I pull out of her and lie back on the bed, running a hand through my sweat-soaked hair. The moment the orgasm haze fades, my mind is filled with dread and…regret.
What have I done? And why do I want to keep doing it?
Ten
Flynn
The temperature in the room changes the minutes Liam comes. The space turns frosty. Regret rolls off of him in waves, and to be quite honest, I’m already fed up with this game. He acts less mature than the guys my age. He either needs to own up to what he wants or keep it in his expensive ass pants.
“I’ll see myself out.”
I get it, I do. He’s my fucking therapist. This isn’t what I would call an ideal situation. I know he has a lot to lose here. Still, that doesn’t give him an excuse to act like a pathetic little fuckboy. Climbing off the bed, I hastily pull my discarded clothes over my body. Before I reach the door, he stops me.
“Flynn, wait.”
“What’s the point? You’re spiraling and it’s cool. But don’t come to me next time you’re pissed at your ex and want a fuck. If I’m too old to play these games, you sure as shit are.”
“Flynn.” The commanding timbre of his voice has me pausing. “Will you just wait one fucking minute? Yes, I’m freaking out a little, but I have every goddamn right to. I didn’t say I regret it or want you to leave. I didn’t say I want to stop.”
For the first time in twenty-one years, I feel a fluttering of sorts in my belly. I smile but wipe it away as quick as it comes.
“So, what do we do?” I raise an eyebrow as I assess him in all his naked goodness.
“No one can know. Not even your friends. You need to tell them I was pissed at you for showing up and I sent you away. I’m serious, Flynn. My job, my license is on the line here.”
With a solemn nod, I agree, but then a thought takes hold. A secret relationship with my therapist? Sign me the fuck up. If anyone can pull off sneaking around, it’s me. Plus, it keeps things hot as hell.
“I’m in, but what are the terms here? I know we’re just fucking, but exclusively or can I fuck other people?” He growls and a red-hot look of anger transforms his face. Through clenched teeth, he makes his stance known loud and clear.
“If anyone else touches you, I’ll rip off their fucking hand.”
“But we’re just having sex, right? No commitment?” My swallow is loud and my heart thumps against my chest. For the first time ever, though it confuses the fuck out of me, I want the commitment. I can’t imagine him with anyone else either and I don’t want to.
His hazel eyes implore my brown ones, staring deep into the depths of my soul. I shut down, not allowing him to see into my thoughts despite the fact that he is my therapist.
“I shouldn’t condone this.” He steps off the bed toward me as his gaze rakes over me. He’s in my space now, eyes still devouring me. Leaning down, he sucks on my neck, and for a man so eager to hide our relationship, he sure is sucking my neck hard enough to leave a mark.
I assume he means because he’s my doctor, but I ask anyway. “And why’s that?” My words are a breathy moan slipping between my lips.
“Because it’s destructive behavior. It’s a backslide for you, slipping into your bad habits.” He pushes the silk fabric of my tank top up over my head once more before sitting back down on the bed. At this height, his face sits right in front of my chest.
I don’t know how I can backslide on something I never quit, but I don’t care enough right now to push the issue. Fuck now, questions later…or preferably, never.
My eyes flutter closed as his tongue pokes out, teasing my nipples with light flicks. He plays with the bars through my pink peaks and I moan at the overwhelming pleasure. He takes his focus away, enough to push my skirt back down my hips. I never had a chance to zip it back up, anyway.
I allow him to lead my back onto the center of the bed where he proceeds to fuck me long and hard.
By the time he’s done with me, the stench of sex radiates off of me and I look as thoroughly fucked as I was. Thank God I drove here separate or my friends would sure as shit know what went down.
With a final chaste kiss that feels all too coupley, I’m out the door. I walk down the street to where I left my car. I smooth my hair as I go, knowing it’s a sex-made rat’s nest.
As I reach my driver’s side, a hard laugh draws my gaze up. Liam’s ex—Martha, Melissa, whatever the fuck her name is—glares at me with devilish eyes full of amusement.
She may look like a bohemian angel, but the gleam in her eye tells me she’s anything but angelic.
“Can I help you?” Her shit-eating grin is pissing me off and her unwavering stare is plain rude. If she’s as old as Liam, then she should know better. She leans against the side of my Saab and I round the front of my car, forcing her to step away from both the vehicle and me.
“I used to get that same look; the ‘just-fucked-by-Liam-Whitmore’ glow. You wear it well, but I wonder what the American Medical Association would think?” She doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. I don’t let skinny bitches like her scare me.
“Yes, because everyone will
