Love Ignited (Hollywood Series Book 2) Page 3

  Mr. Bradley emerged a few minutes later wearing another pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt. “Please,” I said, motioning for him to sit across from me on the formal sofa. He plopped down, clearly still aggravated for having to disrobe.

  “So, I just want to go over a few things with you before I go home for the evening.” I handed him an intake packet. “First of all, here is the meal schedule and a copy of my expectations of you. You will be here for a minimum of ninety days.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Judge Macon imposed a ninety-day sentence.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll be clean in a week.”

  “I’m sure you will but—”

  “I’m not staying here for three months.”

  “All right.” I stood. “Then I guess there’s no need for me to continue. You may pack up your things and go.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You aren’t a hostage here, Mr. Bradley. You’re free to leave whenever you like.”

  “Sweet! Why did I even make the trip then?” He stood up to go back into his room.

  “Would you like me to call for your ride now or give you a few minutes?”

  “Yeah, go ahead. Hey, but could you float me a few bucks for the cab back to the airport? I really didn’t bring any cash.”

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary. See, you’ll be taken into custody by the Mission Hills Police Department, then transferred back to an LA correctional facility. As far as I know, they don’t charge for the ride.” I smiled.

  “Wait,” he said running his hand through his long dark hair. “Fuck!”

  “Decisions, decisions.”

  He sat back down on the sofa with his elbows on his knees. “So if I leave, I don’t go back to house arrest?”

  “No, no more house arrest. If you leave, you will spend the next ten years in prison.”

  “Maybe it’s for the best,” he mumbled. I was taken aback. I’d never had a patient choose prison over rehab.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I hurt people, Doc.”

  “What do you mean you ‘hurt people’?”

  He shook his head. “About those rules…”

  “Of course.” I let it go. It was a topic for therapy, not an informal sitting. “I think I’ve made myself clear on rule one, but just in case: You’ll be here for ninety days minimum. After that, the length of your stay is up to my discretion. My second rule: clean yourself up. If you aren’t growing that mop out for a role, I would appreciate it if you let Mrs. Faulkner give you a trim. Part of this program is to—”

  “Yeah, okay,” he interrupted, “I get it.”

  “Um, okay. Next, you will be respectful to Mrs. Faulkner and Mr. Peters. They aren’t your servants. They are here to assist me, not you. You may not leave the property for any reason, and you may not have visitors. And last but not least, there is the cleansing room.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “You will. You’ll be introduced to it tomorrow. You will have breakfast then come to therapy in my office at nine sharp every morning. We will break for lunch at eleven and resume our session at one in the afternoon. After our afternoon session, you will spend an hour a day in the cleansing room. Dinner is served at six. If you miss a meal, you will not eat until the next mealtime. If you miss a session… Don’t miss a session,” I warned. “Whatever free time you have after that, you may use as you please. I encourage you to enjoy the many amenities provided at this property.” I handed him a map with a small welcoming smile. “We have a golf course, tennis courts, basketball court, horseback riding, a pool, gym, and a movie theater. Please feel free to use any of those areas.”

  “So that’s it?”

  “Almost. When was the last time you used?”

  “At the front gate.”

  “All right then.” I stood and extended my hand. He looked at me strangely but shook it. “Mr. Bradley, I appreciate your honesty, and I hope we’ll enjoy working together. Have a good evening.”

  I nodded at my helpers on the way out and nearly collapsed on the porch. My unprofessionalism was inexcusable. I was humiliated. When he’d removed his shirt and I caught sight of his form, I basically eye raped the man. From the neck up, he was a mess, but beyond that, he was a vision of raw desire. His muscle tone was amazing. It wasn’t often that one could abuse drugs to the extent that he had and keep such an impeccable physique. His skin was tan and flawless except for the small tattoo on his inner bicep. I couldn’t make it out. Thankfully, I’d snapped out of my daze before I’d had the chance.

