I can’t help it. I grip his biceps and grind on his hand for more. “Please … both.”
“I’ll gladly give you one but you’re going to have to work for the other, Doc.”
His mouth takes mine and I willingly open for him. My mouth, my legs, and yes, even my life.
He doesn’t make me wait long to guess which one he’s going to make me work for. My orgasm creeps in and takes over, making me forget about my newfound debt, my patients, my new dog waiting for me at home. Hell, he makes me forget about my fucking life. I ride his hand as my jaw goes slack, wishing for this to never end. I’d do anything to stay forever in his alternate realm.
“Take as much as you can. I want to see you fall apart for me. Don’t stop, Aria.”
As if. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.
I gasp and bury my face in his chest. His black dress shirt is soft in contrast to the chain around his neck where a cross dangles and bites into my skin. I wonder if he ever takes it off.
His relentless fingers pump and his palm torments my needy clit. I cling to him as my lungs chase my speeding heart, but he doesn’t let go of my sex. He holds firm and I’m not sure I ever want him to let go.
Neither of us says a word when reality returns to my brain like an unwanted, recurring nightmare.
And my reality hits me hard as I stand here in his arms with his hand firmly cupping my sex.
I just allowed Brand Vitale to have his way with me. And I did nothing but encourage it.
This is what I get for crossing something off my list.
“Next time, I’m coming too. Inside you. Your mouth, your pussy … we’ll see where it takes us.”
I tense, and I know he can feel it because his grip on my sex tightens. “What have I done?”
Letting me go, his hand slides out from between my legs. He forces me to look at him when that same hand comes to my chin and he traces my lips with my own juices before licking his fingers clean.
Then he kisses me, his tongue lapping my bottom lip before dipping into my mouth. My every sense is consumed with him and me and …
Us.
And there cannot be an us.
“You’ll earn the rest.” He teases me with the information I want, details about him that the doctor in me is curious about. The woman in me, on the other hand, is hungry for other parts of him.
He pushes me back against the door and bends to fetch my phone. He holds it to my face and the damn thing unlocks immediately. Of course it recognizes the post-orgasmic me standing here a mess, but never unlocks if I’m yawning or brushing my teeth.
“I have some business to take care of tonight and a shift at the station first thing tomorrow morning.” He flips through my phone, touching the screen at least twenty times before handing it back to me. “Don’t block me again, Aria. If I have to search for you, I won’t be happy.”
He tosses my phone on top of my bag before turning back to me. I’m too overcome by what I just allowed to happen and him maneuvering his way through my private information, I haven’t even bothered to zip my pants. His fingers come to my chin, tipping my face to his and he presses his lips to mine.
Ending his kiss with another swipe of my bottom lip, he demands, “Answer me when I call and text you.”
I shake my head. “You can’t leave until you tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Why me?”
“I told you. That’s something you have to earn. And you will.”
“No. That’s not good enough. I’m not like your late wife,” I stress, shaking my head. “I refuse to be toyed with, be one of many, have some sort of sick, unspoken understanding. I know what that looks like. I grew up with that and want no part of it.”
A small smile hits his lips. It falls somewhere on the scale between smug and sexy. It definitely does a job at chipping away at the weak resolve I cling to as if it’s my last breath. If for no other reason, I need to appear as if I have some self-respect after what just happened.
He leans on the door next to my head and I gasp when he claims my sex again, this time over my wrinkled pants. “I like that.”
I squeeze my thighs, causing his smile to lean on the side of smug. “What do you like?”
“That you’re as possessive of me as I am of you.”
“I’m not possessive of you,” I lie. “This is about me protecting my dignity.” And other things I don’t want to admit to right now.
“I believe you even though you’re also lying. Admit it—the thought of someone else touching me makes you jealous.” He presses his hand into my still sensitive clit. “Because the thought of someone other than me touching you makes me crazy.”
My eyes widen.
“And Aria.” He leans to kiss me, gripping my sex in a way that would convince even the most skeptical of women. “I’m a scary man when something makes me crazy. Just because I didn’t murder my wife doesn’t mean I wouldn’t go there for something I felt strongly about. And my feelings for you are pretty damn strong.”
I bite into my flesh.
“Don’t do that,” he murmurs. “Tasted your blood when I kissed you. Stop hurting yourself.”
I let go and lick my lips.
“Do we have an understanding? I don’t touch anyone but you. You don’t touch anyone but me. Stop hurting yourself and don’t fucking block me again.”
I nod. I can do that.
I mean, for now, I guess.
He squeezes my sex one more time. “We’ll talk soon.”
Like an idiot, I nod again.
Then he smiles and this time it’s downright sexy. “I’m feeling a hell of a lot better than I did when I got here. For my first therapy session, I think that went pretty well.”
My eyes fall shut and I exhale.
Then I slide to the side so he can open the door.
When I hear my lobby door close, my legs can’t hold me any longer. I slide to my ass on the floor—exhausted, emotionally drained, and even sated.
I take a deep breath and admit to myself I’m a fraud.
I’m so far from getting my shit together, I have no business trying to help others.
11
Doctor-Patient Confidentiality
Brand
I cross my arms and look out the window onto downtown Redmond. It’s no Seattle, thank fuck. Seattle is too big, too congested with too many people living on top of one another. I should know, I was raised there and hated it. I can’t imagine what my cousins put up with across the country in New York City.
Redmond was my compromise with the west-coast family. I’m involved, but not. I work on the outskirts when absolutely needed, and manage contracts in my own way. I always wanted to be a firefighter. Doesn’t hurt that it’s a good cover and soothes my conscience for the other shit I agree to.
Knowing how to get rid of a body or cover up arson has come in handy a few times.
Or more than a few times.
But when I save someone from a burning house or a mangled car, I figure I’m atoning for it. A right for a wrong, all that shit. My own personal penance.
I’ve been working the job for over fifteen years. I’ve done my duty to the family in more ways than one during that time. I basically signed my life away ten years ago and was paid well for it. My gig at the station is a dream and hobby with a decent medical and dental plan. Life was trudging along, mundane and slightly miserable with no end in sight, until…