Chapter Twenty-Three
Alfie
Mia heads to the café on Saturday as usual.
I watch behind the penis-shaped bush once again and see her take her usual seat, giving the barista a hug before grabbing her coffee and almond croissant.
She’s got that excited look on her face, and I can spot the instant the barista tells her it’s free of charge.
She’s their hundredth customer of the day, and this is a new initiative that I bribed them to create this morning when I prepaid Mia's order.
Now I just have to sit and wait for Nate to show up, like I suspect he will.
I glance toward the alleyway he was hiding last time, but he hasn’t shown up yet.
At least, not that I can see. The weather has vastly improved since I last caught him, and there are more people walking along the sidewalk, so it’s hard to get a good view.
I’m even more certain that watching patients, if they’re saying anything alarming in sessions, is the right thing to do.
How could I ignore this when clearly he’s been harassing Mia?
I should have taken action when I realized he was watching her the first time.
But I’d hesitated, and now Mia was suffering and feeling unsafe.
It meant that she stayed with me for the last three nights, and for that, I may just have to send Nate a thank-you card.
I offered her the guest bedroom, but she refused, claiming that she felt safer sleeping next to me.
She let me hold her, but I haven’t pushed her to do anything else since then.
I don’t want the threat of someone else influencing her to sleep with me.
I’m not a fucking monster. And yet every morning when I wake up with my cock nestled against her ass, I hate myself a little more.
The soft feminine scent of her hair, the curve of her hip, her smooth skin beneath my palms. With every night that passes, a thread in the imaginary rope holding my restraint together snaps, and I’m mere inches away from rolling her over, pinching her nipple and sliding myself into her wet cunt.
My skin prickles as I spot Nate, the hood of his sweatshirt hanging over a baseball cap.
He’s biting the skin around his thumb again, agitated, bouncing from foot to foot.
I watch him cautiously. After the incident with Vincent, I’m not sure I could incite another tackling, especially with Mia in the vicinity.
Who can say what she would do? The strangest thought runs through my mind as I hope for a split second that Nate isn’t wearing underwear, for his own sake.
He hasn’t even done anything wrong yet. Standing outside a café isn’t a crime. Stalking obviously is, but if that were enough, then Nate and I would be locked up together attending group therapy sessions before the week is out.
I need to stop doing this soon, don’t I?
This can’t continue. If Mia decides she wants me, if she decides she wants to really give this relationship a shot, following patients will need to stop.
I can’t control everything, and I’m walking down a dangerous path of thinking I can anticipate everything, prevent every relapse or potential crime.
I’m spreading myself too thin. And for the first time since my college relationship ended and my father told me I need to step up and put my patients' needs above all else, I don’t want to.
I want to have something that’s mine, something to care for and nurture, where I reap the benefits and not someone else.
I want to feel the love of someone who I love.
And I’m slowly starting to realize I want that person to be Mia.
It’s like everyone has known it since the day she started working for me, and it’s taken me three years to come to terms with it.
Maybe it’s because she’s leaving soon. Maybe it’s my way of trying to hold on to her when I didn’t have to before.
Things have changed between us in the last few weeks.
The attraction to Mia has always been there.
Of course, I can acknowledge her smile, her hair and her soft curves.
But there is nothing like spending time with someone and learning that they make you laugh in ways you haven’t since you were a kid.
Being fully relaxed with someone that you can take off the mask you wear for everybody else.
“Who are we watching today?” The gravelly tone of a fake male voice scrapes on my eardrum. I jump forward, spinning around, my fists up.
“Fuck me, Mia, are you kidding? I nearly took a swing at you.”
“Ohhh come on then, Rocky, show me what you’ve got.” She jumps from toe to toe, circling me like a raccoon would a roast chicken carcass.
“Mia…”
“Come here, Jonesy let me borrow these. I’ve been dying to use them.” She pulls a pair of high-tech binoculars out of her purse and holds them against her eyes.
What. The. Hell.
“Jonesy? My Jonesy?”
“Yes, I sent him a message and asked him if he had any military-grade binoculars I could borrow, and he said yeah sure. They’re just on loan though, so be careful.”
