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I’m not lying down yet. I didn’t want to look like a cliché, so here I am, sitting.
“Miss Irvine.” Marcus grounds me back to earth.
I turn my gaze up at him.
I’m drawn to him like a magnet. He’s exquisite. Composed. Professional.
My therapist.
My captor.
This beautiful specimen of a man. Today, he’s wearing a white shirt with two buttons open at the top, dark gray slacks that hug his toned legs so deliciously, and black dress shoes.
His scruff is neatly trimmed. His short hair is brushed back to perfection without a drop of gel on his head.
He looks so put together that I want to make a mess out of him. Muss his hair with my fingers like his words wreak havoc in my head.
“Miss Irvine,” he repeats.
He gazes at me. Expectant. Screaming of authority, dominance, and danger.
He’s my psychiatrist for the day and I’m his patient. There’s no running from this.
Gripping the edge of the couch, I suck in a deep breath. “Morning, Dr. Kingston.”
“Why don’t you get more comfortable?” The slight jerk of his chin suggests I lie down.
Briefly, I consider what would happen to my dress when I do. My boobs will be squeezed out of the tight sweetheart neckline. It’ll be challenging to hide my bare pussy, given how short the skirt is.
I won’t be more comfortable. I’ll be vulnerable. “I think I’d rather stay seated.”
“Okay.” He scribbles on his legal pad.
I’m curious to see what he has there. He might not have anything of importance like that first and second time we had our sessions. He may be fucking with me.
With Marcus, I’m never sure what I’m going to get anymore. He might be passionately cruel. He might be distant and apprehensive. Or he’ll be incredibly sweet and call me baby.
My enigma.
“Well, then.” He crosses one foot over his knee. “How would you say you’re doing today?”
“Nervous. Jittery.” There’s a sound of fabric scratching. Marcus cuts his eyes to my hands, and I realize it’s me. I’m scratching the cushions; I stop immediately. “After last time, I’m scared. In a good way. Is that weird?”
“Hmm.” Black eyes burrow into mine. Into my brain. “Last time won’t repeat itself today. Does that help settle your nerves?”
I peek at him from beneath my lashes. “Is that a promise?”
His “Yes” is definite.
Whether I’m relieved or disappointed, there’s no telling. Another outburst from Marcus would’ve spared me the drilling into my mind. On the other hand, it wouldn’t have gotten us anywhere.
I do want to get somewhere. I want to accept myself. I want to love him freely. He’s the only one who can help me.
“How else would you describe what you’re feeling?”
How do I feel, exactly? My thoughts go beyond the present moment. Far deeper than the last few days. They’re traveling across time and space. To people and a world that isn’t made of Marcus and myself alone.
I’m happy here. I miss my home too. Miss my parents. Miss Ry.