  I actually slipped off my heels and pulled the wooden piece from my hair, letting the blonde waves cascade down my back before I climbed in the golf cart. I felt like less than a professional after that slip-up, so I didn’t feel the need to look the part.

  “Ivan, it’s been a long day, pal. Let’s get home.”

  He hopped in without further prompting and nuzzled into my hair. He could always sense my mood.

  When we arrived at the house, there was a single pink gerbera daisy intertwined in the gate.

  Anna. Bless her heart. She must’ve seen how shaken I was after the spectacle in the bedroom. She was such a kind soul. She’d been with me since I opened my clinic. She had actually come here with me from Louisiana, after I finished up my residency. She’d been part of the evening cleaning crew at the hospital where I’d done my residency. She was the one who helped me escape when…

  I stopped the thought process in its tracks counting backward from ten. After I got that under control, I sat down with Mr. Bradley’s file again to occupy my mind. He’d mentioned that he hurt people. I didn’t recall reading anything about that in the file.

  I saw that his first offense was a nasty bar brawl, but no one had been seriously injured. He did a short stint in rehab after that to avoid a thirty-day jail sentence. His second offense occurred when he’d trashed a hotel room. He’d served another month in rehab then to avoid a six-month jail sentence. This was all very basic stuff for addicts.

  The offense that landed him here was a bit more disturbing. He’d robbed a man at gunpoint and stolen his car. That had led to a high-speed chase where two officers suffered minor injuries. Not many things surprised me anymore, but I was actually surprised by that one. Shoplifting for attention was something celebrities had been known to do, but armed robbery? Not so much. After all, they had the means to feed their habits.

  I didn’t usually try to make sense of crimes committed while a person was under the influence, but that just seemed outlandish. It did explain why Judge Macon was bound by law to impose such a harsh sentence though. Ten years in a maximum-security prison would be the minimum sentence allowed by California state law because there had been three felonies committed at once. He was being charged with armed robbery, grand theft auto, and assault of a police officer. The latter, on its own, demanded jail time. In fact, I didn’t know how Judge Macon had been able to get him off with just another stint in rehab. Mr. Bradley should thank his lucky stars.

  With that, I closed the file and decided to try out the pool for the first time since summer began. I slipped off my blouse and skirt, along with my undergarments, and stepped into the water, letting it caress my bare skin. The sensation of the water gliding over my body, as I lazily lay back, eased the tension I carried. I floated along the top of the water, allowing myself to fully relax in my private haven.

  I thought back to Mr. Bradley’s words. I hate female therapists. Will I have to fuck her?

  It was because of assholes like that that women had to fight so hard to get ahead in this world. The assumption that, just because I was a woman, I could be manipulated and toyed with pissed me off.

  But then again, I had let him get the better of me, hadn’t I? Or maybe it was just the opposite. I was the authority figure. I’d taken advantage of him by tasting him with my eyes when he was nearly nude in front of me.

  After a few laps around the pool, I emerged, had an apple for dinne
r and dressed for bed.

  “I need to get laid, Ivan,” I said aloud to my own reflection the mirror. Ivan wasn’t listening. He was asleep in the corner of the bedroom. I rubbed some anti-wrinkle cream under my blue eyes and combed through my long hair.

  I did need to get laid. Maybe if I was having sex, I wouldn’t be eye fucking my patients. Of course, that would require me to go out and get a social life.

  I climbed into bed, trying to call to memory the last time I had had sex…Gah! That couldn’t be right. I counted back on my fingers to make certain. It had been two years. And the time before that, I’d been in college.

  Two years ago, I had found myself in a similar predicament. I hadn’t mentally molested a male patient, but I had been lying here, just like this, trying to picture when I’d had sex. When I could hardly recall the memory of my college boyfriend and I making love, I had made the decision to have sex.

  I’d done just that. I’d gone to a bar, found a suitable man, and gone back to his place. The experience had been mediocre at best and had made me feel dirty. I hadn’t even climaxed before my bedfellow finished, jackhammering into me like a teenage boy. I’d left his apartment right after he’d fallen asleep and decided not to do that again.

