Her lashes fluttered.
Now I stopped dancing completely. People twirled and swirled all around us, but they barely existed.
Amaris was giving me mixed signals. She was saying one thing with her words, but her body was giving me a thousand green lights, delivering an entirely different message. I could feel the sultry heat pouring off her, dizzying me with lust.
It would take a helluva lot to make me believe she didn’t want me as much as I wanted her.
I lowered my voice and my face. “This is the fact, Mary: if you didn’t want me as much as you now know I want you, you’d simply see me in your office on Monday and process this entire thing with me. You’d tell me that my aggressive and headstrong nature was the reason for my behavior tonight. You’d tell me that my attraction to you has something to do with my childhood; but instead you’re here trying to convince me that we can’t do this.” I paused, giving my point a chance to sink in.
“I’m not trying to convince you of anything,” she insisted in a hard whisper. “I’m only telling you the bare-boned facts.”
“Uh-uh,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s more than that.” I raised my hand and brushed my fingers over the soft edge of her jaw. An involuntary heavy breath lifted out of my lungs.
Her lips were inches from mine, and all I needed to do was…
I hesitated for less than a second before touching my mouth against hers.
Amaris gasped and shock made her body as stiff as a pole. She tried to jerk away from me, but it was lackluster; and when I ran my tongue along the inner edge of her bottom lip, she liquified, turned molten. A dark, throaty moan rose in the back of her throat and like magic, her lips slowly parted for me.
Jesus Christ…
I slipped my tongue into her mouth, which tasted like tart wine and sweet cheesecake, and our tongues danced alongside the rhythm of the music. My hand raked across her hot skin and dropped to cup the fullness of her ass. When she pressed into me, I thought I would explode. My hands scanned her body and rose to her breasts, soft pillows with stiff peaks. My thumb grazed the button and she yelped into my mouth.
I swallowed the sound, taking the kiss to another level. Fuck, I was drunk with agonizing passion for this woman. Like it was for Blaine, it was now a done deal for me. I needed more of this, of her. There was no way I could not have it. I’d do whatever it took to make this woman mine.
Now, the dancing had stopped.
Amaris deepened the kiss with a moan, swirling her tongue over mine in a dizzying flirt. Her fingers sunk into the hair on my nape and I shuddered like a teenaged boy about to ejaculate for the first time. My cock stood to attention beneath my slacks and I pushed my body against her.
My hand found the back of her neck as we twisted, savoring one another with abandon; but suddenly, she ripped away, eyes wide with horror.
I stumbled in her direction, falling into her shadow. “Mary?” Adrenaline pumped through my veins, congregating in my aching cock. I reached out to take her again, but when she sidestepped me and marched back to the table, my heart sank.
Had I missed something?
I scanned the dance floor.
Blaine and Nichola were doing the same thing Amaris and I had been, before the connection severed without warning. They were in their own world, creating moments they’d never forget.
I wanted that.
Flustered, I followed after Amaris and reached her just as she was grabbing her purse. I grimaced, still not understanding what was happening or why.
“Amaris…”
“I have to go,” she mumbled as if she was talking to herself.
My eyes darted, trying to keep up with her harried actions. “Amaris, please wait,” I begged.
She skirted me and started for the exit, but I grabbed her arm, pulling her back.
“Mary, what’s the matter?” I asked staring into her face.
Her eyes never met mine.
“Did… I do something wrong?”
“No, it wasn’t you,” she said. “It was me. This is my fault, I…” her voice trailed off, and she covered her face. “The minute I saw you walk into the restaurant, I should have left.”
I stood back.
Finally, her hands dropped, but she pressed her eyes together, as if she didn’t want to see me. “Maverick, I’m so sorry, but we can’t do this,” she said, shoulders sagging. “We can’t dance, we can’t be here, and we certainly can’t…” She couldn't even say the word. Amaris drew a sharp breath. “Five years.”
I shook my head. “What are you talking about?
“There are strict rules and guidelines, which dictate the nature of the client-therapist relationship,” she explained in a rush. “I have an entire code of ethics that governs my professional behavior. We can’t be friends, let alone anything else, for five years after therapy has ended, and even then, it’s unrealistic. If anyone ever found out about what just happened between us, I would totally lose my license!”
My jaw locked.
“That's what I was trying to tell you,” she said, finally giving me her eyes. “Obviously, Blaine and Nichola have no idea that I’m your therapist and I didn't say anything because…”
“Confidentiality.”
“Yes,” she agreed nodding quickly. Then her nodding turned into shaking. “I'm sorry, Maverick. I hope you understand.”
I swallowed back the log that had formed where my Adam’s Apple had been, but the disappointment at what I’d just heard didn’t erase. Regret curled around my lungs.
“So…” I paused, trying to be deliberate with my word selection. “That kiss… what was it?”
Her gaze fell over her shoulder. “It was a horrible mistake,” she answered in an embarrassed hush. “Never in my professional life have I – ”
I took a frustrated step in her direction. “I don’t doubt your professionalism, Amaris,” I snapped. “All I want to know is whether you want me as much as I want you.”
