Chapter 12 #2
"Let's talk about that." I tread carefully. "Did you sneak into both Brax’s and Valentina's places at different times?"
She shifts, uncrosses her legs, then slowly recrosses them, dragging her fingers over her calf and up her thigh before admitting, "Yes."
"Did you take pictures of them without their knowledge?"
"Sure."
"Did you follow them, hiding so they couldn't see you?"
She locks her gaze into mine, full of confidence, with no shame. "I sure did."
Now, we're getting somewhere. I push, "Why?"
"You know why."
"No. I don't. Tell me," I order.
A wicked smile plays on her lips. She moves her pointer finger over her knee in a back-and-forth motion and lowers her voice. "Brax was meant to be mine. He didn't make his move because of my father."
A spike of jealousy sparks, surprising me again.
Maybe I do need help.
I push the irritation away, stating, "You just told me you realized he was a mistake."
Her mouth twists. "Don't worry, Dr. Mercer. I'm fully committed to you, now. And you don't have to worry."
"Worry?" I lift a brow.
Her expression turns innocent. She rasps, "My virginity is yours. All of it."
My cock twitches so hard, it catches my breath.
The vulnerability grows in her expression, hitting me with another ache. She whispers, "I wanted to cut myself because I thought you might never kiss me."
Blood rushes through my veins. I should tell her again that she's creating a delusion about us, but instead, I stare at her, hating the sensations running through my body that shouldn't be in me right now.
She adds, "I'm twenty-five. Do you know what it's like to wait this long?"
My voice comes out rough. "I'm sure that's tough for a beautiful woman like yourself."
Her face lights up like it's Christmas morning. "So you think I'm beautiful? Not just cute?"
Oh shit. Why did I say that?
I need to get her another therapist.
Her eyes narrow. "Did you just lie to me?"
"No."
Relief hits her expression. She takes a shaky breath. "Okay, good."
"You need rest, Blue."
"I need your tongue against mine," she says with so much conviction, I freeze.
Time twists with tension, making the ache in my groin intensify.
She finally sighs. Exhaustion spills over her face.
I insist, "You need sleep. I think you should go to your parents."
"No. And you can't make me." She glares at me.
"Blue—"
"Are you going to try to put me in the hospital?" Her eyes fill with tears.
I study her, wondering if I missed something in her chart. I cautiously ask, "Have you been in the hospital before?"
She shakes her head. "No. But my parents threatened to put me there if I didn't come see you."
"Ah. I see."
She frets, "Can they do that?"
My heart races at the thought of her being admitted against her will, wearing a straitjacket, and heavily sedated. I answer, "If you're a danger to yourself or others, then yes, you can be admitted for evaluation."
Hurt sparks into her eyes. Tears spill over them. She scrunches her face, begging, "Please don't ever let them do that to me."
I remind myself I'm a doctor and of my duties. I prod, "Are you a danger to yourself or others right now?"
"Do you think I am?" she sniffles, as if betrayed.
"Want my honest answer?"
Fear grows, but she nods as more tears fall.
I take a minute to assess her, then answer, "Honestly, I'm worried about you. It's been too long since you've slept or eaten anything. I offered you a sleeping aid, and you refused to even consider it. I don't think you should be alone right now."
"I could stay with you. I bet I could sleep if I were next to you," she blurts out.
My dick betrays me again. I shake my head. "That isn't an option."
"Why? Your place seems big."
I gape at her.
"What did I say?" she asks, with true confusion on her face.
She knows where I live.
Tingles burst in my nerves.
What the fuck is happening to me?
This is wrong.
"How do you know the size of my home?" I question.
Her expression morphs like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "Um..."
In a stern tone, I warn, "Blue. I want the truth. And don't lie to me."
She straightens, lifts her chin, and pins a challenging gaze into mine. "I followed you on Sunday."
"Why?"
"In case you decided to chuck me to the curb."
"What if I had?"
She smiles. "You didn't."
"But what if I had? Then what?" I question.
