Take Me (Take Me Series Book 1) Read online

  Take Me

  Take Me Series: Book 1

  Calista Fox

  Contents

  About this Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  23. Bonus Epilogue

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Excerpt from Dare Me, Book 2 in the Take Me Series

  About Calista Fox

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

  Take Me

  Copyright © 2020 by Calista Fox

  Cover Art Copyright © 2020 by CFEN

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-64197-157-7

  NYLA Publishing

  121 W. 27th St., Suite 1201

  New York, NY 10001

  About this Book

  Book 1 in the Take Me Series

  By Calista Fox

  “You want to help me, Kate? Take your dress off and let me get you out of my system…”

  Jude McMillan’s sexy words ignite Kate Stockman’s nerve endings. Every single one of them. But as Jude’s former therapist, Kate’s secret attraction borders on forbidden—making her fantasies of the wealthy, tormented attorney even hotter. Kate knows she must resist the temptation of Jude’s dark, brooding looks, his chiseled-to-perfection body, his intriguing tattoo…and his damaged soul. Kate has enough complications in her life. Yet everything about Jude McMillan is everything her body craves.

  Jude’s desire for Kate has simmered below the surface for three years. When she’s in need of a favor from him, in the form of a date for her younger brother’s engagement party, Jude suspects Kate’s all-business attitude is secretly in dire need of an all-pleasure evening.

  Precisely what he’s willing to give her.

  1

  “I don’t fuck indiscriminately,” Jude McMillan asserted. Then winced as a sharp pain lanced through him.

  “I’m not here to judge. I listen and counsel,” Kathryn Stockman pointedly said. “And for a new twist, provide first aid.”

  She gingerly pressed a damp surgical pad to Jude’s upper back, cleaning his opened wounds. This time, he fought the flinch.

  “Did you climb into bed with a tiger in the middle of the night?” she asked.

  “One would think.” He was standing at the panoramic windows in his Lexington Avenue office, his hands braced on the ledge as he stared out at the Chrysler Building. It was a dreary day in Manhattan, with a thick gray haze ribboning through the skyscrapers while a light drizzle fell from the overcast sky. The weather mirrored his mood, which continued to blacken in Kate’s presence.

  He tried like hell not to consider how detrimental this incident might be to her perception of him. Thoroughly knowing it shouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Unfortunately, he admired and respected Kate. Spent way too much time fixated on her.

  Jude had dropped his therapy sessions with her a year ago for those very reasons. Now here he was, his dress shirt stripped off while she tended to his injuries and pried from him this new litany of deep, dark secrets he managed to keep from everyone but her.

  “These aren’t your typical sex scratches,” she commented, a slight edge to her tone, though she remained passive otherwise, as though immune to this situation—the vicious cuts and the details of the previous evening she anticipated him divulging. “These are gouges. My guess is they’re from stiletto fingernails. A dangerous trend, apparently—you actually lost some blood.”

  “And ruined three-thousand-dollar sheets in the process,” he retorted, shooting for nonchalance. Missing the mark miserably, because he loathed being in this position.

  Jude McMillan was an industrial risk insurance attorney who worked on multi-million-/billion-dollar losses. Global organizations and Fortune 500 companies kept him on retainer to head up potential subrogation activities or other legal claims and complications following epic financial, environmental and mortal disasters. He was a man sought after specifically for his expertise, attention to detail, decisive conclusions and shrewd negotiations—his proficiency coming with a lofty price tag.

  Therefore, it rankled to feel so vulnerable, so exposed, at this very moment.

  And with this particular woman.

  Kate dabbed again with the pad and his body jerked in response because he wasn’t concentrating on controlling his reactions to the pain as he glowered inwardly.

  “Sorry,” she said. “But I’d prefer you cringing than ending up with an infection.” She tossed the pad into the trash, then reached for the triple-action antibiotic in the kit she’d laid out on the end table he stood next to. “This round shouldn’t hurt. So why don’t you tell me what happened that not only left you with a crisscross map of lust on your skin, but also destroyed three-thousand-dollar sheets—and had you calling me after insisting you no longer required my counseling services?”

  “Always direct and to the point. I like that about you, Kate.”

  “I like that you generally don’t load me up with bullshit, Jude.” Her gaze caught his in the reflection of the huge glass pane and held it.

  She was a striking woman. Tall and trim, but with slightly rounded hips and full breasts. Extremely feminine and enticing.

  She had gleaming, bronze-colored hair with shimmery golden highlights. Her usual style was straight, lustrous strands draped over one shoulder. Today, however, she had loose, natural curls that tumbled down her back. Possibly because he’d reached her before business hours and hadn’t given her time to do much more than shower and apply a little makeup and lip gloss before meeting him here.