“Don’t do this, Maverick,” she pleaded, her eyes hard and watery. “If anybody ever found out about what just happened – ”
“How would anyone find out?” I challenged her. “No one here knows you’re my therapist.”
“How do you know that?”
I scoffed. “If anybody here is going to counseling, it’s with Dr.-Fucking-Phil, or some other celebrity therapist that charges a million dollars an hour.”
She rolled her eyes away from me, but a small smile toyed with the edges of those tasty red lips.
I took another step towards her, a small one this time. She tried to move away, but I halted her by taking her hand.
She froze. “Maverick, please,” she whimpered.
“You don’t want me?”
Her eyelashes fluttered.
“Because I want you,” I said. “You know that now. And it’s not lust or primitive desire. It’s real.”
Her eyes fluttered away again, but I anxiously repositioned her face with a finger to her chin.
“Be honest with me, Mary,” I pleaded. “Are you attracted to me?”
She pulled away. “You wanna know the truth?” she whispered.
“I’m dying to know the truth.”
She huffed and lifted her chin. Her gaze was steady and severe. “I’ve never been with a man before.”
My neck pulled back. “So you’re into women?”
“I don’t mean like that,” she said. Her chin dipped with embarrassment. “I’ve never… kissed anyone or done anything, or…” Her mouth pinched.
Jesus Christ, she’s a goddamn virgin?
“You know what? That’s way too much information, and it’s not about me,” she was saying. “The point is, we are what we are, and there’s no way we can be anything more.”
For five years…
The words were on the edge of my tongue, but I quickly bit them away.
We stared at one another until her eyes fell from mine, and then I looked at the floor.
“I’m… disapp
ointed,” I admitted, kicking something invisible. “I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I’m attracted to you.”
“I’m nobody, Maverick. I’m inexperienced and sterile. I'm sure there are tons of beautiful women worth your time.”
My brows pulled. “Do you really mean that?”
“Definitely. Even Linkie said – ”
“Do you really believe that you’re nobody?”
Her mouth pressed closed. I touched my thumb to her plump bottom lip and tugged at it until they parted. “You are everything, you're perfect,” I whispered, “and now that I’ve tasted you…” I let my eyes drink her in.
She gasped and pulled back.
My hands rolled into loose fists. “Five years, huh?”
“Five. Entire. Years.” She straightened her shoulders, as if to convey her seriousness. As if it would change my mind about her.
I gave her a half-smile and shrugged one shoulder. “Okay.”
Amaris frowned, clearly unimpressed with my succinct response. “What do you mean okay?”
“I mean I understand,” I clarified. “You explained it perfectly. It’s as clear as mud.”
She grimaced and stared into my face. “Do you really understand?”
“I do,” I promised. A better moment for me to taste her lips again would never present itself, but I swallowed and committed myself to being a good boy. The last thing I wanted was to do something that would make her run away from me.
“T-thank you, Maverick,” she said, and she smiled.
I smiled back, but it felt stiff on my face.
Amaris adjusted the clutch under her arm and ran her fingers through her curls. “I guess I should go.”
“Yeah.”
Silence.
“Will you… tell Nichola and Linkie – I mean Blaine, that I had to run and will catch up with them later?”
I nodded.
“And… I’ll see you on Monday?”
“You will.”
“We still need to talk about what’s going to happen now that we’ve…”
I saved her. “We’ll talk.”
She nodded and smiled again, and then without anything left to say, she scurried away like Cinderella at midnight.
I stared after her, something clutching my throat, and in an instant, the wheels in my mind started to turn. I touched my finger against my lip, still feeling the erotic burn of her touch.
There was no way I could let it end here.
Yes, I understood.
I understood that she was pure and petrified.
I understood that I was her client and she was my therapist, which meant that ethically, she couldn’t engage me; but I couldn’t help but think that part of her wanted it to happen, even if it was a subconscious part.
Amaris wanted me.
I wanted her.
Five years…
Okay.
9
Amaris
Monday
~Session Four~
I rushed through the front door of the office, huffing like I’d run a marathon. My hair was stuck to my neck with perspiration, despite the fact it was October and the chill had started to blanket the atmosphere. I was a hot mess!
“Sheila, I need you to cancel my two o’clock!” I blurted.
She grimaced but tapped her fingers on the laptop. “Sure,” she agreed cutting her eyes in my direction. “No ‘good morning’?”
My shoulders dropped. “Sorry, Sheila. Good morning. You know that’s not like me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I know,” she concurred. “Is… everything okay?”
“Everything is fine!” A total contradiction to what I’d just said, but whatever.
Her frown deepened. “How… was the date?”
“What date?”
“The date?” she repeated slowly. “The one you had on the weekend? The one we talked about before you left the office on Friday?”
“Oh…” I chuckled and swiped my hand through the air, “that wasn’t a date.”
“It was supposed to be a date…”
“It was supposed to be, but the guy wasn’t my type,” I lied, “which was a shame, because I was really looking forward to the possibility of meeting a nice man.”
