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“The first sessions are almost always the most challenging ones. Especially for patients who haven’t visited a psychiatrist before.” I tap my pen on the notepad. “So, in order to earn your trust—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Her cheeks flush with rage. My dick thickens in my pants. “What trust? I’ll never trust you again. Ever.”
I’m more trustworthy than she’ll ever realize. Without me, she would’ve been dead right now.
An untrustworthy man would’ve left things as they were back home. Would’ve chosen to ignore the signs Rylan had been displaying over the last few weeks. Weeks.
That man—that fucking irresponsible prick she thinks I am—would’ve chosen the easy way out. Leave Ry to do her thing. He wouldn’t have come up with an elaborate contingency plan like I have.
That man wouldn’t have bothered trying to stop Rylan from killing her.
These thoughts are counterproductive. They won’t help me extract the information I’m desperate for.
“Here’s a truth for you, Leighton.” Being the professional that I am, I refrain from calling her by her nickname. “I’ve built this house for you.”
Her jaw drops. She had to have guessed this by now, but hearing it hits different, I’m sure.
I curb the need to touch her. I refrain from placing a finger under her chin and snapping her pretty little mouth shut.
This could deteriorate really fast once I have my hands on her.
“You’re serious.” Her words are whispered.
They’re felt through my body, nonetheless. Hope and accusation. That’s what it feels like.
On my pad, I scribble trust issues. She growls at me. I offer her a stern frown.
“I am. Even though I, myself, had no idea whether I’d ever bring you here. Still, I went ahead and built it.” With my gaze fixed on hers, I give her access inside my head. Exposing my obsession to her. “I couldn’t tell you I loved you because it was never the right time. Always too complicated.”
Forever too fucking risky.
“Okay.” Leighton’s lips snap shut, and she mimics my posture.
Her ankle crosses her knee, subtly making the shirt ride up higher. She’s baring her pussy to me. Teasing me. Playing on my weakness.
And I fall for it. I’m wrapped up in her, so of course I fucking would.
Continuing her seduction plan, Leighton slides her foot lower, down her shin. Her curvy thighs press together. One knee locks on top of the other. Then she pushes her shirt up a little higher before returning her hands to the arms of the chair.
“Doctor Kingston?” she purrs.
I straighten up, evaluating my opponent. My patient. My love.
How quickly she’s pulled herself together to fuck with my head.
Well played.
“I asked you a question,” I say, my voice flat. “How do you feel today?”
“I feel horny.” She puts everything into manipulating me. One of her hands slithers over to where my elbow leans on the arm of my chair, her nails lighting up my nerve endings. “What can we do about that?”
“You’re crossing a line.” I release the legal pad to rest on my lap. My fingers lock on Leighton’s wrist. The touch is electrifying. Placing her hand back on the arm of her chair is pure anguish. “I’m looking for a straightforward, honest answer. Think you can give me one?”
Her stomach rumbles again. She frowns, and I smirk. Her bratty mouth won’t be honest with me. Her body will. Every part of it.
Resting the pen and legal pad on the table, I lean over to grab the water bottle.
“You need more persuasion, I gather.” I’m not gentle when I shove the straw against her closed lips. “Open up.”
