Sixteen
S he didn’t argue, and I wouldn’t have listened anyway. Something had happened to her. Something had shaken her, upset her, and there was no fucking way I was letting her out of my sight. Whatever it was, she’d called me. ME. Of all of the people she could call for help, it made me feel like a fucking king that she called me. And so I was gonna step up, and give her everything she fucking needed. Everything .
The bar had a couple of brothers nursing drinks, but nobody paid any attention to us, so I led Lissa up to my room, and closed the door behind us, locking it, so no fucker could interrupt us.
I led her to the sofa and sat her down, finding her way too pliant, and subdued. Normally strong, and feisty, she was like a watered down version of herself. I reached the kitchen before I realised my mistake.
“Fuck.”
I turned to look at Lissa, and she just blandly stared back at me. What the fuck had happened to her?
“I was gonna get you a drink, but I don’t keep alcohol in my room. Let me go down to the bar and get you something. Anything you want.”
She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have any more tonight, because… well, clearly I’ve had too much already.”
“You’re gonna fucking tell me in a minute, Lissa. First, coffee.”
I made us both a drink and sat down with her. Not opposite her, but on the sofa beside her, as close as I could fucking get.
“Talk.”
She let out a soft sigh.
“I messed up, Ice. I really fucking messed up. I’m done. I’m going to lose my job over this.”
Hell . “Is it something I did? I shouldn’t have hit on you, I know that, it’s just I fucking want you. I want you so fucking much.”
She finally looked at me, her cheeks pink.
“You do? I mean… we’re nothing alike, and I shouldn’t be… I shouldn’t be involved with you when I’m your therapist.”
“Then quit. I mean, put someone else on my case. It’s simple, really.”
She swallowed hard, her hands twisting together in her lap, until I grabbed one and held it in mine.
“What happened?”
“I was a mess after I saw you today. I was… well, I was caught up in thinking about you, and wanting to talk to you, and you didn’t message, and I didn’t know why you were-”
“What the fuck? I did. I sent you a message, and I asked you to book me for tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t, but it’s okay. It’s not like you owe me anything, but I got stressed about it, and I drank. I uh, I drank too much. And then I somehow decided to drive here to see you.”
“You did what?” She tried to drive to me when she’d been drinking? What the actual fuck? She was smarter than that, right?
“I think I was speeding or something. The one time I’ve ever driven when I was probably over the limit, and I got caught, and even if I hadn’t, what the fuck was I thinking? Why did I do something so stupid?”
This was the last thing I’d expected and, oddly, I was relieved. Pissed as hell that she could have had an accident, but relieved that no fucker’s hands had been on her. I’d have cut them off at the wrists. No, at the elbows.
“Ice?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you mad at me?”
“For driving under the influence? Yeah, kinda. I mean, I know we’re bikers, and we might occasionally take risks, but that’s not something even I would do. I’m out on my bike, and I’m already on that line, because bikers always come off worse in an accident. We can’t risk drinking when we’re gonna ride… I’m actually shocked.”
She pulled away from me, and seemed to curl in on herself, hugging her stomach.
“I’ll get fired. I can’t be a rehab therapist who got arrested for drunk driving. What the hell was I thinking?”
“Were you charged?”
“They took my licence, Ice. They may suspend me for a year or something. I have to go to court.”
“Jesus. Okay, we’ll figure it out. Right now, I can’t sit here and look at you like that. You’re scrunched up and freaking out, and I can’t bear seeing you that way. You’re the strong one out of the two of us. I want… fuck that… I need to hold you. You gonna argue?”
She shook her head, and I raised my eyebrows.
“You want me to fuck my shoulder up reaching for you? Or are you gonna climb up here and let me hold you?”
“Into your lap? Like a child?”
“Like a woman who needs fucking comforting. It’s not like I’m asking you to climb on my dick, Lissa. I just want to wrap my arms around you, and make you feel safe. Is that too much to ask?”
She shoved up from the sofa, and stared down at me, her fists clenching and unclenching.
“This is wrong.”
“It’s less wrong than getting caught drinking and driving.”
“ Bastard . I didn’t come here so you could judge me, or throw it back in my face, dammit.”
I stood up. “That’s not what I’m doing. Jesus, stop resisting me. Just fucking come here.” I reached out with my good arm, and pulled her against my chest again. It felt right when she was pressed against my chest, with my arms around her. It felt like it was where she was meant to be. Mine. Safe in my arms. And fucking mine. Definitely mine.
Lissa
W hy did it feel so right to be in his arms? Why did it feel right to have called him for help? He wasn’t someone I should be interacting with outside of our appointments. I was responsible for his journey back to health, and away from his addiction, but maybe I’d found a new addiction of my own; Ice. Something about him called out to me, something kept dragging me back to him.
“Lissa?”