Sheila narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t cut things off before they had a chance to begin, did you?”
“No,” I said, yanking back, as if the insinuation was incredulous. “I was totally open to the possibility.”
Too open…
“And you didn’t… allow the religious mantras that run through your mind, the ones about how to be a perfect little girl, to make you feel guilty, right?”
This bish knew too damn much about my personal life.
“What?” I scoffed. “No! It… just wasn’t meant to be, Sheila.”
Now Sheila’s mouth bunched, as if she were truly disappointed. “Mary, I’m sorry,” she offered, shaking her head. “And we had such high hopes for this one.”
“Yeah, well… maybe next time, right?”
“Exactly,” she agreed, and her countenance brightened. “That’s the spirit! Don’t give up hope. That’s something you’d tell your clients. When the time is right, everything will fall into place. It could be weeks, months, or years, but never give up hope.”
I smiled and nodded, neck stiff. I pointed at her computer. “So… you cancelled my two o’clock, right?”
“Yeah,” she confirmed looking back at the screen. “Do you have a personal appointment at that time? I can schedule it in.”
“Yeah, I have a supervision meeting scheduled and forgot to add it to the calendar. I tried to reschedule, but unfortunately, there’s no way I can get out of it. Please call Maveri – er… Mr. Dangerfield and have him come at another time.”
Sheila’s eyes went thin.
I needed to pull myself together. The last thing I wanted was for her to play detective and start weaving together a story that didn’t exist.
Okay, a story did exist, but like Maverick had said, only him and I knew. I’d lowered my defenses and committed the cardinal sin of therapy, but then I’d laid down the law. I’d told Maverick that, because of my role as his therapist, what we were doing was one hundred per cent inappropriate. I’d seen it happen to contemporaries who’d fallen prey to their emotions and been unable or unwilling to maintain the boundaries of the therapeutic relationship.
There was no way I’d be one of those people. It didn’t matter if I was attracted to Maverick… like really attracted to him…
It didn’t matter if I’d let him kiss me and my toes had curled in my shoes. It didn’t even matter that the way he looked on Friday night… tall and lean, muscular and chiseled… And the way he smelled – amazing… had haunted my dreams for the entire weekend.
I’d… laid down the law.
My vagina clenched in rebellion.
I tuned in to Sheila, who was still staring, and cleared my throat.
“Mary, Mr. Dangerfield isn’t scheduled for two o’clock,” she said, once my full attention was back on her.
I almost choked. “What do you mean? I checked my schedule from my phone on Saturday morning and he was slotted for that time.”
“Right, but he called first thing this morning and rescheduled. Again.”
“Shit!”
This man’s got me cussin’!
“Why the hell does he keep doing that?” I was talking to myself, but Sheila answered.
“He said he had an urgent meeting at that time, and he couldn’t get out of it. He’s very busy, Mary.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and nodded.
“Anyway, he’s coming at ten o’clock.”
I glanced at my watch.
That was in an hour, and there was no way I could cancel him again. It was unethical, and besides, Sheila’s nose would really start to twitch.
“Okay, well, I guess it all works out, right?” I tried to laugh, but it scraped the sides of my throat on the way out.
“For sur
e,” she agreed. “I know how much you hate cancelling clients, and Mr. Dangerfield seems so invested in these appointments.”
Or in me…
“It’d be a shame to let him down, especially after the strides he’s made in just three sessions. He seems different, Mary. You said it yourself. He was closed and confrontational when he arrived, but now, he’s like a new man.”
I nodded, my neck feeling like a piece of dried-out wood. “Right, well…” I cleared my throat. “I should go. I need to prepare for my first client, and then of course, I need to prepare for Mr. Dangerfield.”
Damnit to hell…
I was overreacting. I was being ridiculous. I was allowing countertransference to get the best of me.
Maverick had been right.
All I needed to do was process the things that had happened on Friday night and explain how uncomfortable it had been. I could ask probing questions about why he believed he was attracted to me. Perhaps it was displaced. Clearly, he was projecting the feelings he had for another woman onto me, his therapist. Or, it could be unresolved issues related to his mother.
That crap happened all the time. Clients came with issues, and they’d attribute them to the therapist. It was part of the process – counseling 101.
I was a goddamn professional. I could handle Maverick Dangerfield. I simply needed to get my mind together.
At 9:45, I was finishing up with my couple, who’d just come back from Italy. It had been a routine session: an argument here, a tear shed there, but by the end, they’d agreed to continue working on their relationship. They agreed to spend a little quality time together, reassessing their individual and joint values, and what they each wanted from the relationship.
Easy-peasy.
I escorted them to the exit and waved them away. When I turned back into the office, I saw the waiting room with the closed door.
Maverick was in there.
I could feel him.
I could smell him.
I steadied my shoulders.
“Your next appointment has arrived,” Sheila announced. She was smiling, and I knew it meant there’d be another hear-but-don’t-speak session before I left at the end of the day.
“Perfect,” I lied. “Let me just write up a clinical note and I’ll grab him.”
Five Years Page 8
