Page 132 of Lucky 14

“Pull her pants down.”

That makes me dart up and almost off Oakley’s lap, but then big hands are there, holding me down. Kyan’s voice is deeper, more purry. “Easy there. Wouldn’t want you getting up before you’re done.”

“Ky, this is…”

“You think this isn’t making her wet? Why do you think she’s hiding from us?”

That makes me turn my face to glare at Kyan. He just smirks without looking at me. “I want to see your handprint on her ass. I want it to bruise.”

“This counts as hurting,” Oakley says.

Kyan turns to me now, mocking. “Oh, but I’m not trying to hurt you.” He’s parroting what I told him. “Holland can end this anytime by just apologizing.”

The thought makes me rage, and I sputter, “Apologize for what? For not giving a diagnosis when I wasn’t asked for it? You’re not even my client!”

“Shhhh, but remember, I could be if I paid in orgasms.” The smile he gives me isn’t nice.

“I’m sorry,” Oakley says. I’m sure he’s talking to me, but Kyan answers.

“Sorry,” I say in the most mocking voice I can. Partly because I want to avoid Kyan looking at my bare ass, and partly because, despite everything…my body is uncomfortably hot.

“Oh, are you?” He crouches down to my level, jutting out his bottom lip. “Say it again, to my face.”

Those dark eyes look into mine like he’s reading all my secrets. Like he can see just how aroused I am, even though I’m not supposed to be. He sees it, and he mocks it. “Do you like this, Holland?” Suddenly, his hand is there, massaging the spot that Oakley hit over my pants.

“My name is Holli,” I grit.

That gets him to smile more, and he asks slower, “Do you like this, Holli?”

His touch sends tingles through me as it brushes my sensitive skin. I close my eyes so he can’t see the reaction he’s getting, only to realize that the reaction is enough and open them again.

“Good.” He grins. “Now say it for real.”

“What am I apologizing for?” I ask in exasperation. Kyan is serious, getting so close his nose almost touches mine. “For taking away my choice.”

A mixture of true sorrow hits me at the same time as anger. He took away my choice first. He brought me here.

But then I remember that it wasn’t Kyan at all who brought me here. If anyone, it was Wyatt. And despite the fact that they share the same body, I can’t hold one accountable for the other.

So, quietly, I say, “I’m sorry.”

The apology hangs there in the silence for a second. Kyan nods once and stands.

“You have a lot of shit to undo, and I can’t promise it’ll all be my fault.” Then, he’s gone, stalking down the hallway.

For a second, I sit there, then I feel Oakley’s hard on through his pants and push myself up.

“Holli, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” I stand. I can’t make sense of what I’m feeling. It’s empathy and shame and anger at the fucking injustice of it all. And just plain helplessness. I can’t fix this. I can’t make it better. Kyan’s system is complex, and there’s nothing I can do in one session or even twenty to make this better right now.

I need space. I need air.

“I shouldn't have told him. I just thought⁠—”

I hold up a hand. I can’t deal with this gracefully right now. So I stalk to the front door, rip it open, walk into the outside air, and slam the door shut.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE