Revived

by Samantha Towle

  “What?” The word comes out strangled.

  “Oh, he totally does. He told me yesterday that he likes you,” Jett announces.

  “I’m sorry. What?” I snap my gaze to Jett.

  “Yesterday, I asked Leandro if he likes you, and he said it was complicated, but yes, he does.”

  What?

  Kit lets out a deep laugh. “Well, I’m figuring he likes you an awful lot as he’s just dropped a couple of grand on a kart for your son, all to impress you.”

  “Leandro bought this?” I choke out. I know he has, but I just needed to say the words out loud.

  “That’s what the delivery paper says.” Kit thrusts it into my hand.

  I stare down at it in disbelief. My head feels like it’s about to explode.

  I can’t believe he did this.

  “He bought Jett a kart. I just can’t…I mean…why?” I look at Kit, like he has the answer.

  “I think it’s pretty obvious why, Indy.” He raises a brow, giving me a knowing look.

  I take a step back. I feel like I can’t breathe. “This…isn’t right. I mean, I just…can’t…” My eyes come to Jett’s. “You’re not keeping it.” I jab a finger at the offending kart, and immediately feel a stab in my heart at the crestfallen look on Jett’s face.

  This is all Leandro’s fault! How dare he buy my son a kart without even talking to me about it! Not that I would have let him buy him one even if he had.

  What the hell was he thinking!

  Anger flares in my gut like a volcanic explosion.

  My hand curling around the delivery note, I swivel on my heel and march out of there. “I’ll be back in half an hour. Start dinner for me,” I call to them.

  “Where are you going?” Kit calls after me.

  “To shove this delivery note up a certain race car driver’s arse!” I stomp back into the house, put my heels back on, grab my car keys, and slam my way out of there and into my car, heading straight back to the place where I just came from.

  I’VE JUST GOTTEN OUT OF THE SHOWER when I hear the doorbell ringing along with hammering on my front door.

  Grabbing a pair of pajama bottoms, I quickly pull them on and jog downstairs.

  “Okay, I’m coming. I’m coming!” I call out to the incessant banger and doorbell ringer.

  I check through the peephole to see who it is.

  India. And she doesn’t look happy.

  Fuck. The kart must have been delivered today.

  My conversation with Carrick a few days prior flashes through my mind.

  “Ryan, I need to buy a kart. Best place to get one?”

  “Why? Are you thinking of taking a step back in your career?”

  “Funny. It’s not for me.”

  “Who’s it for?”

  “A friend.”

  “Does that friend happen to be a certain therapist we both know?”

  “You stalking me, Ryan?”

  He lets out a laugh. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. The good doctor tells us that she’s got a kid who is obsessed with Formula One. You take him to watch a karting race. The next day, I’m getting a call from you, asking about the best place to buy a kart. Actually, it does take a genius. Fuck, I’m good at this shit.”

  “You’re a prick.”

  “A good-looking prick though. Admit it.”

  “You’re an ugly bastard. Now, tell me where to get this fucking kart.”

  “Look, in all seriousness, do you think it’s a good idea to buy her kid a kart? You might want to fuck her, but she is your therapist. And it’s an extravagant gift.”

  “I’m buying it for Jett, not her. And it’s not an extravagant gift.”

  “Said like a true rich kid. And trust me, nothing says, ‘I want to fuck you,’ like buying a woman’s kid a two-thousand-pound kart.”

  “Look, are you gonna help me get the kart or not?”

  “You know I’ll help. One thing though, can I be there when it’s delivered, so I can see her reaction?”

  Buying it was the wrong thing to do.

  I fucking hate it when Ryan’s right.

  I can’t admit I was wrong about it now though. I have to see this through to the end.

  Manning up, I unlock the door and pull it open.

  God, she looks gorgeous. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold. The breeze is blowing her hair into her face. She pushes it back with her hand.

  Her gaze immediately falls on my bare chest. Her pupils dilate, her eyes filling with obvious lust.

