’d been reduced to. I was noticing fuckingnail polish. Because my newclientwas so fucking hot it was messing with my brain. And there was no way I couldtellher that.
At least not yet.
Not at all,my subconscious whispered.
I took a deep breath, frustrated at not experiencing the control I usually felt at this stage.
“I’m going to move my hands around and touch you in different places now, Natalie. I want you to tell me how it feels.”
As I surveyed her, my stomach twisted into an unfamiliar knot. Surrogacy was a means to an end for me. Sure, I liked sex. Almost every man does. But I’d sown my wild oats years ago. For me, surrogacy was a way to pay the bills. This job gave me the flexibility to stay in school, which was great. The women that walked into my office were clients, nothing more. It wasn't only that I didn't happen to be attracted to them. It’s that it wasimpossibleto be attracted to them. In a clinical environment, it was always easy for me to divorce myself from any selfish sexual urges.
That is, until now.
The memory of last week was still fresh in my mind and made me cringe. I should have left as soon as I’d seen her in Lisa’s office. Something dangerous was lurking there. But no, I was a greedy bastard, and I'd stayed there next to her on the couch, pretending nothing was wrong. Hell, my code of ethics even had a second chance when I’d seen her in the hallway. But I let her and her big fuckin’ puppy-dog eyes talk me out of it.
She had fucking gorgeous eyes.
So here we were. With me somehow assuming her desperate need to do this work was more important than whatever I thought was going on between us. She was no longer the hot chick from the library—she was my client, on the sofa in my office, gently practicing her breathing exercises. But even as I cupped her hand in mine, I stared down at her pink lips, wondering how they’d taste, knowing I was dancing on a razor-thin line.
Cherries. No, strawberries. Yep, I bet they’d taste like strawberry ChapStick.
What if I went ahead and kissed her now? I mean, we’d have to eventually anyway. There really wasn’t a reason we had to wait. I mean, clients all go at different paces. I mulled over the question as she stilled, the breathing finally calming her. She’d been so worked up earlier; it reminded me of a young bull at a rodeo. I knew it was just nerves. It happened to a lot of clients, but with her, it was cute—almost endearing.
“How are you feeling now?” I asked quietly, my own heart feeling like it was going to explode in my chest.
“Mm. Good,” she purred, without a trace of anxiety or anger. Mission accomplished. Her face was calm, and with her eyes closed, she wasn’t noticing my staring.
“Good,” I said, squeezing her hand. “Do you feel my hand?”