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“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I would have thought that was obvious.”

Still holding my wrists, he ground his lower body against mine, letting me feel his rapidly growing erection. It should have repulsed me. It should have terrified me.

Instead, an answering pulse of arousal flickered through me. I ignored it, doing my best to think rationally. “You can’t do this.”

“Too late.”

“Not really. You can just let go of me, and I won’t say anything to anyone. I’ll keep your secret.”

He laughed. “No need.”

“You want me to tell people?”

“I don’t want you to do anything except lie back and enjoy yourself. I promise to make you feel good.” He shifted his grip, securing both my wrists with one hand while using the other to sweep a stray lock of hair back from my forehead.

I shook my head to dislodge his fingers. “So this is what you do, is it? Is it a perk of the job? How do you pick which patient to molest? Do you draw names out of a hat, or are there certain character traits you look for in your victims?”

He tilted his head slightly, as though processing my words required effort. The gesture reminded me of someone, although I couldn’t immediately think who.

Perhaps he’d convinced himself it was all part and parcel of therapy, that forcing himself on patients was beneficial. He certainly didn’t appear guilty. If anything, the erection pressing against my thigh grew harder with every accusation.

“I’ve never done this before,” he said.

I laughed. “So I’m special, am I? I bet you say that to all the boys. Is it only boys? Or do girls get this treatment as well?”

His face moved closer to mine. “No boys. No girls. Just you.”

“Right. So… your eyes met mine across your desk, and uncontrollable lust overwhelmed you?”

I intended the question as mockery, but his expression only grew more intense. He released my wrists, but instead of moving away, he stroked his thumb across my cheekbone and down to my mouth, where it caught and pulled gently at my bottom lip.

“So pretty.”

I had the absurd urge to draw his thumb between my lips and suck on it. I resisted, but it was a close-run thing. “I think the word you’re looking for is handsome.”

“Handsome and pretty. Masculine and feminine. Sweet and spicy. Strong, but also vulnerable. Every good thing combined in one perfect package.”

The words were almost poetic, and after the battering my ego had taken that day, they soothed places inside me that felt scraped raw.

“I found out today that my boyfriend and my best friend have been fucking behind my back.” I hadn’t intended to tell him. The words simply escaped.

“Then they’re both fools.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “They are.”

“They should have treasured you instead of betraying you.”

“They should have.”

I knew he was telling me exactly what I wanted to hear, but part of me didn’t care. After everything I’d discovered, didn’t I deserve something to soothe the hurt, even temporarily?

My boyfriend had dumped me in a rehab facility so he and Remy could fuck to their hearts’ content. For all I knew, they’d done it in the bed Tyler and I shared.

Nausea rolled through me at the thought.

First item on the list when I got home: buy a new bed.