  I just wasn’t one-night-stand material. I didn’t think I could enjoy sex with a stranger. I simply wasn’t built that way.

  Or maybe I could try again? It wasn’t like I was all that attuned to my sexual side. I had been with only three men, including Jackhammer Joe, as I’d come to call him, not that I had seen him again or even caught his name.

  I looked at the clock; it was only nine. With that, I threw back the covers and headed to my closet. I chose a sleek knee-length black strapless dress and a pair of Jimmy Choos. My hair was still damp from my swim, so I swept it up in a bun. I didn’t bother with makeup, just a dab of pink gloss to give me some color.

  “Don’t wait up,” I told Ivan as I walked out to my silver Mercedes. I let the top down when I got through both gates, allowing the warm summer air to swirl around me.

  The nearest acceptable bar was a twenty-minute drive from my house, just one city over. I left my car with the valet and walked into the upscale dive with purpose.

  I glanced around. Slim pickings.

  I decided I would have one drink, and if I didn’t find anyone, I would leave and not think of this again.

  “I’ll have a glass of your house white,” I told the bartender.

  He returned quickly with the glass of wine. “Are you meeting someone?”

  “I hope so,” I said with a smile. He, in fact, was the most attractive man in the room. He had dirty blond hair, light eyes and a muscular frame…and his smile was lovely. I could work with that.

  “Well, you look beautiful, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

  “Thank you.” I ran my fingertip along the rim of the wineglass.

  “I haven’t seen you in here before. I would remember a face like yours.”

  Ugh, spare me the cheesy lines… “Aren’t you just the charmer?”

  He leaned forward. “Baby, I can be whatever you need me to be.”

  Oh, just stop talking! I suddenly noticed how young he looked. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  “You’re a little young for me.”

  He leaned in closer to whisper, “You won’t be saying that when I’m between your legs.”

  Straight to the point. I liked it.

  “Show me.” I pushed my barely touched wine to the side.

  He took my hand and walked me around the corner of the bar where he stepped out to meet me. I saw him give a nod to his fellow bartender. I assumed this was some kind of “I got one” signal. I didn’t care. I’d come here for one reason. Blondie was about to give it to me.

  “So what’s your name?” he asked, leading me through the storage room of the bar.

  “Does it matter?”

  This got his attention. He stopped walking and turned to face me. He was just a few inches taller than me, maybe five-ten. I preferred a tall, dark, and handsome man, but this one would do.

  “Well, my name is Eric…just so you know what to shout out.”

  “Stop talking.” I shoved him against the wall in the storage room, pressing my fingers over his lips. He tried to kiss me, but I turned my head. I didn’t want intimacy. I wanted an orgasm. He lifted me onto a pile of boxes, sliding my dress up and my panties down. I kicked them off when they got hung up on my shoe.

  He started undoing his belt, but I shook my head no and pushed his head down. I wouldn’t be fooled again. I didn’t want another pump-pump pop. I needed to get off.

  He sank down to his knees, settling his head between my thighs. The first lick was a shock to my senses. It had been too long. The second was better, and I relaxed my back against the wall, letting my eyelids close.

  After a moment I opened one eye. It felt like he was doing the alphabet down there. I grabbed his hair and pulled him up to me. “Lick me like this—” I flattened my tongue and licked up the side of his neck, eliciting a moan from him. “Soft and slow…” I pushed him back down. Like a good boy, he took direction well.

  “Softer…soft…Yeah, right there.” I let my head fall back. “Put your finger inside of me.” He did, pumping it in and out greedily. “Slower,” I told him, eager for him to hit the right spot. It didn’t matter. I was so long overdue that I shattered against him.

  “That was sexy as fuck,” he said, lifting his shirt over his head. I let my eyes roam his body because I was allowed to. It was okay to do that here.

