Her gaze sharpens slightly, and I feel like I’ve just handed her the keys to a locked door she’s been dying to open within me.
“Well, that depends on the person. Why? Are you asking for yourself?” She bats her eyes playfully as she leans closer. The liquor has clearly loosened her up now and the anger behind her tone before is long gone.
Playful, witty, silly Rhiannon is back in its place, and it makes me want to banter with her like we always do. To kiss her. To hold her against my chest and ask heragainif she’ll just give me a fucking chance or if we’re too damn wrong for each other.
“Depends,” I respond cautiously, her lips are so close I could move my face just an inch and kiss them.
Her pink tongue peeks out, wetting them before she delivers me a blow to kill the mood, just in the way that she always seems to do when things get too serious and she’s trying to deflect my advances.
“Erectile dysfunction, low libido, sexual performance anxiety, pretty much anything you can think of related to sexual health. I can help with it all.”
I know she’s trying to distract me from what’s clearly between us, but this time, I won’t let her.
“Wow. I never thought hearing the wordserectile dysfunctionwould be such a turn on for me,” I murmur.
She laughs and I smile watching her face light up. She’s so damn pretty. In that all natural, down-home kind of beauty you can’t find unless you get away from the city and travel into a small town where the women are home grown, genuine and never leave.
“So, most of your clients meet with you virtually?”
“Yep, I’m not cut out for corporations or private practice, and I enjoy the flexibility of virtual work and doing things on my own. It allows me to be close by the thrift store if it needs back up. It’s a lot, but I enjoy it all and need the money. Plus, most of the sex therapist positions are in NYC and I can only handle two days a week in the city. I actually enjoyliving in Brookhaven.”
I nod because that all checks out with what she’s told me.
“Any other questions for me?” She checks her watch. “We have five minutes of our appointment left.”
“How about your in-person clients. Do you ever... take a more hands on approach?”
She raises a brow. “Sort of. We discuss techniques for foreplay that may enhance pleasure, especially if one or both partners feel disconnected in the relationship. I don’t dive into that topic until I’m sure there’s safety for vulnerability. I always make sure first that a couple is comfortable talking right in front of me about what they like or dislike with zero shame. Together, we create a plan for what they can try in the coming week. And sometimes, I prescribe role-playing or other exercises designed to build trust and intimacy.”
“Hm.” I hum softly. “So, you guide them, but don’t participate?”
Her brows raise. “You’re asking me if I’ve had any physical contact with my clients?”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not. That would be completely inappropriate.”
I shift a little closer to her on the couch, feeling like a magnet drawn to her presence. My interest is no longer just professional curiosity, it’s personal. Hell, it’s always been that way since she showed up.
And while I know I’m not an actual client, the sound of her voice—confident, clinical, intelligent, yet still dripping with something inherently sensual—has me hooked.
I could sit here all day listening to her talk about sex, pleasure, and intimacy. Hell, maybe I shouldbook a session with her every week; tell her I have problems just to hear her casually dissect the intricacies of human connection while her lips form around words likearousalandemotional connection.
Maybe that’s how I can convince her to give this thing a chance.
And that’s why the next question out of my mouth is completely off-script and one-track minded.
“What if I told you I needed some tips for pleasuring a woman? Would you be able to walk me through that?”
Chapter 27 – Rhiannon
My eyes widen and I scramble to remind myself: this is supposed to be aprofessionalappointment. He technically paid for this session with me.
Yes, I’m only here because he was jealous of my non-date with Rebel, but I can keep things professional.
Icankeep this professional... right?
But then I look at him. Cain, lounging on his never-used, white couch in a light gray three-piece suit with the sleeves rolled up revealing his veiny, tattooed forearm.