She opens her mouth, then snaps it shut. She peers closer, and excitement grows.
A cold swell gathers beneath my sternum, tightening just enough to steal a fraction of my breath before I force my expression neutral again. "Answer me."
She beams. "I know why we're meant to be now."
I don't correct her and fall into her trap. "Why is that?"
She leans closer, the excitement pouring out of her. "You have things inside you, dying to come out."
My voice cracks. "What?"
She nods. "You do. Morally gray, erotic, twisted things lie deep inside you."
My pulse pounds between my ears. I don't move.
She's wrong.
No, she's not.
"I'm your muse, Dr. Mercer," she says in her breathless tone, accentuating my name in the way that always makes my blood turn hot.
"You're not," I manage to get out.
She nods faster. "I am. I'm the one woman on this earth who you can do it all with.
You can go deep into my head, then my body.
You can sort me out, fix me how you want, then watch me break again so you can do it all over again.
And every taboo thing you've ever wanted to do, you'll do to me, and I'll beg for it, Red.
I'll plead for you to go a step further every time your conscience tells you to stop, then remind you that you're the only man to have me.
The only man who owns me. My breath. My body.
My soul. It's yours to burn with me lighting the match. "
A crazed, violent, heated wave rushes over me. My cock pulses, reminding me to breathe, but my exhale comes out ragged.
She's wrong.
"I'm the woman who gets to enact all your fantasies, Dr. Mercer. Me," she adds with total confidence.
God help me.
My voice comes out too low. "You're in a delusional state right now."
She continues to smile, not taking her eyes off mine. "No, I'm not."
Tension builds.
Her eyes dart to the side of me. She jumps up, flips the hourglass, then crouches so she's at eye level with my desk. She doesn't blink, watching the sand fall.
Several minutes pass. I don't take my eyes off her, unable to get the things she said out of my head.
She suddenly turns and slides to the ground. She leans against the desk, and exhaustion overpowers her. She hugs her knees and rests her chin on them, muttering, "If you don't kiss me soon, you might need to lock me up."
My heart continues to race.
I need fresh air.
I rise and hold out my hand. "Come on. It's late. I'll walk you home."
She blinks. "What?"
I keep my voice neutral. "I'm not letting you walk around the city sleep deprived, overstimulated, and with compromised judgment, in the dark."
Her breath catches, caught between thrill and exhaustion. The manic glimmer softens briefly into vulnerability. "You'd do that for me?"
I nod. "Of course."
She doesn't speak for several seconds. Then she whispers, "Okay." She takes my hand.
I pull her onto her feet.
She eliminates the space between us and presses her palm against my chest. Her floral scent flares, adding more fuel to my overheated state. She slowly meets my gaze. "I want to be your fantasy, Dr. Mercer."
My cock twitches.
She glances down, then smirks at me. "Hmm."
I step back, asserting, "You'll feel different after sleep."
"No. I won't. Everything you think you can't do with a woman, I want to do with you."
I catch myself before my groan turns audible.
Knock it off.
This is wrong.
Time to go.
I shut off the lights, lock my office, and guide her through the building. When we reach her street, her steps wobble, and I steady her elbow.
She looks up at me like I hung the damn moon. "Red, you won't leave me tonight, right?"
My chest tightens painfully. "I'm here right now."
She nods, as if I agreed to what she wanted.
But I can't. What she thinks she wants is wrong. And the things she claims she wants to do prove she's wrong. She just can't see it because of her manic state.
There's nothing exciting about me. I'm a forty-year-old man who's way too old for her and way too boring. In her fantasy, she wants excitement and taboo.
As we walk through the city, I tell myself that's not me, but the closer we get to her apartment, I realize I'm a liar. I can't push things I've never allowed myself to think about out of my head. And in all of them, she's with me, moaning my name and begging me with flushed cheeks.
By the time I get to her apartment, I'm no cooler than when I left my office. So I promise myself that I'll find her another therapist. She needs help and right now, the way I can't stop thinking about indulging in her fantasies, I'm not the right person to help her.