“What are those?”
At his question, Dr. Thomas looked over his shoulder to look at the cords he’d indicated gruffly. “Oh.” She shot that brilliant smile at him again, making his hardness pulse in his jeans. “Those are noise cancellers. They ensure the utmost confidentiality during appointments. Nothing you say here, or anything you might like to discuss will ever leave the premises.”
Well, that he knew. Sean had told him that even though he was venturing outside the network to find an appropriate shrink for his friend, his doctor would still have to adhere to the rules that Special Forces personnel had to follow when they spoke to debriefed SEALs. The fact that other people received the same courtesy comforted him somewhat, though it was nowhere near the impetus that he needed to spill his guts.
They turned into the last room on the right, a small space with a window that looked out onto the hospital gardens. There was a small white sofa, a black armchair, and a desk with an open laptop on it. Behind the desk was a bookshelf stacked with innumerable books with titles he didn’t understand: PTSD and You: Understanding and Recognizing the Symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Chemical-Neural Interactions, Depression and Anxiety Workbook, Obsessive Compulsive Order: A Short Overview…He knew what the disorders were, but seeing so much information on them in one place didn’t help his skittishness.
When the doctor closed the door behind him, she might as well have been sounding his death knell. Even as she sank into the chair adjacent to the desk, he remained standing, staring down at her from his lofty height.
If he’d hoped to intimidate her with the intensity of his stare, it didn’t work. She merely smiled sweetly at him, gesturing to the couch. “Wouldn’t you rather sit?”
Owen shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning back against the wall behind him. He liked to think he could walk out whenever he wanted. “I’m fine standing.”
Her impassive eyes met his as she arched a brow, picking up a clipboard from the desk. “You’re nervous?”
He tried not to watch her dress rise to hug her thighs as she crossed her legs, exposing a swathe of decadent skin that hadn’t been visible to him before. “Do people who usually come in here just spill everything to you straight away, Doctor?”
His tone came out harsher than he’d intended, but when Owen was uncomfortable, no one around him had any trouble discovering it. Since he’d left the SEALs he’d turned into a growing, grumpy force of nature that Sean liked to say could sour milk. However, the doctor didn’t seem cowed by his brusqueness. She merely leaned back in her chair so she didn’t have to crane her neck to look up at him. “Not usually. It takes a while before people want to talk about themselves.”
He merely grunted. If no one wanted to talk about themselves, why even come? “If they don’t want to talk about themselves, what the hell do you talk about?”
She shrugged, tapping her pen against the documents. “The weather. What you had for dinner last night. Who won the most recent NBA game. Where would you like to start?”
He looked down at her with no small amount of disbelief. “So…you’re not going to try and dig around in my head and pull out all my deepest darkest secrets?”
The young woman – and she was young. She didn’t look a day over thirty – merely laughed softly. “Do you want to tell me about all your deepest darkest secrets?”
“Hell no.” He snorted his answer almost immediately. “It wasn’t my idea to come here. My CO set me up. I hate doctors, their offices and their interrogations.”
Owen’s father had always said his honesty would be the death of him; but the former SEAL had no qualms about making himself understood upfront. He was hardly here of his own free will, and he wouldn’t pretend otherwise. However, the doctor didn’t get angry with him. She didn’t eye him with distaste or sigh in exasperation. Instead, she merely set her clipboard back down on the desk before folding her hands in her lap. She’d painted her nails the same lush red as her mouth, he noticed, and tried not to picture those fingers wrapped around his erection.
“To be absolutely truthful, I’m not the hugest fans of doctors either. They’re always poking and prodding you, testing you for one thing or the other. When does anyone ever come out of a doctor’s visit happier than when they arrived?”
Owen eyed her warily. He wasn’t exactly sure where this was going, but it was nothing like he’d imagined. “I’m not quite sure I follow, Doc.”
“Please, call me Genevieve.”
Genevieve. It was a pretty name...almost regal, really – and totally unsuited to a shrink. Part of him wanted to keep the distance between them by sticking to titles, but the other leapt on any shred of information the sultry creature extended about herself; and in this instance, it was the latter part of him that gained a small victory. “Alright, Genevieve.” The word was like silk rolling off his tongue “Maybe you can clear something up for me?”
“Of course.”
“How can you hate doctors if you are one?”
The Doctor’s laugh was low, sinuous, and far too sexy for her own good. “Lieutenant, I’m a psychiatrist. Different strokes for different folks. Do you know anyone who likes injections or dangerous surgeries?”
He supposed she had a point there. Owen glanced towards the sofa next to him, contemplating for a moment. It wasn’t as if his sitting meant he couldn’t get up if he wanted. In a smooth movement, he sidled down onto the white leather, taking a load off. Genevieve hardly reacted, merely smiling serenely. He was beginning to wonder if anything could remove that Zen expression from her face – but then again, she must have had years of practice. “If we’re getting comfortable here, I might as well tell you to drop the Lieutenant. It’s just Owen.”
She arched a brow. “You don’t like to use the title.”
It was a statement, rather than a question, and he shrugged. “No need. Not a SEAL anymore.”
“Aren’t you?”
He scowled. “I retired. A year ago. No duty, no title.”
“Seems a man like you might have a difficult time trying to shed it. You definitely look the part, that’s for sure.” Her eyes flickered down over his long form for a split second before returning to his face, and he read an incremental flush of color over her cheeks. The gesture made his thighs tighten in awareness as he tried to will himself down from the peak of Mount Woody.
She was attracted to him.
He’d stake his life on it. It didn’t take much for him to be able to tell – not when he was watching her so goddamn closely.
Well, this certainly presented a very intriguing situation. Genevieve was supposed to be his psychiatrist – meaning it was her inherent duty to sense his thoughts. Here he was, five minutes into their first session, trying to read hers. He arched a brow at her comment, trying to keep hold of the thin line of propriety he clung to. “And what makes you think I look like an officer, Genevieve?”
The doctor cleared her throat, before her tongue darted out to wet dry lips. “Well, you’re tall – well built. You seem to have an air of authority. Someone who inspires obedience…loyalty. Men follow you into battle because they can trust you.”
“Followed.” He punctuated shortly, refusing to let himself remember how their loyalty had cost them. “Not anymore. Not ever again.” He exhaled hotly before changing the subject abruptly. “You know, you don’t look very much like a shrink.”
Now her entrancing eyes took on a tinge of amusement – they were back in her comfort zone, he suspected – if not for long. “I actually get that a lot. What do you think a psychiatrist is supposed to look like, if not me?”
“Short. Stocky. Coke-bottle glasses with a bookish manner.” He shrugged, listing the first few attributes to come to mind when he thought of the countless men and women he’d met over the past year. He’d taken one look at them before leaving the office to face Sean’s disappointed reprimand every time. “Not like…this.” He gestured to her curvaceous form, clenching his fingers against the impuls
e to run them down the exposed skin of her thigh.
Her color deepened slightly as she arched a brow. “And what, exactly, is this?”
“Like…goddamn seduction incarnate!” He finally burst on a low growl before his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Is this some kind of ploy to get me to talk because I swear to God, I don’t care what you look like, my personal business is my own.”
“Lieutenant Sinclair...” She seemed genuinely flustered for a moment before she cleared her throat, straightening her spine to thrust her decadent chest out before she continued. “I assure you, this is no ploy. I only want to help you. If you find the way I dress…distracting, then I can wear something over it.” She reached for a hook just above her desk, taking down a blazer before beginning to swing it over her shoulders.
“It’s Owen.” He replied brusquely, drawing a hand over his face in frustration. “And for the love of God, take that damn thing off. You look fine. You look fucking gorgeous.” She stopped with her arm halfway into one of the sleeves before eying him, her expression inquiring.
“I’m distracting you.”
At her statement, a snort of laughter escaped Owen. “Doc, you could be wearing a burka and earmuffs and you’d still distract me. Or any man with eyes.” Did she honestly not know what effect she must have on men? Impossible.
