Chapter 6 #2
He narrows his eyes and gestures at me. “But it’s not just about me, is it? You just want to fix something inside yourself.”
“That’s an interesting theory.”
His grin widens. He knows he’s onto something.
“Tell me, Doc. What exactly are you trying to fix?”
I stay silent and tell myself I’m still in control, but the truth drips slow and sweet against my skin.
The closer he gets, the more the air changes.
Hotter. Thinner. Harder to breathe. It’s in the way his narrowed eyes stay too long on my lips, in the way he cracks his fingers, savoring the hunt before the kill.
His grin stretches wider as my silence is giving him all the confirmation.
My answer wouldn’t have mattered. I would’ve lost either way.
“That bad, huh?”
Stay in control.
His eyes flick down, just for a second, watching the way my throat moves as I swallow.
That's all he needs.
He moves to my side of the desk, getting close enough that I can smell the salt on his skin and a faint trace of sandalwood aftershave. The heat of his anger is in my aura, pushing and pulling my electromagnetic field like a frantic hate fuck.
“You’re not as together as you want people to believe.”
I pant unevenly, my cock swelling and straining painfully inside my boxers as he strokes a loose strand of hair over my shoulder.
“I bet it’s exhausting,” he breathes. “Keeping up the act, playing the perfect therapist who’s got it all figured out.”
The haze is getting darker, getting deeper.
I feel the adrenaline of being wanted. Of being hunted.
“You keep everyone at a distance. But deep down?” His breath brushes the sensitive skin behind my ear now.
“You’re fucking lonely.”
No.
No, no, no.
My pulse stumbles. There’s a whisper of skin contact, but it’s enough to fire things up inside me.
He’s waiting to see if I’ll run. But I can’t. The reckless, dangerous part of me wants to be caught. I want him to sink his teeth into my neck and devour me like a wolf under a full moon.
But at the same time, his words land somewhere I don’t let people reach.
He’s wounding me.
He sees it.
He presses the blade deeper.
“When was the last time you let someone in, Yosh? Not a friend. Not a colleague. Someone real.”
Suddenly, I’m the one bleeding out.
Then he does the unthinkable. He touches the onyx stone on my necklace, lifting it between his fingers off my chest.
I slam his hand away and push him aside.
I need air.
I need space.
I rush out of my studio.
“Hey!” Tom calls after me. “Did I strike a nerve, Doc? There you go, walking out on me again!”
I don’t bother to look back. The walls inside me are slamming shut, one after the other.
I hear Scots swearing, something I haven’t heard in years.
I push through the meditation garden, past the guest studios, past the swimming pool, and take the stairs down to the beach.
I press my palms against the limestone rock formation, head hanging forward as I fight to pull air into my lungs. And then, I scream. Endlessly.
You’re fucking lonely.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Damn him. Damn me.
Because the worst part? He’s right.
A sudden pressure on my shoulder surprises me and I execute a quick jiu-jitsu throw, sending Deep Diver tumbling over my shoulder. He hits the sand with a muted thud.
“Jesus, Yosh.” He groans, unzipping his wetsuit as he rubs at his lower back.
“Save that shit for the bedroom, will you?”
My heart’s pounding in my ears. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” I offer him my hand.
“I didn’t hear you coming.”
He grins as he lets me help him up. “Just got out of the water and saw you… sort of losing your shit? Wanted to check if you’re okay. Clearly, you’re not.” His eyes rake over me.
“Rough day at the office?”
“Something like that,” I mutter, still reeling from flashes of Tom McKenna hunting me. My pulse won’t settle.
“Did I hurt you?”
He shrugs. “Nah, not really, babe. Maybe you should come over tonight and inspect my back more thoroughly.” He tosses me a wicked grin. “I'd like for you to drag me into the riptide afterwards.”
“Sounds dangerous,” I tease, deliberately patting his lower back, maybe a little lower than I need to. His spine feels perfectly molded to fit my palm.
I slide my hand over the slick material of his wetsuit before letting go.
“Your back’s fine,” I say, trying not to dwell on how good his peachy ass felt under my fingers.
Then I notice the waterproof duffel bag half-buried in the sand.
“Diving for pirate gold?”
Deep Diver lifts his index finger to his lips. “Something like that,” he whispers.
That’s my cue not to ask any further questions. To be honest, I don’t want to know.
“So… wrestling at my place tonight?” he offers again, trying to sound casual rather than needy.
“I can’t. I have the night shift. And… I get the feeling this thing between us is turning into something more than casual, and I’m not really down for that. Not right now.”
He snorts. “Oh, so this is an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ thing?”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah. Kind of. I’m sorry…”
“I get it. Well, you know where to find the spare key to my front door. Just in case you ever feel like… letting me in through the back.”
I laugh as I shake my head.
If I speak now, I’ll take back every word I just said and end up knocking on his door tonight like the sex-needy person I know I am.
But it doesn’t feel right. I don’t want Deep Diver, and I hate that Tom McKenna ambushed me with that truth. I don’t let anyone in. So it’s not fair to keep the guy in front of me hanging on this thin line of hope for something more. He deserves better than being available for whenever I need him.
“Alright,” Deep Diver sighs, but he keeps staring at me with puppy eyes. Awkward and long. Definitely too long. Finally, he slings the duffel over his shoulder and walks away, leaving me alone with the chaos of my own thoughts.
I watch Deep Diver disappear into the dive shop, and just like that, the aftershock of Tom McKenna hits me all over again.
Keeping my walls up. Letting no one in. Being fucking lonely.
Tears prick the corners of my eyes.
Fucking Tom McKenna. I can’t let him get to me like this.
But is it strange that I feel for him too?
The way he acted wasn’t a personal attack.
I’ve gained enough experience to see what happened back there in my studio.
The attitude, the arrogance, the way he kept looking for my weaknesses…
It's his instinct on steroids kicking in to protect himself from anyone who gets even the tiniest bit too close.
I recognize the pattern because I am this pattern.
I remember sitting down for my first session with Erin, just as prickly and defensive as him.
She was patient and untangled my branches in spite of the thorns I’d grown over the years.
Until now, no other resort guest has challenged me the way Tom McKenna has.
So maybe it’s time for a different approach. I need to step back into my own past and let myself feel what I used to survive.
I need to figure out how to handle him with his thorns out like this.
I’m not afraid of a few cuts, but I won’t let him draw blood like that again.