  She wants me.

  I have to hold back the smug grin I feel.

  “You’re wet,” she says, sounding breathless.

  Well, I am kind of hoping you are wet, too, baby, and that is why you are here.

  “I was in the shower.”

  “Oh. Right…” Her eyes are still fixed on my chest.

  And even though I’d be quite happy to let her stare at me all day, I need to know if she’s here to yell at me for buying the kart, or if by some miracle she’s here to thank me for it.

  I’m really, really hoping for the latter.

  “India, did you need me for something?”

  She seems to come back to her senses. “Oh, yeah, I did—I mean, I do!” Her eyes flick up to mine, the lust gone, replaced with fire and ire. “What’s the meaning of this?” She thrusts a piece of paper in my face.

  She looks even more beautiful when she’s angry.

  “What’s the meaning of what?” I ask, taking the paper from her, I look at it.

  It’s a delivery note for the kart.

  “The kart, Leandro. Why would you buy my son a kart?”

  Here we go…

  “Because Jett said he wanted to get involved in the sport. Having his own kart will make that easier for him.”

  She looks at me, eyes wide. “Do you not see how wildly inappropriate buying a kart for my son is?”

  I fold my arms over my chest. “No. I really don’t see the problem here.”

  “You don’t see the problem here?” She screeches, gesturing wildly with her hands. “I’m your bloody therapist! That’s the problem!”

  I glance around, making sure there was no one to hear that. Last thing I want is my private business to be spread about.

  “Clearly, you’re pissed off, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t shout my business in the street.” My voice is low, angry. Now, I’m pissed off.

  A flash of guilt passes over her face. “I shouldn’t have said that…I’m…sorry.” She looks contrite.

  “Come inside. We can talk in here.” I stand aside, letting her in, and I close the door behind her.

  Then, we’re both facing each other in my partially lit hallway. She leans against one wall, arms folded over her chest, and I lean against the other.

  “Look, I know you were trying to do a nice thing, Leandro…but I’m your therapist. It would be wrong of me to accept your gift.”

  I can tell that some of her anger has dissipated, but it’s still there, simmering beneath that hot skin of hers.

  Part of me wants to make her angry again. I like angry India. She is sexy as hell.

  “I didn’t buy it for you. I bought it for Jett.”

  “And Jett is my son. It would be”—she runs her hand through her hair, letting out a sigh—“unethical to keep it.”

  That word explodes in my head. “Jesus Christ! I’m so fucking sick of hearing that word! It was a gift, India. Accept it. Don’t. I really don’t care. But stop throwing the unethical-therapist bullshit in my face! You say this, me buying a gift, is unethical. That barely scratches the surface of the unethical things I want to do to you.”

  I hear her sharp intake of breath. It is like a soft palm over my cock.

  Her eyes fill with lust again, her full red lips parting.

  God, I want to kiss her. Fuck her…

  I move off the wall, taking a step toward her. “Right now, I want to get down on my knees, pull off your panties, and show you just how unethi
cal my tongue can be.”

  “Y-you can’t say things like that to me,” she stammers.

  “No?” I cock my head to the side as I take another step toward her. “So, you don’t want me to make you come with my unethical tongue or fuck you with my unethically hard cock? Because it is hard, India. Really fucking hard because of you…for you.” I palm my dick through my pajama pants.

  Her eyes go to my hand, watching me touch myself. “N-no.” Her voice sounds weak, inefficient.

  I know she doesn’t mean it.

  “Liar.” I take another step. “You want me as much as I want you. You’re just afraid to admit it because of the bullshit reasons you’ve built up in your head.”

  She says nothing.

  I take her silence as an invitation.

  I move forward the final step and press my body against hers. She feels amazing.

  She’s trembling. It gives me a sense of tremendous power.

  I trace my fingers over her cheek. “You’re so fucking beautiful, India. Eu quero você.”