I realised I was rubbing my face against his chest, breathing in his manly, musky scent, like it was my own personal calming balm.
“Sorry.”
He chuckled. “No, I like it, I do. It’s just that I feel like I need to do more to look after you. You need to be looked after, don’t you?”
I swallowed hard, offering him one of his own single nods in response. Even that small movement rubbed my face against that firm chest again, filling my nose with another calming whiff of his scent.
“It calms me,” my whispered words were out, before I could stop them.
He stroked my hair. “Being hugged?”
I nodded, and then found myself once again wanting to be as honest as possible with him.
“Your scent.”
He chuckled again, a rumble that filtered through his chest, and into me.
“Is that your way of telling me I smell?”
I found myself smiling in response. Even after having fucked up my life tonight, I could smile. Because of him.
I lifted my head to look at him, our slight height difference putting me closer to his face than I’d expected.
“Good. You smell good. I like the way you smell. It’s… it makes me feel safe.”
“You are safe, doc, always safe with me. I mean, you’re safe from me. Does that make sense, or am I in schoolboy mode again?”
His words were probably supposed to increase the feeling of safety, but instead they hurt. Safe from him? As in, he wasn’t interested in me at all?
I pulled away, and he released his hold on me, his forehead creasing.
“Clearly I did just fuck up. What did I say that was so wrong? Doc? Lissa, for fuck’s sake, talk to me.”
I choked back a bitter sob. “That’s supposed to be my line. Always my line. I’m the one everyone talks to. The one everyone lays all of their problems on. The one they yell at, and threaten, and hate. Do you know how that feels, Ice? Going home, and crying into a glass of wine, while my mind replays all of the hateful things they say to me? Calling me things like ‘posh’, ‘pretentious’, ‘know-it-all’, like underneath my appearance, I’m not just a fucking person too. With problems, and fears, and… and nobody to go home to. Nobody to talk to. Nobody to hold me, while I cry.”
I don’t know how those words even all made it out, because I was crying so hard by that point, that they must have sounded like complete gibberish. But Ice? He just cursed, and grabbed me, pulling me over to his bed, and then into his lap, so he could hold me against his warm chest again, and soothe me while I cried, just like I said nobody ever does. Just like nobody ever has.
When I felt him press his lips against my temple, I felt the last of my resistance melting away. Why was I fighting my feelings for him? Why was I putting my duty before our connection? How often did people even feel this?
“Ice?”
He hummed a response as I lifted my head, but there was a wary look in his eyes.
“I think I need that kiss therapy again.” His lips stretched into a wide grin. Was that relief?
“I can do that.”
He stroked my cheek, staring into my eyes for a moment, and then he leaned closer, his lips brushing lightly against mine, and again. It was the teasing touch from before, the light press of lips, the gentle caress, when I wanted more from him. Needed it.
I reached up and grabbed the back of his head, trying to encourage him to deepen the kiss, to kiss me hard, and in that possessive way that I just knew he could.
I felt his lips smiling against mine, and let him retreat an inch, no more.
“You got a problem with the way I’m kissing you, doc? Am I not satisfying you?”
“Dammit, Ice, kiss me. Kiss me properly, or don’t fucking bother.”
He chuckled, and then his lips touched mine again. This time they were firm, demanding, and finally, finally , he gave me what I wanted; him, his tongue easing against mine, his lips owning mine, his mouth taking what I wanted to give.
Suddenly his name seemed impossible, and ironic as hell, because there was nothing icy about him. He was all heat. All intensity. All consuming. And I really wanted to be consumed by him.
When he pulled back, his breathing faster, just like mine, he grinned.
“Was that more like it? You just gotta tell me what you want, doc, and I swear, if I’m capable, I’ll give it to you.”
I felt my cheeks burning.
“Was I being too needy?”
Ice slid his thumb over my bottom lip, staring at it for a moment.
“God no. You know, the toughest thing about satisfying women is how you all always expect us to know what the fuck it is you want. I just want you to fucking tell me. You want me on my knees, sucking on your clit, you tell me. You want to ride my face? Just say it. You want me to press you down on my bed, and ram my cock deep inside you, just say the words. If you can manage to tell me what you want, I can just focus on giving it to you.”
I opened my mouth to tell him all of those things, to ask for them, beg, even. He’d made it sound so easy. Just say it, and he’ll do it. Before I could utter a word, my confidence fled. It buggered off somewhere, and left me blushing and staring at him. Struck dumb by a sudden fear that I’d make a fool of myself, or that I’d ask for something he didn’t want to give.
“Wow. Is it literally against a woman’s wiring to just say what they want? Just say the words, doc. Just say, ‘fuck me, Ice’, and I swear to god, you’re gonna get my dick. I want to. I really fucking want you, but I need to hear you say it.”