Chapter Seven
Holden
I always thought earning my PhD in psychology would be one of the hardest things I ever did in life. Sure, there were personal issues to contend with, but none of those held a candle to behavioral neuroscience, psychopathology, and neuropsychology. Those classes stretched my mind beyond the bore of everyday life. They had me up in the middle of the night researching philosophies, behavioral studies, and the relationship between brain function and behavior. They had me spending days lost in finding theoretical frameworks for complex case studies. They had me salivating for more knowledge than my brain could take in at once.
Still, I didn’t see this coming.
Years of studying the human brain, trying to understand and abide by the rules of professional boundaries. Yet here I am, lusting after a client like a teenage boy, dreaming of her, aching for her, desperate to fix every fucking problem she has.
I drag in a heavy breath and cross one leg over the other as she sits across from me in a sweet black dress and pink cardigan sweater. She’s so fucking adorable, and I hate that anyone has ever hurt her.
My cock reacts as her thick thighs squeeze together while she shifts in her seat.
The right thing to do is to end our professional relationship immediately and terminate all contact. It’s what’s right in terms of the board of psychiatry and it’s what’s right in terms of human behavior. Freud himself would say that this love I’ve come to feel for Molly isn’t real. That the imbalance of power is obvious. She barely knows me, and I know her deepest fears. I should recommend her to a new therapist. She needs the support. It’s the right thing to do, but the selfish asshole in me wants to be the one taking care of her in every way possible.
I know her. I know what she wants, how she thinks, what her heart needs.
“How was the transition last night?” I hold my ankle in place as my body stiffens to her response. For what’s felt like forever, I’ve wanted to call every Tyler I could find, tear down to his house myself, shoot the fucker, then throw Molly over my shoulder and keep her safe with me forever. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option, nor would it have done her any good in the long term. It’s a bonus that I know Rhett from the MC, and that we already had a connection. At least I can keep tabs on her now when she’s not in my office.
She twists her hair to the side of her shoulder. She’s nervous about something. She plays with her hair when she’s anxious. “It was good. A little weird and I’m a whole lot of confused, but it was better than the other kind of confused.”
“What happened?”
“Well, it’s stupid.” Her eyes close and she shakes her head slowly as though there’s something she’s embarrassed about.
If I’m being honest, I already know. How could Rhett not be attracted to her? Something likely happened last night.
“It’s okay. Take your time. Nothing you feel is stupid.”
She glances up toward me, then away again, pursing those perfect pink lips. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but… I got talking about this book I’m reading.”
“The harem?”
Her brows turn down. “You remembered.”
I want to tell her that I remember everything she says. That I spend all night having fantasies where she’s mine. That in those fantasies, she’s my little girl and I’m taking care of her, brushing her hair, talking her down from panic, snuggling her into a warm blanket with her favorite movie and a snack, and relaxing her body in the carnal way it was meant to be relaxed.
“Of course I remember. What happened when you told Rhett?” My stomach turns as she wets her lips.
His hands were all over her. I know it now.
“I, ugh, well… there was drinking involved, and I ended up sleeping with my brother’s best friend, and I’m pretty sure I had a connection with his friend this morning on the way in.” She laughs nervously and says, “And if I’m being really honest, I don’t know what’s wrong with me because last night I slept with one man, climbed on another one’s lap, and I’ve been wondering what you would feel like since I sat down.” She rolls her eyes. “Truthfully, I thought about it before last night, too.” She breathes heavily and reaches for the water bottle beside her.
“I’m sorry?” I stare at her, perfectly able to hear her words, but desperate to hear them again.
“I know, I know. I’m one of those girls, apparently, but you say everything exactly how I need to hear it. And when you lean in and look at me so intently, you smell,” her eyes roll back in her head, “so damn good.”
“So, you created your harem.”
She nods. “It was unintentional, but I don’t know how to unsee it now. I mean, Rhett is an achiever who can do anything, Maverick is mysterious and sweet, and you… I’m in this headspace I’ve never been in… ever.”
“What kind of headspace is that?”
She shrugs. “It’s safe and warm, like there are no guards, no walls, no nothing. I don’t know. It’s probably some effect of counseling, right? You probably have a bunch of clients falling in love with you.”
I laugh under my breath, set the notebook on the table beside me, and make my way toward her, though I’m not sure what happens when I get there.
She squeezes her thighs together again and swallows hard. Fuck. I’m a fucking mess. All I can think about is putting her in pigtails, then fisting them tight as she gets down onto her knees in front of me.
“I’ve had clients tell me they’re in love with me before,” I roll up my sleeve, trying to diffuse some of the heat emanating off me, “but… this is the first time it’s ever been reciprocated.”
Her eyes widen slowly, and her stare never leaves mine. Her brain is confused, I’m sure. She wasn’t expecting that response.
“Wait, what?” Her chest rises and falls quickly, and as I sit next to her, it takes every bit of endurance I have not to take her right here and now.
“I’ve felt it for a while, but I have rules.” I clear my throat. “There are rules.”
“Right… rules.”
My cock is filled, hard, and throbbing. My heart is aching, and I’ve never had urges like this… ever. I slide my hand behind her head and ever so lightly stroke the back of her shoulder where the collar of her sweater pulls away from her neck. This doesn’t do my cock any favors. She’s even softer than I’d imagined. “I’m not sure I can see you anymore as a client.”