  She closes her eyes, and I don’t hesitate another second. I take what I want and capture her mouth with mine.

  Her lips part over mine on a breathy moan, and I take advantage to kiss her deeper, sliding my tongue against hers.

  She’s not touching me yet, but I don’t care. She’s kissing me back, and right now, that’s all that matters.

  I slip my hands around her tiny waist, pulling her into me, as I press my leg between hers.

  She parts her legs on a groan, accepting me, and her arms come around my neck. She kisses me back, hard. And that’s when the kiss gets wet and crazy.

  Hands on her ass, I lift her off the floor, pressing her back into the wall.

  My cock is rock-hard and nestled up against her heat. I can feel her wetness through my pajama pants, and it’s driving me fucking wild.

  I kiss her recklessly, like I’ve wanted to since the moment I met her.

  Her fingers have threaded up into my hair, and she’s tugging on it as she sucks on my tongue.

  I can’t wait to feel these lips around my cock.

  And she tastes fucking amazing, sweet. But I bet her pussy tastes even sweeter.

  I need to taste her. Then, I’m going to spend the rest of the night buried inside her.

  “I’m going to fuck you all night long, India.”

  I feel her body freeze. Then, “Stop,” she pants, her hand pressed against my chest. “We have to stop.”

  What? No.

  She pushes against me as she loosens her legs from around my waist, giving me no choice but to release her, letting her feet drop to the floor.

  Sliding along the wall, she backs away from me, putting an unwelcome distance between us.

  Her lips are swollen from my kiss, her red lipstick smeared. Her hair is all ruffled, chest flushed with desire. I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. And it’s being dampened by the fact that I know she’s leaving before we’ve even begun.

  I’ve never felt more frustrated or at a loss for what to do.

  “India—”

  “No, Leandro. I’m a doctor…a therapist. I made an oath—shit…” Her eyes fill with tears.

  The sight actually rips into me.

  “India…please…” I reach for her, but she steps back.

  “No.” She takes a deep breath. “This”—she lifts a hand between us—“can’t happen…ever again.”

  Then, she’s fleeing from my house, getting in her car. Ignoring my pleas for her to stay, she drives away from me.

  And I stand here wondering if I had never spoken a word, broken the moment, whether she would have let it go all the way, if she would have let me have her.

  OH GOD.

  I cover my face with my hands.

  What have I done?

  How could I let that happen?

  But he was all wet from the shower, he smelled so good, his chest was bare, showing a sexy smattering of dark hair, and he had a six-pack and the V.

  The V!

  And he spoke to me in Portuguese.

  Portuguese!

  How the hell was I supposed to resist that?

  It takes me the whole drive home to calm down and a lot of willpower to not turn around and go back there to let him finish what he started. In a daze, I’m still not myself when I get home.

  Kit knows something is wrong with me.

  Jett’s not talking to me because I said the kart has to go back.

  And I kissed Leandro Silva.

  I kissed a patient.

  Oh God.

  I let my head drop with a thud on the kitchen table. I hear Kit’s soft laugh as he enters the kitchen.

  “Wine?” he asks.

  “Whiskey,” I reply.

  “Uh-oh. Must be bad if you’re breaking out the whiskey.”

  I lift my head to see him pulling our emergency bottle of Jack from the cupboard along with two glasses.

  Sitting on the chair across from mine, he pours whiskey in the two glasses and pushes one over to me. I pick it up and immediately down it, relishing the burn in my throat.

  He laughs. Picking up the bottle, he pours me another. “You want to talk about it?”

  I meet his gaze. “I messed up, Kit. Big time.”

  “The last time you said that to me, you were pregnant with Jett, and that turned out okay.” He points to the ceiling, gesturing to Jett’s room situated above the kitchen. “More than okay, despite the bumpy road that came with it.”

  He’s referring to Jett’s father. The only thing I have to be thankful to that man for is the beautiful boy upstairs.

  “Don’t you mean, mountainous hazard road that came with it?”

