I don't.
Liar!
A thrill runs through me, and my hands tighten so much, I think my knuckles will crack. My voice turns hoarse. "I told you no one should own you."
Her smile turns slow and deliberate. "I told you I want you to."
The admission coils low and dangerous. Every instinct I've trained to suppress flares, alive and electric. Ownership is wrong. Control is a violation. I know that. I've built my entire professional identity on dismantling those urges in others.
And yet...
There's part of me I rarely acknowledge that lifts its head, alert and pleased. It's the part that notices how readily she offersherself, takes satisfaction in how easily she yields, not out of weakness but choice.
"I don't own people," I say, more to myself than to her.
She rests her fingers lightly against my forearm. "You've never had the option before. You hadn't found the woman for you. But now you have. And I'm giving myself to you, because I want you to own me. I want to know that I'm yours to do with what you please."
Visions of Blue in handcuffs, waiting for me and at my mercy, pop into my head.
Get a fucking grip, asshole!
I pull up to the curb and cut the engine. It idles, and the air between us grows thick and charged. I count to ten, then turn toward her. "This is exactly why we need boundaries. You're asking me to step into something that isn't safe for either of us."
"How is it not safe for you, Dr. Mercer?" she challenges, her eyes searching mine, unafraid.
Too many scenarios fly at me, all of her, in positions she shouldn't be in, with me controlling each one.
She leans closer, and her hot breath hits my ear. "You already own me, Red. Once you own someone, you don't get to return them."
I swallow. Her truth presses in from all sides. And I'm utterly fucked.
The drive went too fast. The conversation went nowhere. Every word we exchanged tightened the knot instead of loosening it.
Panic continues to swell until I blurt out, "You need another therapist. I'll work on a referral for you today. Someone objective."
She studies me for a long moment, then nods once. "If that's what you need to tell yourself to survive today, but we both know you won't. You love getting inside my head as much as I love getting inside yours."
I open my mouth to respond, and she pushes the door open. She slips out and leans down. Her voice drops into an intimate warning. "I'll see you tonight."
She shuts the door and saunters into her building without looking back.
I sit too long in the car, my mind split cleanly in two. One side catalogs next steps with damage control and ethical procedures.
The other remembers her taste, the way she trusted me, and how she shook when I had her full attention, controlling her body.
"I'm fucked," I mutter, turn on the engine, then pull out into traffic, pissed I didn't cut things off between us and get her to understand we can't be together.
I maneuver through traffic, get to work, and park. I step inside the building, inhaling the floor polish and coffee. It's a familiar combination that usually settles me the second I step inside. Today, it does nothing.
In the elevator, I stare at my expression, noting my posture aligned with competence, but I don't feel anything but ineptness.
The ride up is mercifully empty. I stare at the numbers as they climb, replaying the last moments in the car despite my best effort to shelve them.
Blue's certainty clings to me, not loud or hysterical but calm in a way that unsettles. She didn't plead. She didn't bargain. She made statements like facts already logged in a permanent place.
She doesn't know what love is.
Doesn't she?