Her gaze meets mine and her thighs squeeze together as her breasts rise and fall quickly with each breath. “Yeah, I mean… that makes sense.”
Fuck me. I’m going to lose it.
I stroke her neck with a heavier touch, and she leans in slightly.
“So, should I go?”
“Do you want to go?”
She shakes her head, and her mouth drops open as a single strand of hair clouds her vision.
I want to push it away.
I shouldn’t push it away.
My cock throbs and my hand lifts to her face, brushing the soft strand of her hair to the side. “What fascinates you about the harem?” I say as I clear my throat again.
She bites back a grin. “I don’t know. It’s stupid. I mean, I guess I just see the benefits of having three men you adore love on you. The family and the community that you can make sounds so beautiful.” Her eyes roll. “I know that actually making any of this happen is a fantasy.”
“Does it have to be?” I’ve never considered sharing a woman in my life, but I understand that women are much more complex than men on a hormonal and biological level. They require more than a man in relationships on most accounts. Having three men to satisfy those needs makes sense.
What the hell am I thinking? It doesn’t matter if a harem makes sense. I can’t have Molly regardless. Not ever. It wouldn’t be good for either of us, most importantly her. The documented cases of therapist-client relationships working out are not highly reported on, and the ones that are, don’t have a high success rate.
“Well, I mean—”
“Technically speaking, I can see how a harem makes sense. Each person provides you a different feeling, a different skill, and you have all the love in the world to share.”
She narrows her brows. “I wasn’t expecting that response. Rhett was completely opposed, and Maverick is trying to stay out of Rhett’s way. Besides, all this is crazy talk. I just left a long-term relationship. I’m sure I need to focus on me for a while.”
“You should,” I sigh. “That’s correct. You need to figure out who you are and what you want before you give anyone else access to your heart,” I brush my fingers across her neck slowly, breathing in the scent of flowers on her skin, “but is that what you’re going to do? Are you going to take the time?”
She turns her head slightly, staring toward me with hooded lids. “Not really. I don’t think I can. What’s wrong with me? Why am I acting like this? I know rationally, this is just stupid. It’s book fantasy, not real life.”
“It makes sense psychologically that you’d be in this headspace after the relationship you just left. You’ve been hurt, you’re struggling, and you want to feel protected in every way possible. Rhett makes you feel safe physically, I make you feel safe emotionally, and I’m guessing Maverick is a little of both, while reminding you of yourself a little.”
She twists toward me and sighs. “How is it that you just get me?”
My fingertips massage into the back of her neck and her eyes close as her head rolls forward. “Good girl. Relax and let me take care of you.”
She hums under her breath as though the tension in her body is leaving.
Fucking hell. We still have forty minutes left in this session. I have to end this or I’m going to do something I regret.
“I love it when you tell me what a good girl I am.” Her eyes lift to meet mine and the words come out in the softest of whispers. “I thought about it so many times last night. It made me feel so warm and content. Like for the first time in my life, I really believed I was good.”
My cock, that’s already rock-hard, presses further at my zipper, desperate to escape, aching to spread her wide and fill her up, eager to watch all her fantasies come true, even if that means watching her find freedom and protection with others.
“I love telling you what a good girl you’ve been,” I lean into her ear and smell the soft lavender on her skin, my lips so impossibly close to the lobe of her ear that I’m nearly brushing against her, “which is why we should stop this session right here.” I readjust my pants and pull away from her skin, though doing so is absolute torture.
She pants hard, looking at me as though she’s as needy as I am, as though she wants to keep going, and for the first time in my life, I’m not sure how to say no. There’s an animalistic response breaking out. An unrespectable urge to tear off her clothes and fuck her raw. An unprofessional desire to throw away eleven years of medical school, and five years of professional training, to lose my license to practice, just to know what it feels like to have her.
Who would find out? We could do things quietly. I could touch her right now. I could slip my hand between her legs and keep going until the scent of her pleasure is all over me. I could lock the door and make her thighs shake over and over again. No one has to know.
I blow out a breath and attempt to gather myself as I stand.
Her eyes float from the hard cock currently tenting my slacks upward toward my eyes. “I guess we should end this, then. I’d hate for you to lose your license.”
I clear my throat, aching to grip her hips and bend her forward against my desk, desperate to hold her tight and keep her safe, willing to chance losing everything at one moment alone with her. “I’ll text you the name of a good therapist close by.” The words come out, but it’s not me saying them. The speaker is a curated version of myself that’s been created to manage my professional life.
If I were speaking, the words would sound more feral and would lead to her bent over the back of my couch.
She swallows hard and stands, grabbing her jacket off the hook by the door. “I appreciate you. Thank you for everything.” Her breath is labored, and tears fall from her cheek as she steps back out into the world.
I want to stop her. Fuck, I want to stop her. My hands ball into fists and the second the door closes, I release the tension building with a growl. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I should’ve held my feelings at bay. She needs me now more than ever. It was selfish to tell her I love her.
Fuck!
I pace my office back and forth, replaying the moment in my head. Why the fuck did I do that and how do I make it better?
Professionally speaking, I could call another therapist and give them the rundown, but deep down, I know that’s not going to happen. I know I can’t convince myself that anyone else can help her better than me. I know I can’t leave her in her hour of need. And though it’s wrong, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m going after Molly, I’ll just have to be creative about how I do it.