Marley

My heart aches at the pain in his eyes as he reveals the dark corners of his past, and sitting here right now, I know I made the right decision to continue seeing him as my patient. I’d debated all day yesterday whether I should or not, considering the moment we shared Saturday night, but I ultimately decided that I could handle this. That I was strong enough to revisit whatever he threw my way in an effort to help him regain some semblance of control when it comes to his urges.

There’s not a doubt in my mind that this is what triggered his behavior.

Aside from the clench of his fists on his thighs, he remains perfectly composed as he recounts this painful part of his past.

Once he’s finished, I give him a moment to let the memory settle between us. His first instinct would be to tuck it back away into the recesses of his mind but he surprises me when he allows me to see the real damage it’s caused.

Anger.

I choose my next words carefully. “Your first sexual experience had been forced upon you, Asher, and it involved another dominant male. You were helpless to escape that. You can’t burden yourself with blame. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I hated not having control. Fucking hated it.” His nostrils flare as he shifts his gaze to the floor. “From that day on, something inside of me changed. A switch flipped and I was never the same.”

“Did you tell anyone what happened?” I ask, my heart breaking at the thought of him dealing with this alone.

“Fuck no. I reinvented myself. Changed my appearance, signed up for karate. I became the person no one wanted to fuck with. I refused to ever be that weak again.”

“You weren’t weak, Asher. You were manipulated and forced. There is a difference. The loss of virginity is an important milestone in human development, signifying a transition to adulthood. This traumatic experience altered your emotional development and may very well be the reason you’re not able to associate sex with feelings.”

“There is no lack of feeling when I have sex.”

“You know what I mean.”

He grins mischievously and heat flushes my cheeks. That familiar tingle simmering beneath my skin.

What the hell was I saying?

Oh right, his virginity.

“So now that you know my deepest, darkest secret, Doc, when do I get to know yours?”

My nerves kick up at the thought of him knowing mine. “We’re here to talk about you not me.”

His watchful eyes make me uncomfortable so I clear my throat and quickly move on. “I think what you experienced as an adolescent has hindered you sexually as an adult.”

He grunts. “Trust me, I’m not hindered at all. I will gladly prove it to you.” I shoot him an annoyed look. “I had every intention of proving it to you Saturday night until you ran away from me.”

And there it is. The conversation I’d hoped to avoid. I don’t want to talk about what happened Saturday night and that’s not like me at all. Typically, I would be the first to address things and would not hesitate to discuss my feelings. But I can’t with him. It’s too risky. Too dangerous and scary as hell.

Even when I’m not analyzing his mind, I’m overthinking every look and move he makes. I’m hyperaware of his commanding presence. When he speaks every hair on my body stands at attention. My nipples tighten beneath my shirt and I have to squeeze my thighs together. When his eyes hold mine, I feel like I’m the one being exposed, not him, and it’s frustrating as hell.

I redirect the conversation, keeping it focused on him.

“How do you feel after you have sex?”

“And why do you think that is?”

“Fuck if I know, Doc, that’s why I’m here, to figure it out.”

“You’re detached, and until you find someone you can trust to open up to emotionally, someone you trust to have positive sexual experiences with, you will continue to struggle with these urges.”

“I’m opening up to you. That counts, right?” he asks, a sinful smirk tugging his lips.

“It’s a start.”

The buzzer on my desk signals our hour is up.

“Sorry, but we’re out of time for today.”

Disappointment flashes in his eyes.

“Same time tomorrow?” I ask.

He nods then stands to leave, and I follow, laying my notepad on the chair. But before he opens the door, he spins to face me again, his expression masked with something I can’t quite put my finger on. “Thank you for listening, Doc.”

“You’re welcome,” I whisper, trying desperately not to get drawn into his warm gaze but it’s impossible. I practically melt right there on the spot.

“See you tomorrow.”

Once he finally leaves, I lean against the door as I try to calm my racing heart.

I’ve never met a man as good-looking and intimidating as him. Maybe it’s the uniform, the way his lean frame fills it out so perfectly, or perhaps it’s the gun attached to his hip that makes him look dangerous, but I know that’s not it either.

It’s something else.

Something deeper.

Something dark and mysterious that heats my blood and rattles my bones. And the fact that he’s totally forbidden makes me want him even more. I reach behind me and lock the door then my hand drifts to the back of my dress pants to unzip them before dipping them beneath my panties. I curse myself for not wearing a skirt. Something more accessible. Then I slide my fingers through my wet folds, stroking back and forth.

I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I never do things like this.

You did Saturday night.

And last night.

Being anywhere near that man does crazy things to my body and my control is nil when I’m alone.

So alone.

The pent-up orgasm hits me hard and fast, my tense body sagging against the door as I ride out the glorious waves. Shame colors my face as the pleasure flees just as fast as it came, leaving me feeling embarrassed but sated. Readjusting my underwear and zipping up my pants, I remind myself that Lieutenant Cunningham is my patient and that is a line I will not cross, but I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. If the mere thought of him can satisfy me this much, there’s no telling the damage he could do in real life.

Good thing I’ll never find out.