She places the notebook in my palm without hesitation. Our fingers brush. Heat races up my arm and dives down my spine. I try to ignore it, open to the marked page, and scan her neat handwriting.
She wrote,I'm walking away down a long corridor. I call out, 'Red', but my voice gets swallowed up by the walls. There’s no blood, or glass, just absence.
She ends the entry with one line.I don't want to lose him, but I'm afraid I already have.
My heartbeat picks up. I close the notebook and set it on the desk. "Thank you for writing it down."
"You're welcome." Her voice stays even, but her pupils slightly dilate. She presses her thighs together, then forces them apart again.
We sit with the tension. It hums between us, thick enough to taste, full of want and restraint.
She finally pins her sad, wide blue gaze on me and says, "Am I losing you, Red?"
"No."
She blinks hard, trying to keep control of her breath.
I break the boundary and move to the couch. I slide my arm around her and tug her into me. "How could you lose me when my body remembers every inch of yours. All I can think about is the way your back arches when I grip your hips, or how your breath hitches when my teeth graze your throat. And your shudder? Jesus Christ, Blue. Nothing's ever haunted me so much."
"Then why can't we eliminate this boundary? It's been long enough," she claims.
I stay quiet.
She looks down and takes a few long breaths. She murmurs, "You're hard, Dr. Mercer."
My throat tightens. I admit, "Yes."
Her lips part. "I could?—"
"No." The word comes out firmer than I intend. I soften it. "We're in session."
She closes her eyes, scrunching her face.
I put my hand on her chin. "Look at me, Bluebird."
She obeys.
I reiterate, "I'm dying to have you again."
"Then have me."
"I will when?—"
"I want your hands on me, Dr. Mercer. I want your mouth desperately tasting every inch of me. I want you inside me until neither of us can think. But more than that, I want to keep this." She gestures between us. "I want to keep showing up and not breaking the rules here. Because when I do, I don't hate myself afterward. But I want things to change when we're not in this office."
My throat tightens. I hold her gaze. "What we've built in this office is the hardest intimacy we've ever built."
"I know." Her voice cracks on the last word. "It's harder than sex. It's scarier. But stop avoiding the other part of what I'm asking from you."
My pulse throbs in my throat. "I'm not avoiding it."
She jumps off the couch, flings herself into my chair, and crosses her legs. She turns my notebook to a clean page and picks up the pen. "Let's reverse roles for a minute."
I arch my eyebrows.
"Humor me," she adds, then reaches over and flips the hourglass.
My chest tightens, but I agree. "Okay."