  He lets out a low chuckle. “Look, whatever it is, Indy, it can’t be anything worse than what we’ve already been through. And you know you can tell me anything. No judgment.”

  “I kissed Leandro Silva. Well, I let him kiss me, and then I kissed him back.”

  “And the problem is…Dr. Dull?” he asks, lifting his glass to his lips.

  “No. Well, yes. But no.”

  Shit. Dan! I can’t believe I didn’t even think of him in all of this. That tells me one thing. I need to end things with Dan.

  Kit stares at me for a long moment, and then I see it click in his eyes.

  He lowers his glass to the table. “He’s your patient.” It isn’t a question.

  But I answer with a resounding groan and drop my head to the table.

  His hands find my head, one pressed on each side. He lifts my head from the table, forcing me to look at him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Freeing my head from his hands, I sit up, pressing my back against the chair. I blow out a breath. “Yes.”

  I see the concern furrow his brow.

  “This isn’t good, Indy.”

  “I know that!” I snap but instantly regret it. “I’m sorry,” I tell him.

  He nods. “What does this mean?”

  “It means that, if the Health and Care Professions Council find out, I’ll lose my license. And if he brought up malpractice…I could, at the very least, be sued. Worst case…I’d go to prison.”

  “Would Leandro tell them?”

  “I don’t think so…but I broke the rules. Not just the rules. My oath as a therapist, Kit. I should tell the HCPC myself, confess now.”

  “And lose everything you’ve worked for over a kiss with a man who was fully aware of everything he was doing?”

  “It’s not that simple.” I put my head in my hands. “I’m just like him…” I lift my head, my eyes meeting Kit’s. “I’m exactly like Paul.”

  His eyes flare with anger. “You are nothing like that piece of shit. You were fifteen when he started a…physical relationship with you. You were a minor. A foster kid. Needy and vulnerable. And he was your fucking caregiver. You are none of those things to Leandro Silva. He is a grown man from a good background, with an established career.”

  I slowly shake my head. “He mi
ght be all those things, but if he was a hundred percent okay, then I wouldn’t have been treating him.”

  “None of us are ever a hundred percent okay, Indy. You know that. Can you tell me what you were treating him for?”

  I trace my fingers over the wood patterns on the table. “You know I can’t.”

  “I think you’ve already broken the rules when it comes to Leandro Silva, so telling me won’t hurt. It might actually help.”

  I take a deep breath. I can trust Kit. I know I can. I hate to break trust with a patient, but I need help. “After his accident…he’s been suffering from PTSD. He can’t get back in a car to drive. He’s unable to race. I’ve been helping him with that.”

  “Okay…” He nods. “Any substance abuse?”

  “He drank, but he stopped easily enough. He was drinking to forget, and he was using sex with random women to make himself feel better.”

  “He sounds like pretty much every celebrity out there right now.” He chuckles.

  “It’s not funny, Kit.”

  “No, it’s not. But he’s not broken in the worst sense of the word. He suffered a terrible accident that stopped him from doing what he loved, and he needed help finding his way back to it.”

  “And I’ve been that help. He’s built a reliance on me, and he is mistaking that for something else. Because of my own feelings for him, I let it happen.”

  “You’re always so hard on yourself, Indy. By the sound of things, he’s fully capable of making his own decisions. You haven’t taken advantage.”

  I give him a look, telling him exactly what I think of that statement. “It’s wrong, Kit.” I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands.

  “If you weren’t his therapist and he was still the same man with the same problems, then it wouldn’t be wrong.”

  “No, but I am, and it is. God, I wish it were that simple.”

  “Life is only as hard as you make it. And don’t go throwing your career away over one kiss with a man who knew full well what he was doing.”

  I pick my glass up and get up from the table. “Thanks, Kit. For listening…and helping.” I kiss the top of his head as I pass him. “I’m gonna head upstairs. Take a shower, and think things over. I need to process everything.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Indy. You’re only human.”