I pout. "You don't want me to eat protein and relax?"
His chest rises slowly, then falls with just as much effort.
I lean into his ear. "Don't worry, Red. I didn't wear white." I let my tongue lick his lobe.
He sharply inhales.
I pin my wide-eyed gaze on him. "I'm hungry. Aren't you hungry?"
"Go sit down," he says, and takes the Scotch, adding, "You need water. Not alcohol."
I sway my hips, look back, and smile. "Whatever you want, Dr. Mercer." I return to the couch, folding myself into it, eyes locked on his. He doesn't move for a long moment, breathing hard, hands fisting at his sides.
I curl slightly on the cushions, heels still on, lace catching the light. "You always say sleep is important. I'll sleep here. With you."
He stares at me like he's looking at the edge of something he can't come back from. And I know, with absolute certainty, that he's already halfway over it.
The room goes very still. Red stands with the glass in his hand, the candlelight cutting sharp lines across his face, and for thefirst time tonight, he looks human instead of clinical. Devilish. Torn. The man beneath the rules, who's been dying to come out, finally gets to be visible.
I don't rush him. I've learned better than that. I stay curled on the couch, my body relaxed yet buzzing.
It has to be his choice.
Too much time passes. I blurt out, "Was I right?"
He arches his eyebrows. "About?"
My voice shakes. I don't want it to, but it does. "That you're too good for me?"
Finally, he sets the glass down. He steps toward the couch and kneels. His hands cradle my face, and he firmly states, "If anyone's not good enough, it's me for you."
"Not true."
"I'm your therapist."
"And a man," I remind him.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
"Are you scared my father will kill you?"
His eyes open. He hesitates, then asks, "Should I be?"
"Maybe," I say, not wanting to lie.
His jaw twitches.
I add, "I didn't wear white. But you can take my virginity anywhere else, tonight."
Darkness flickers in his irises. His Adam's apple twitches.
I caress the side of his head and whisper in his ear, "You could take me in the ass. I think you'll like it, right?"
"Blue," he says, my name lowered, grounded, stripped of its warning edge.
I circle my pointer finger around his ear. "You don't have to explain. I'll love it as much as you do."
Something in his shoulders gives like a long overdue release. It's the kind that comes after holding yourself together for too long.