She hands me the weighty contraption, and there are more buttons on it than my TV remote. I glance back at this beautiful, surprising, and utterly reckless woman, mouth parting and a trickle of sweat running down my back.
“You told Jonesy about this?”
“Of course not. I said we had gotten into bird watching.”
“And he believed you?”
I don’t know if I should be happy or concerned that Mia has ingratiated herself in my friendship group.
The fact that Jonesy hasn’t even mentioned giving her military-grade equipment for my non-existent bird watching hobby strikes a nerve.
Jonesy keeps to himself, sure, but why the hell isn’t he mentioning this to me?
“It’s more believable than stalking your patients on a Saturday morning, isn’t it?” She shrugs.
She has a very good point. I’m sure I could justify my predilection for observing patients from afar to Jonesy.
He is in the military after all. He watches people for a living.
Even if he is a service personnel psychologist, some form of observation would be a part of that.
I doubt he would even judge me for it, given that he knows my history and what happened when I first qualified.
“Don’t think I’m not pissed at you. You promised I could come with you on these things.” She pouts.
She still hasn’t clocked that she is the reason I’m here.
Images of the sheer anguish on her face, the quiver of her lip and the tremble of her hand when she found out Nate had been leaving those notes fill my vision.
I don’t want her to be frightened anymore than she already has been.
I want to protect her. So, I turn her away from Nate and walk toward the café so we can sit down properly.
“I spotted you actually, but I was on a call so I was just finishing up before heading over. Do you mind if I join you?”
Her eyes dip low to my lips like she’s watching the lie spill out, but she doesn't say anything. Just slips the binoculars away and nods. I go to put my hand in hers, but she moves it to swipe a hair behind her ear before I get a chance.
Once we’ve ordered and taken a seat, she heads to the bathroom and I pull out my phone, opening the group chat for the Dinner Club.
Alfie: I need help.
Lottie: What’s wrong?
Katie: Tell her you’re sorry. I asked in advance the other day, she likes peonies. You’re welcome.
I hate that Katie assumes it’s something with Mia, and it’s fucking annoying that she’s right.
Jonesy: If it’s with the binoculars, call me. I can show you how the different settings work.
Christ. Why did he have to bring up the binoculars?
Alfie: Things have progressed with Mia. She freaked out and now things have backtracked.
Caleb: Why did she freak out? Do you do something weird in bed?
Alfie: No Caleb, I haven’t scared her off.
Jonesy: Wow, he didn’t deny they’ve slept together. Did Dr. Angel just kiss and tell?
Alfie: I don’t have time for this. Yes. Things progressed physically. Are you happy?
Katie: PEONIES.
Lottie: Have you tried talking to her about why she freaked out?
Alfie: She doesn’t want a relationship, she wants us to be friends with benefits until she gets a job and then we will call it quits.
Lottie: And you want a relationship. Our little commitmentphobe is ready to go ALL IN with his lady. I can’t believe we’re living in this timeline.
Alfie: Please contain yourselves.
Lottie: EMERGENCY DINNER PARTY TONIGHT. EVERYONE GET HERE FOR SEVEN AND WE WILL PARENT TRAP THESE TWO.
Alfie: Please no. Just tell me how I can fix this.
Katie: I’ve texted Mia. She’s confirmed she’s free. See you tonight, lover boy.
Caleb: There was no opportunity for me to intervene. Sorry, Alf.
Jonesy: Another night with you, princess. Can’t wait.
Katie: I’m glad you’re finally enjoying the cot, Jonesy.
*Jonesy left the chat*
◆◆◆
Mia pulls out her emerald green swishy skirt and a black jumper from my closet, placing them on the bed.
She’s brought a few clothes over now that she’s staying here until the situation with the notes is resolved.
How it will get resolved, I have no idea.
I could go to the police…I should go to them, really.
Mia is in danger, at least from someone who has a warped view of women, but there’s something niggling at me that says I’m not fully grasping this situation.
Nate is overbearing, but he likes Mia. Despite lingering at her desk to chat, I hadn’t noticed anything that would be overly concerning, at least not in my line of work. I’ve heard a lot worse.