  She was stunning even without all the cosmetic enhancements he was accustomed to—and the sensuous curls made him itch to tangle his fingers in them. Convincing Jude she’d be one hell of a vision to wake up to in the morning.

  Not a path he should travel by any means, but he was always mesmerized by her breathtaking beauty. Though that wasn’t what really drew him to Kate Stockman. Yes, her tawny irises rimmed with vibrant orange were a fiery complement to her flawless, honeyed skin. And, true, every physical aspect of Kate from head to toe was soul-stirring. Yet what Jude found most captivating about this woman was her pull-no-punches attitude. Engagingly softened by her depth of emotion, her breadth of compassion…and her own buried secrets.

  She had them. He knew it.

  But Kate was a closed book. Always had been and, he suspected, always would be.

  Another reason he’d ended their professional relationship. She was permitted to delve into his psyche, his very soul. He wasn’t allowed anywhere near hers.

  Case in point, she diligently asked, “So who is this woman?”

  “I met her at the VIP launch of Topline�
�the rooftop club of the new Amherst-Hull Building overlooking Times Square.”

  “Mm. Was she your favored blonde-haired, doe-eyed, just-past-the-age-of-innocence sort…or—”

  “You don’t judge, Kate.” His gaze narrowed on her. “What the hell?”

  A long stream of air blew between her parted lips. She paused a moment, as though to regroup. Then she added the swabs of Neosporin to the surgical pads in the brushed-aluminum garbage bin alongside his mammoth, glass-topped desk. Returning to him at the window, she said, “I’m just trying to determine if that was a phase, Jude. Your taste in women changed dramatically from the one you were engaged to for eighteen months.”

  Jude studied Kate’s reflection as she reached for the fat spiral of gauze. She stepped behind him once more and wrapped her arms around him at his waist, the even more intimate proximity of her instantly igniting every inch of him.

  “Hold this end here, please,” she murmured. Her warm, feathery breath swept tantalizingly along his spine.

  Jude pressed a hand to the edge of the gauze above his navel, as instructed. She began to unravel the roll, making her first pass around his toned midsection to his back, then circling to the front of him again. All the while, he battled the erotic temptation of her rich perfume wafting under his nose. The teasing of her wispy strands of hair and the silky material of her dress against his flesh. He knew not to imagine she wore a sexy black lace bra as her breasts grazed his shoulder blades, but it was no easy feat. She permeated his senses and made his cock throb in wicked beats.

  Even when all of her current ministrations—her words, even—stung like hell, she still aroused him.

  How fucked up was that?

  As she continued to wind the bandage around him, she said, “I’m trying to figure out what happened last night. Maybe you’ll confess straight-up, so I don’t have to piece it all together myself. Because I have to tell you, Jude, these gashes are either this side of an I can’t get enough of you obsession—or a please stop fucking me cry for help.”

  “Kate,” he ground out, his intense gaze locking with hers in the window, his facial features turning stony, the thick cords of his neck pulling taut. “Take two seconds to decide which is more accurate.”

  Her brow furrowed and her hauntingly beautiful face scrunched. Uncertainty flashed in her eyes.

  Jude swore under his breath. Tore his gaze from her. He stared out at the skyline as anger burned through him. The cumulus clouds overhead threatened to break open at any second with a torrential downpour. Lightning rippled through the haze and an ominous rumble of thunder followed.

  Perfectly apropos for the storm raging within him.

  “I can’t read the barometer when you’re like this, Jude. You’re tense and moody. And I need more information.”

  He let out a low growl. Then quietly insisted over his shoulder, “You once claimed to know me well enough to champion my cause.”

  “Sure,” she conceded. Then hastily—and cryptically—added, “When I did, you cut me out of your life.”

  His gaze snapped back to the window. But connected with hers again in the pane, the image of her slightly distorted with the sudden onslaught of rain sluicing along the sleek side of the building.

  It was a wonder he could temper his fury over her having doubts about him when he was also aggravated by her obliviousness at being so entangled with him at the moment. She did a damn good job of not visibly taking in his naked torso and the tattoo covering half of his right biceps and shoulder, which she’d not known he’d had prior to today. It was a symbolic, artistic rendering that held significance to him, but to him alone. His dress shirts, suit jackets and tuxedoes always concealed the ink.

  Damn it, never once had Kate appeared to take an interest in the bodily characteristics he possessed or his overall physicality. She was interested in his mind, his actions, his motivations, his…feelings. What intrigued Kate were all the psychological fragmentations of his intricate emotional composition.

