We lay there in our own little world while listening to the meditation against a backdrop of a cello of all things. My handtightens around hers, and my heart beats excitedly when I feel her pulse beat slow and steady in her fingers. I rub her thumb in response, right over the thrumming that lets me know she's slightly excited also.
It's the most intimate experience I've ever had with another person and makes me think about how this is the first time in my career that I hadn’t gone to sleep while doing work for my practice. Hannah had spent years begging me not to work so much, and Sarah has seemingly gotten me to do the impossible.
And I haven’t even kissed her yet.
Chapter twenty-six
Dickhead David
ThenextmorningIwake up early, needing to get to the office earlier than normal for an important evaluation. My eyes pop open, and my heart begins to thud heavily inside my chestbecause of how I'm wrapped around Sarah. My eyes lower down to where we're pressed together.Fuck.I'm gripping her breast over the sheet and holding her tummy in my other hand.
God, she's so beautiful and feels so soft.
Cradling her close, I feed that part of me that needs physical touch.
My eyes rise even further up her body to the tops of her bare shoulders, and I immediately see she'd shimmied out of her clothes sometime in the middle of the night. My eyes fly up to where her face is turned away from me. The delicate curve of her neck is tempting, begging me to run my lips along it. I bite back a groan, wanting to taste the flavor of her skin after she's been asleep all night.
My cock thickens as her scent hits me hard, and I want nothing more than to rip the sheet off her body.
The restraint I exercise is strangling me half to death, but I put my desire firmly to the side and work to extract myself from around her. She doesn't deserve to be lusted over the way I am right now. I pull away and move the cover up even more, slowly, so I don't wake her up and interrupt her rest.
And I'm ashamed to say that it takes every bit of my two decades of professionalism to keep my eyes off her as I leave the room.
Distracting myself, I dress in the main bedroom before heading downstairs to text Tyler to see how he's doing. Eerily content, I find I'm enjoying the hush of the early morning as I make lunch for Sarah. Turning, I stick it in the refrigerator, leaving her another note instructing her to grab breakfast out of the warmer and the tea I made for her, and then reminding her to get her lunch for the day.
Keeping my steps light, I sneak back into her room and place the note on my pillow, freezing when I see she shifted enough that the covers pulled away enough to expose her naked legand hip. My face warms with renewed desire as my eyes roam greedily. Her skin is so creamy it looks like butter. It would be so wrong, but the fact that I can't run my hands along that flawless expanse of delicate skin is going to fuck my day up. I already know it.
Exercising an extreme force of will, I back out of the room, and the contentment I'd just felt melts away as I now dread the day ahead because I'm losing her. No—I'm being forced to let her slip through my grasp. And I don't want to, at all.Nothingin me wants to let her go. But I do it anyway because this isn't about me and what I want.
This is about Sarah and the time she needs to heal, to find herself, and grieve.
Locking the front door, the sound reverberates out like a bullet inside my skull because it feels so final, and it makes me hate my house even more than I already do. It's just one more thing to stand between us.
“We don't need to trauma bond” is my mantra, and I play it on repeat extra loud in my head on my drive to work. Forcing my brain to relent what it wants and kowtow to what'sbest.
Somehow I get through the first two hours of work, though I'm rather irritated with everyone and everything. With a heavy sigh, I close the door to my office after my client and her parents leave. My annoyance is at an all time high. I could see the looks the mother of my client was giving me, and I know I was coming across even icier than I normally do. I can't help it, though. I haven’t heard a thing from Sarah, and it stokes the fire of my irritation.
Sitting back in my office chair, I take a rare second to myself, rubbing my hands roughly down my face, and forcing myself to get it together. "Dear God, help me," I plead, but there's no help to be had because I'm like a madman possessed.
Tightening my lips, I lean forward to pull up my work email, pausing as Sarah’s name pops up on the screen. My chest loosens with relief. She's okay. She’d reached out about an hour ago, right when she got into the office it looks like. The relief is short lived, however, as my eyes skim her email. I clench my jaw in fresh agitation at her disrespectful greeting.
Mr.-Dr. Richardson,
It’s Sarah Johnson asking for a rescheduling of our meeting for Client X. I can do Thursday 6p or Friday when you’re free. However, I can’t do after 4p on Friday because I’m performing at the lounge. Please let me know.
Hope your day is going well. I'm focusing on rescheduling the clients I thought I’d be seeing next Thursday, since you’re making me stay an extra day in Vancouver. Smile.
A little anxious about my first night in the apartment. Maybe I should get a cat?
By the way, do you plan on being there? Frick and Frack want to know so we can properly plan for food.
Warmest of the warmest regards,
Sarah Bella Johnson, MA, LPC
I grin at the sight of her sign off with her full name; however, my grin falls fast when I realize Tyler is flying into town on Friday. He'd made plans to stay with me the night before going to his mother’s for a couple of days before returning to Spain. My heart tightens with disappointment. It's a shame. I wanted to crash Sarah’s performance and see her sing. Maybe enjoy a cigar. It's just what I need before speaking at the conference in Vancouver.
Dammit.