“I might stay at the house tonight,” she says, brushing through her long black hair.
She was going to have to go back at some point.
The whole purpose of her living down the road is that she was supposed to be house-sitting after all.
Guilt creeps up my spine. If there’s a logical argument as to why she shouldn’t go back, it’s not springing to mind, and I can’t very well force her to stay here because I like the way it feels to wake up with her.
“Okay,” I say.
Her reflection watches me in the mirror, a blank expression on her face, and I feel like every lie I’ve told her is written across my skin, like she can read them all.
“I’m grateful for you letting me stay here, but I don’t want to be in your way.”
“You’re not in my way.”
“Why did you lie to me this morning?” she asks, the swerve in conversation giving me whiplash.
“I didn’t.”
“Why are you lying now?” She places her hairbrush on the counter, turning to face me.
My throat dries, and I try to swallow, but my tongue isn’t working. She takes a step toward me, amusement dancing in her eyes, her lip quirks up.
“You’re a shit liar, Dr. Adams.”
“I told you I’m not lying.” I swallow thickly as she runs her eyes down my body; my dick perks up in response. We haven’t had sex in nearly a week, and I’ve been furiously hard at every thought of her, every whiff of her perfume, and every side glance. It’s insufferable.
She continues prowling toward me until the backs of my knees hit the bed. I fall back onto the soft bedding, and she drops to her knees.
Her hands caress the outside of my pants, rubbing against my cock like she’s at a fucking petting zoo.
“Are you sure you’re not lying?” she whispers, her voice dripping with seduction.
“Uh, no.”
“You’re not sure?” She smirks.
“No, I mean, no, I’m not lying. Please don’t stop,” I rasp. I’m not beneath begging. I’ll fucking do it, even if I’m lying, even if I don’t deserve whatever it is she’s about to do for me. I’ll take it and I’ll be a better man after.
She undoes my button, pulling my zipper down inch by inch before I lift my hips and pull them down. “Are you doing this, Mia? Are you gonna suck my cock?”
“Yeah, Dr. Adams. Is that what you want?”
Her eyes are wide as she pulls out my length, running her hand softly down my shaft.
Her nails scrape along my thighs, and my eyes roll back.
I’m in heaven. I’ve died and, for some reason, Mia is on her knees for me even though I’ve done terrible things in my life.
I don’t deserve this because she's right—I am lying to her.
I hate liars, and yet I keep so much from her.
Her tongue licks from my balls to my tip before she sucks me into her mouth. My eyes roll back as she swirls her tongue along the top.
Hot, wet, fucking heaven.
My fingers are rubbing the soft, silky strands of her hair. Before I can stop myself, I’m wrapping it all around my fist, pulling her head down deeper and deeper until tears spring in the corner of her eyes.
She pulls off, gasping for breath.
“Sit on your hands. I’m in control.”
I do as she demands, if only to get her lips wrapped around me again.
She smiles, seemingly pleased with my obedience.
Her palm wraps around the base of my cock, and she slips her mouth back over me.
I make a promise—after tonight, I’m going to be better.
I’m going to stop following patients and Mia around.
I’m going to be a good man, a good partner.
I’m going to prove to myself and my father that you don’t have to sacrifice those things to be a good therapist. I’m going to have it all.
My God, I’m going to fucking come right down her throat. Her mouth is pure sin, and I’m anointing her with my fucking holy water as she worships at my feet. I feel like a god, like nothing can touch me. She makes me feel invincible.
My hips twitch, and my whimpering moans don’t sound anything like me.
“I’m going to come, love. Will you swallow me? Take me down your fucking throat.”
She pulls off me, standing to her full height, so she’s looking down on me, face stone cold as she brushes off her knees.
My dick doesn’t understand. I don’t fucking understand. What happened?
She bends down, her hands on my thighs, her nails digging into my skin just enough for it to sting.
I feel the power radiating from her. I’m no god.
I’m a fucking peasant begging for scraps of anything she’ll deign to give me.
Praying that she’ll give me the release I’m desperate for—no, dying for. She crushes all hope with five words.
“Liars don’t get to come.”