“Sure,” he said, leading the way to his truck. The poor guy seemed out of his element with her. During their sessions, he always seemed so confident, but tonight he was acting like a nervous wreck.
She looked his truck over and then smiled at him. “You’re going to have to help me up into your truck,” she said, “I’m afraid that in this dress, I don’t have much mobility.” The idea of Rocco having to put his hands on her body to help her get up into his truck made her hot in all the right places.
“Oh, sure,” he said. “Um, how do you want to do this?” he asked.
“Just put your hands on my hips and help me up to the seat,” she ordered.
He did as she asked, putting his hands on her hips, and paused. “You know, you’re a lot bossier now than you ever were in our sessions.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to talk about her bossiness or the fact that his having his hands on her was turning her on. She usually didn’t react to men the way that she did with Rocco, but that was the problem with her being histherapist. Her body seemed to crave the sexy boxer, and there was nothing that she could do to stop it.
“I’m aware,” she breathed. “I have five brothers, and my mother died when I was only seven, so I had to become a little bossy.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t describe you as a little bossy,” he teased. “Ready?” he asked. She had lost her train of thought from his hands staying on her hips while they had a conversation.
“Ready for what?” she whispered, leaning into his big body.
He chuckled, “Ready for me to help you into my truck?” he asked.
“Oh, um, yes,” she said, trying to regain some composure. He practically lifted her into the passenger seat, and when he shut her door, she took a few seconds to get her act together. Although she had a feeling that it would never happen around Rocco. He seemed able to make her forget her own name with just one touch, and Luna wasn’t sure how she was going to get through a whole evening with him, let alone one meal.
ROCCO
Tony and Luca liked to give him shit about everything, and once they found out about him going out on a date with his therapist, they kicked it into high gear. They seemed to enjoy taking turns asking him questions about doctor/patient confidentiality, and honestly, he had no answers for them. He wasn’t sure if taking Luna on a date was ethical or not, but a part of him didn’t give a fuck. She had turned his file over to her boss, Gia, who had reached out to him just that morning. She introduced herself and said that she was going to be his new therapist, and that worked for him. Although getting to know a new therapist was a pain in the ass. He hoped that they wouldn’t have to repeat all the work that he had already done with Luna. Starting back at step one would only dredge up shit that he didn’t want to remember. He had already done all of that, and now he was ready to move forward.
He was nervous as hell when he was getting ready for their date. He had to admit, it was hot the way that Luna took charge and asked him out. She didn’t give him the option to turn her down, not that he would have. If he was being honest with himself,he had developed feelings for Luna months ago; he was just too embarrassed to say anything to her. Patients probably fell in love with their therapists all the time, right? He didn’t want to tell her how he was feeling, only to be rejected, so he kept all that shit bottled up inside him.
And now, here he was, standing in front of her apartment door like some nervous kid on his first date, second-guessing everything from his shirt to whether or not he should’ve brought flowers. He hadn’t brought her anything because what the hell did you bring your therapist on a first date?
Nothing about this felt normal, and yet it felt completely right—too right. The door opened, and every coherent thought in his head went straight to hell. Luna stood there in a black dress, all curves and confidence, her dark hair falling over her shoulders, her lips slightly parted like she’d been waiting for him. “Wow,” he breathed, because apparently his vocabulary had been reduced to one damn word around her. She twirled, smiling, and something in his chest tightened hard enough to hurt. Yeah—he was in trouble, deep fucking trouble.
“You look beautiful,” he breathed, trying to make more than one-word sentences.
“Thanks, you look pretty great yourself,” she said, looking him over, and he was suddenly relieved that he had gone with his sports jacket, instead of just tossing on a t-shirt. He lived in his gym clothes, but tonight, he decided to get dressed up and put his best foot forward.
The drive to the restaurant was quiet, but not awkward—not exactly. Every time her bare leg brushed his hand when he shifted gears, every time she laughed at something stupid that he said, every time he caught her watching him when she thoughthe wasn’t looking—it all built, layer by layer, like pressure under his skin. By the time he pulled into the parking lot, his jaw was tight, his hands flexing on the steering wheel, and he was overthinking every little detail of their date.
“Fancy,” she teased, looking up at the place. It wasn’t over the top, but it wasn’t a dive either. When he was thinking about where he wanted to take her for dinner, he decided to go somewhere in between.
“I didn’t know what you’d like,” he admitted. “I hope this is okay.”
Luna turned toward him, one brow lifting. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who second-guesses himself, Rocco.”
He huffed out a quiet laugh. “You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who lets a man take the lead, so I was kind of nervous about picking a place for us to eat. You’re not very easy to figure out.”
Her smile was slow and dangerous. “Maybe I like watching you try to figure me out.” Fuck. Yeah, he was definitely in trouble.
“Wait here,” he said as he got out of the truck and came around to her side, opening the door before she could even reach for the handle. Old habits die hard. Respect was drilled into him long before the military ever got its hands on him. His father made sure that he knew how to treat a woman before he could even tie his own shoelaces.
She held his gaze as he helped her down from his truck, his hands landing on her hips again. Her breath hitched, just slightly, but he caught it. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice lower than before, allowing his hands to flex against her body.
“I’m always careful,” she shot back, but there was something softer in her tone now—something real.
Inside, they were seated quickly at a small table that sat in the corner of the restaurant. It was almost too small for both of them. Their knees brushed under it almost immediately, but neither of them moved.
“So,” Luna said, picking up her menu but not looking at it, “are you going to interrogate me now that I’m not your therapist?”
He leaned back slightly, studying her. “Depends,” he breathed. “Are you going to charge me by the hour or by the question?”
She laughed, and that sound did something to him—something dangerous. “Neither,” she said. “Tonight, I’m just Luna, and can answer any question you have for me, free of charge.” He thought of her as just Luna—like their going on a date together was something simple.