  “Do you like what you see?”

  I blinked at him a few times, recalling what Nathan Bradley had said earlier. “Excuse me?”

  “I said do you have a condom?”

  He released his erection, and suddenly, I was disgusted with myself. “Ah no,” I said. Why did I do this?

  “It’s okay. I’m good if you are.”

  I hopped off the boxes, pulling my dress down, my underwear forgotten.

  “Wait,” he called out, scrambling to pull up his jeans. “I can get one, hang on.”

  I kept walking back out the way I’d come in.

  “Wait,” he yelled again, chasing after me. “What the fuck?”

  “Eric, you shouldn’t have unprotected sex with strange women.” I heard professionalism re-enter my tone. He stared at me with wide eyes. I left him standing there and headed for the car.

  Had he said, “Do you like what you see?” or was I imagining things? I was hallucinating. No, he said it, I thought to myself, even though I knew he hadn’t. I wasn’t even picturing him when I heard it. I saw Nathan Bradley before me asking me the same question he had earlier, only this time, he was asking with desire.

  I tapped my foot impatiently while waiting for the valet to bring my car around. Instead, I saw him running back toward me.

  “Miss, you have a flat tire.”

  “You have got to be kidding!”

  “No, I’m sorry. I would change it myself, but you don’t seem to have a spare.”

  “What? The car is brand new! There isn’t a spare tire back there?”

  “No, I checked. Would you like me to call a taxi for you?”

  I looked at my watch. “No, that’s okay, thank you.” I pulled my cell phone from my clutch and dialed the first number on my favorites list. “Anna, it’s Ella. I’m so sorry to wake you…”

  “I’m not even going to ask,” she said a half-hour later when I climbed into her car.

  “I appreciate that.” She gave me the once-over but didn’t say anything else. As soon as she pulled into the garage of the treatment facility, I all but jumped out of the car. I didn’t ask her to drive me to my side of the property, and she didn’t offer. I shouldn’t have been ashamed, but I was.

  I punched in the code that allowed us inside from the garage. We went our separate ways in the foyer, her to her room and me to the front door. She mumbled a clipped, “Goodnight, Ella,”
before scurrying off.

  I stood at the front door for a second, rubbing my face, just trying to get over the awkwardness of what had just happened. I hadn’t even processed the fact that I’d almost had sex with a stranger…again. Suddenly, I heard someone clear his throat behind me.

  I saw a pair of dark eyes peering down at me from the second-story balcony overlooking the foyer. Mr. Bradley stared at me for a beat before walking back into his room.

  I gathered what pride I had left and walked out the door.

  Chapter 3

  Despite my staying up half the night fretting over my embarrassment, I felt quite refreshed when I woke up. Apparently, a decent orgasm would do that.

  I was sitting in my office at 9:02 a.m. drumming my fingers on my desk. I supposed it had been Mr. Bradley’s candor yesterday that had made me actually expect him to voluntarily participate in the outline I had given him. I wasn’t shocked that he didn’t show up. I was just surprised that I had expected him to.

  I pressed the intercom button on my phone to call to the kitchen. “Frank?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did Mr. Bradley come down for breakfast?”

  “No, ma’am, I haven’t seen him.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  I straightened my skirt and flung my office door open, nearly running smack into Mr. Bradley. I stood there too shocked to speak.

  Mrs. Faulkner rushed around him. “I’m sorry we’re late. It took me a little longer than I expected to tame that hair of his.”

  “No, ah, it’s fine…” I stuttered, trying not to stare. Even though his eyes still carried the dark circles of an addict, it was easy to see how attractive he was with his hair cut short and his face clean-shaven.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Faulkner,” I managed. “Mr. Bradley, please come in.” He glared down at me as he walked by.

  I closed the door and settled in behind my desk, where my mind immediately went into professional mode.

  “So, Mr. Bradley, did you sleep well?”

  “Not really.”

  “That’s to be expected. How are you feeling otherwise?”