The young woman’s brow furrowed as she gazed up at him and then, slowly, she removed her blazer before hanging it back on its hook. When she turned back to him, her Zen expression was back in place. “Alright, Owen.” She made sure to address him in the manner he’d asked this time, which put him slightly more at ease – at least, as at ease as a man could be when a woman was tempting him to the edge of his endurance levels. “How about we talk about what you like to do in your spare time?”
The question might as well have been a well laid trap for how much he’d dearly like to do the very woman who’d posed it. But instead of answering bluntly, he tried to give her what she wanted. “I like sports. Football, basketball. Going to the gym. Hanging out with Eddie.” The notion made him smile slightly as he continued. “Man’s best friend. I got him after I got back and he’ll be a year old soon. Little sucker grew up fast.”
“A puppy.” Her smile grew even wider – delighted. “I’ve always wanted a puppy.”
Owen smirked. “Worst idea in the cosmos. They’re nasty, super-hyper incredibly sensitive little buggers who demand all of your attention and drive you absolutely crazy…until you fall in love with them.” He couldn’t picture his life without Eddie now. The dog was one of the fewer creatures that understood his volatile moods, could withstand his temper, and was always excited to see him. He’d gone a long way in pulling Owen from the dark place he’d been when he returned from Iraq, desolate and hollow-eyed.
Now, he was getting through the days on his own well enough – but to say he was perfect would be an outright lie.
“Sounds like he’s a handful.”
“The only one I can deal with just now.” At his tone, Genevieve laughed softly, shaking her head.
“Do you think me a handful, Owen? We’ve only just met.”
He groaned inwardly at the image her inquiry brought to the forefront of his mind. “You have no idea, Doc.”
“Well, I take that as a compliment. We must be an even match. According to your file, you’ve walked out on several psychiatrists before. I consider it a privilege that you’re still here with me.” Little did she know there was an animal inside him, waiting to be let loose. He wondered if she might still be so eager to handle him if she knew what he was currently thinking about her.
“Let’s face it: you’re not like any shrink I’ve ever met, Genevieve.” He could at least reveal that. “If you want to make small talk, that’s fine. The government’s paying for it. But I’m sure if you’ve read my file then you know I’m not exactly a great conversationalist.”
“We have time to work on that, Owen.” Her eyes gleamed with some indiscernible emotion that made him feel as if he’d somehow given away something unintentionally. “You seem to be perfectly fine talking about Eddie. Could you tell me more about him?”
His pup?
He had no idea why the hell she’d want to know about his dog, but if she did, then who was he to stop her?
For the rest of their hour long session, he told her about Eddie. How he’d adopted the rascal at six weeks at the urging of Sean’s wife, who worried more about him than he worried about himself. When he first adopted the tiny pup, he’d found him more of a nuisance than anything else. Eddie had required constant attention – and the moment he was neglected, he raced off to destroy everything in the house. Then…gradually, after much frustration and many trials, he’d begun to discover how to handle the dog –he was rewarded by the attention and affection Owen paid him with loyalty, and in return, served as a way for the former SEAL to forget his troubles, for a time.
“He’s the only one who’ll deal with me.” He sighed, leaning back against the sofa as Genevieve listened attentively. “I’m getting grumpy in my old age.”
Her lips curved upwards at the statement. “I’d hardly call you old, Owen. You’ve retired quite young, according to your file. I’m sure Eddie appreciates your sacrifice. I’ve love to meet him sometime.”
Well, that would involve her coming to his home; and if she did that, Owen would be willing to bet that Eddie would never make it anywhere near her. His master would be much too busy taking care of his own business.
“Not a good idea.” The reply left his mouth before he could prevent it; but Genevieve, ever unruffled, didn’t even blink.
“I understand. He doesn’t like strangers.”
“Eddie loves anyone. Everyone. He’s not the problem.” Owen’s mouth turned downward into a frown. “It’s me.”
“You don’t like people interacting with the dog?”
