I DO NOT OWN TWILIGHT OR ITS CHARACTERS

RATED M FOR LANGUAGE AND LEMONS

*********************************************************************************************************

EPOV

The awkward and familiar silence that filled the room was expected. After eight years as a sexual therapist, I'd become accustomed to the tense silence that seems to bind the tongue of a new client. Annoying as it is, it was understandable. After all, seeking sex therapy isn't listed at the top of most people's to-do list. It's hard to imagine a situation more uncomfortable or peculiar for an individual or a couple than seeking out a stranger to discuss the sexual problems threatening their relationship.

Pretending to be interested in the usual paperwork concerning a new client, I glanced up occasionally to observe the woman sitting across from me. She sat pigeon-toed, nervously nibbling at her fingernails and clearly trying to avoid making eye contact. How damned adorable she was; casually dressed in a pair of denim capris and a silk, floral print blouse. Her toes, peeking out of a pair of white leather sandals, were painted an iridescent shade of pink, and her dark brown eyes and full lips could inspire a million sonnets. Dark brown hair with mahogany highlights settled loosely around her shoulders.

She was beautiful, and everything about her screamed innocence.

I sighed inwardly as I glanced down at her client information form, this time, paying more serious attention to her answers. I winced with disappointment as all the not applicable abbreviations confirmed my suspicions.

She was a virgin.

Damn.

Considering the way I conducted my therapy sessions, this complicated matters a great deal. Not only that, but I already had my experience with a virgin, years ago, and since then, swore to myself that I would never deal with another.

Closing the folder, I cleared my throat as I sat forward. Apparently, I startled her of her thoughts, as she quickly turned to face me.

"Miss Swan, before we go any further, I must ask, what is your reason for seeking professional help?" I asked curiously, praying that maybe her answer was a mistake.

She fidgeted in the chair slightly, and then settled her hands in her lap. "Well, you see, I'm getting married soon and well …" she paused, letting her words trail off as she debated on whether to continue.

Double damn.

Engaged was not what I was expecting to hear. A silent groan of disappointment filled my chest as I wondered if this situation could get any worse. Despite my concerns, I put on my best smile and nodded my head encouragingly.

"It's OK, Miss Swan. I'm not here to judge you. A certain level of embarrassment is expected, but you need not feel shame. You take all the time you need," I said reassuringly.

After a few seconds, she schooled her features and sat up straight, squaring her shoulders as she did so.

"I want to make sure that I am able to please my husband on our wedding night. I … I've never …"

"Been with a man?"

"No," she whispered shyly as she turned away from me.

Shit.

Reclining in my chair, a massive cloud of frustration filled my head as I battled with my conscience. The irrational, dominant male in me wanted to jump her bones right then and there, and happily indulge in the opportunity to stake my claim on her uncharted territory. And yet, there was the rational, professional in me that wanted to run like hell and stay far away from the southern hemisphere on her anatomical map.

Why must being a man be so damn difficult?

"I see. First of all, let me say congratulations."

"Th…Thanks. " She shifted in the chair a little more, and then crossed her legs.

"May I ask who the lucky man is?" I asked flirtatiously, raising an eyebrow. Considering the fact that she was still so damn nervous, I thought I'd give her the ol' Cullen charm, possibly ease her apprehension by getting her to talk about herself more. This usually works, so I decided to give it a shot.

Smiling, she proudly sat up, tilting her chin up and squared her shoulders. "Jacob Black. I'm sure you've heard the name."

No way. Could it be? My stomach floated on waves of nausea as I recalled the name. It had been twelve years since I had heard the name, and dammitt, there had to be that one snowball's chance in hell, fingers crossed, that it wasn't the same Jacob Black. And if it was, this could get ugly…real ugly. But, my testosterone level had increased considerably at the chance to possibly engage that bastard in another competition of first come, first serve. After mulling over the idea, I smiled and placed my elbows on the desk as I leaned forward.

"Jacob Black? As in billionaire resort and hotel magnateJacob Black, of Blackwolfe Enterprises?"

"The very same. He's wonderful," she said, convinced of his perfection.

Well, that answers my question. Worse doesn't even describe it. Jacob wouldn't be swimming in the same pool with the rich and famous if it wasn't for me. As best friends in high school, we were competitive, inseparable. That is until Tanya, and the fact that we were supposed to go into business together, which never happened. What with all the late nights and planning, our ideas were insane, unique. Greedy bastard couldn't help himself, his competitive nature getting the best of him, he went behind my back, claiming the ideas were his own, and took the girl. Well, at least Tanya had enough sense to leave him when she had the chance, but, nevertheless, he still had the fame and fortune, courtesy of yours truly. I resisted the urge to vomit as my stomach floated on waves of nausea spurred on by the anger that swelled inside me.

That's when I had the most brilliant idea ever.

I am a sex therapist. A damn good sex therapist. Hands on sex therapist. And sitting in my office was his fiancé, virginal and delicious and beautiful, seeking advice on how to please him on their wedding night.

Ain't life a bitch?

Knowing Jake, and how he hates to lose, this would be the perfect opportunity to pay him back. And by the looks of her behavior, I had my doubts that he was even aware of her self-help adventure. Hell, he probably drove her to it. Jacob could be an ass hole when he wanted to be, at least that's how I remember him, and from the way he carried himself during television and newspaper interviews, he hadn't changed one iota. Curiosity getting the best of me, I decided to ask the question, that if correctly answered, would be the deciding factor. It was crucial to my plan that her answer consisted of two letters instead of three.

"Yes, I know the name. He's a very famous man, and a lucky one." She blushed as she sank back against the leather chair. "Miss Swan, is your fiancé aware that you are seeking out advice?"

She hesitated, and then took a deep breath. "No. I…I wanted to surprise him."

Yes!

"You do understand that these sessions, if you decide to continue, will be more than just verbal consultations."

"Uh…what do you mean?" Her jaw tightened with worry and her eyes grew wide as she asked the question.

"The name of my practice is H.O.T. The acronym stands for Hands on Therapy. I believe the best way to learn is to get your hands dirty, so to speak."

I sat back and waited as she pondered what she had just heard. Oh, her wheels were turning alright, that much was obvious.

"But, I'm a virgin…that means we would…" The panic in her eyes had me more than a little disturbed.

Shit.

"Not necessarily, Miss Swan. I'm a professional, and as such, I will do everything to respect your wishes. I understand that you want to save that sacred moment for your husband, and there are ways things I can teach you that do not include intercourse. I don't blame you if you have changed your…"

"No. If it can be avoided, I…I want to continue, "she interrupted adamantly.

Perfect.

"Very well, then." I retrieved a pen and notepad from the desk drawer, wrote down the address to my townhouse, and after tearing it off, handed it to her. "We start first thing tomorrow morning. Meet me at that address, ten A.M. sharp."

Rising from her seat, she stared at the address in silence. Several seconds passed, and then she folded it and slipped it into her back pocket as she walked toward the door. I stood, and admired the way her jeans fit snugly on her ass as I followed her.

"Oh, by the way," I muttered sarcastically. She paused suddenly, and then pivoted swiftly to face me, her cheeks flushed pink as her eyes met mine. "Welcome to hot."

The corner of her mouth turned up slightly as she considered my play on words before she opened the door and left.

Leaning against the door, I couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped me. Things were about to get a whole lot of hot. Miss Swan had no idea what she had gotten herself into.

***********************************************************************************************************************************************

UPDATE WHEN I CAN