  So why the hell should it surprise him she was acting purely clinical with him now? Keeping her eyes locked with his, not letting them wander to his shoulders, his back…or his chest.

  His teeth clenched. He’d created this reality with her by never revealing she enticed him. Excited him. In a way he hadn’t imagined possible after losing Annalise.

  Jude had no one to blame but himself that Dr. Kathryn Stockman was the consummate professional.

  That did not keep her unwavering objectivity from grating on his nerves.

  Though he told her, “Perhaps we should stick solely to patching me up, Doc.”

  She let out a low tsk. Jude recognized the disapproving sound for what it was. And could astutely deduce what her next words would be.

  “I let you break free last time, Jude,” she judiciously commented. “But now…?” She speared him with a dogged look. “I don’t think so.”

  His muscles tightened. She continued speaking while snipping at the gauze with her scissors and securing it along his spine with tape.

  “Something happened that compelled you to call me—completely out of the blue. And here I am. So spill, Jude. Because I came to help you.” Her expression remained piercing. “If that’s what you want, it’s exactly what you’ll get.”

  As a rule, Jude was forthcoming about what plagued him when she asked. With the exception of that one secret he maintained—his unrelenting desire for Kate.

  He’d been smart enough two years ago to sever ties with her so he didn’t step over the line. He wouldn’t have called her this morning if there wasn’t something urgent, incessant and wholly unidentifiable clawing at him—and it had nothing to do with his latest three a.m. sexcapade. Something else had Jude spun up—and he needed Kate’s calming, reassuring presence to set his entire existence on its proper axis so he could plow through the mental roadblock.

  Granted, he’d thought a spontaneous encounter between the sheets would be just the ticket to alleviate some tension and put him in a better frame of mind to sort through the melee. To figure out what the adamant tapping of a finger on the back of his brain was all about.

  Something he needed to know. Something he did know, in his subconscious mind. Something he needed to discuss with someone… For some inexplicable reason…

  Jude had no goddamn idea, and it was maddening, because he didn’t even know where he’d start if he did choose to confide, once again, in Kate.

  He was feeling restless of late. If not somewhat reckless.

  So, yes, when the pretty blonde from Topline had batted her velvety false lashes at him and her sparkling white teeth sank provocatively into her crimson lip and her eyes glimmered seductively…he’d taken the bait.

  And was paying dearly for her uninhibited, hellcat response to him.

  Yet that wasn’t the current issue at hand. Presently, he had Kate to deal with.

  Steeling himself, he told her, “I only went down on the woman. And I don’t have a problem stopping if one asks me to—no matter how far we go. Don’t ever question that again, Kate.”

  She nodded. “Duly noted. And don’t be sore at me for probing, Jude. It’s what I do—and you know it.”

  She stripped off her latex gloves and dumped them in the trash before closing up the first aid kit and placing it into her chic Dunhill Wolsley doctor’s bag. A birthday gift from Jude she’d reluctantly accepted after their first year together. One he’d conscientiously selected because he’d recalled her mentioning being in awe of her father’s when she was a child. And while Kate was not a surgeon as Dr. Evan Stockman was, Jude had not dismissed the glint of envy she’d had over her father’s bag. So he’d surprised her with an expensive Italian leather medical tote, hoping it compared to the one she’d always admired.

  As Kate fastened the 24-karat gold clasp, she told Jude, “You were mauled; I had to make sure it wasn’t someone else’s form of self-defense. Now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s discuss why I’m really here.”

  Jud
e thought once more of that chance meeting at Topline. He said, “Her name is Britney Collins. Yes, she’s blonde. Yes, doe-eyed. Yes, newly twenty-one.”

  His aggravation mounted over the instinctual need to avoid any woman who reminded him of Annalise, with her midnight hair and sapphire eyes. Or one who looked like Kate Stockman.

  Fighting to keep from being derailed, he added, “She’s a lingerie model. When I met her, she was viewing her very first multi-story projected ad from the terrace of the nightclub.”

  “Who came onto whom?”

  “Does it fucking matter?” he inquired, his brows knitting.

  “I don’t pose arbitrary questions, Jude.”

  “Fine.” He simmered. “She hit on me.” He gave Kate a second to process this before commenting, “Are you going to say she specifically targets wealthy, powerful men?”

  “That’s not my conclusion to make; I know nothing about her. It’s possible she simply found you attractive, regardless of your tailored clothes and bottomless bank account.”

  He studied her more deliberately. “Do you find me attractive, Kate?”

  “This isn’t about me, Jude.”

  She moved past him and retrieved his crisp white shirt, draped over the back of a black leather sofa.

  “As I stated earlier, Kate, I am discriminate with my affairs. It’s been about six months since I’ve been with a woman and—”