“Christ, woman.” Owen leaned forward, unable to stand it anymore. She was going to drive him absolutely insane. For the past hour, he’d been wrestling with himself, trying to calm the erection in his jeans even as he made small talk with a woman whose methods he couldn’t even begin to understand. It seemed as his first session came to a close, he understood nothing about her and she nothing about him. If he was going to get anything out of this little interlude at all, he might as well indulge now. “You seriously have no idea, do you?”
With that, he reached forward to tangle his hands in curls just as lush and soft as they looked before pulling her forward slightly to crush his mouth against hers. To assuage the urge that had been tempting him all afternoon – to finally taste her – the sensation was near indescribable. He knew he was being improper and he’d been taught better, but damn if this woman didn’t have a way of chipping away at all his good intentions.
He expected her to shove at him – to meet his advance with eyes wide in indignation and perhaps even ban him from her office. If she would have done any of those things, he would have relented immediately – he would have known he’d gone too far. Genevieve, however, did none of these things. She inhaled sharply, her hands rising to his chest – and there, they rested, exerting not the slightest bit of pressure as his mouth moved over hers.
Her lips were soft and yielding beneath his, and she tasted like honey. She was a tea drinker – he could tell immediately from the sweet, earthy taste of her. He nipped at her lower lip, his erection jumping in his jeans at the soft, excited hitch of her breath. When slender fingers curled into the material of his t-shirt, he groaned, his fingers curling around her waist to lift her bodily from the chair and into his lap.
A low sound of surprise escaped her when she found herself atop him – but she didn’t ask him to stop. Owen’s tongue slid past the seam of her lips, tangling with her own as he tasted her deeply – lingeringly – content in the fact that no one was going to interrupt them. This was not what he had envisioned for this appointment, but he wasn’t complaining. The woman in his arms was intoxicating – pliant, warm and
fragrant. The more flush his mouth molded against hers, the more he wanted her; to strip of her goddamned alluring dress and have her in her office – right then and there.
His hands moved to the hem of her dress, inching it up over her thighs in increments until he’d revealed the lacy barrier of her underwear, lying flush against the divine curve of her behind.
A low growl of desire escaped him – and in that moment, he forgot everything except the raging desire he had for a woman he was supposed to despise. She arched against him, her fingers sliding through his hair as she moaned against his mouth. It was as if no other man had ever touched her. She was like putty in his hands…and he couldn’t remember the last time a woman felt so goddamn good against him.
As his fingers curled into her bare behind, she whimpered, her breath falling hotly against his mouth.
And then, a low buzzing punctuated the lust that clouded both of their minds.
Owen paused for a moment, frowning against the soft mouth he was currently absorbed in. The buzzing came again, low and pronounced. It was his phone. He’d tucked the device in the pocket of his jeans and forgotten about it. A quick glance at the time revealed that he had gone way over his allotted appointment. He’d be willing to bet money that Sean was calling him to ask how his appointment went.
Owen lifted his mouth from Genevieve’s for a brief moment to reach for his phone. “Gimme a minute.” He murmured huskily, before lowering his eyes to take in the caller ID. He’d been right – it was his CO.
Only at this particular moment he didn’t feel very inclined to want to answer the phone. Owen exhaled a heated breath as his raging erection pulsed. He tossed his phone on the sofa beside him before looking up at the woman in his lap once more, desire coursing through his veins. “Now…where were we?”
Chapter Three: Chemistry
She must have absolutely lost her mind.
From the moment Genevieve had first laid eyes on Lieutenant Owen Sinclair, she’d known he’d be trouble. It wasn’t because she worried about the man himself. She’d dealt with her fair share of difficult patients. No…it was the fact that the man towered over her, making her feel small even at her lofty five-ten, and that he appeared to be one long, strong column of solid muscle. Every woman in the waiting room had been fixated upon him – almost certainly since he’d entered. Emily, the receptionist, had fallen all over herself, and every other patient present in the waiting room had drooled over the man when she thought he wasn’t looking.
Saving the Seal: A BWWM Navy Seal Interracial Romance Page 3
