Page 6

“Answer me,” I said, my fingers trailing up her skin. She shuddered.

“Nothing. Are you going to leave now? You’ve overstayed your welcome. Next time, pay me if you want a fucking one-on-one therapy session,” she grumbled. “But, you probably can’t afford me.”

I blinked, a little surprised by the acid in her voice. She sounded more exasperated than afraid.

“You won’t stop talking even now?” Shaking my head, I yanked the knife back, and her body went lax in my hold.

“I’m paid to talk,” she whispered, pushing herself against me, her ass grinding into my cock.

What?

Much to my shame and confusion, my cock responded with more enthusiasm than I’d like to admit.

Fuck me.

A soft groan escaped her lips as she shifted again, rubbing against my growing erection. My breath hitched, and my brain short-circuited. For a moment, there were no thoughts in my head.

What the hell was happening here? Was this some kind of physical manipulation? Some bizarre psychiatrist Jedi mind trick to throw me off?

If she was trying to confuse me, she was succeeding.

I have to get away from her. NOW.

If I didn’t move, I’d explode and come all over her. Like a fucking sex-starved maniac. I was. It had been a while since I had sex. Committing yourself to an asylum wasn’t exactly good for your sex life.

“Pervert,” she whispered when I finally pulled back, even when I wanted to stay right there, her ass against my cock.

Cursing myself and Diya Sharma, I stormed out, rubbing a hand against my erect cock with a wince.

Heel, cock. Heel!

The fucking thing didn’t listen.

The cold wind bit into my skin, a sharp contrast to my burning body, as I made my way through the dense trees toward the back of the sanatorium. No one used this side of the asylum anymore, and it was the safest place to hide my belongings.

When I reached the small metal door at the back of the building, I pulled out Dr. Tomlinson’s key and unlocked it with a sigh.

Before I had the key, I had to pick the lock every damn time, but now, thanks to the doctor, sneaking in and out was a lot easier.

I moved toward my room, keeping an eye on the nurses’ stations. Most of them were empty by now like they usually were.

I knew this asylum’s routine like the back of my hand by now. I had spent five months locked up, learning the nooks and crannies, hidden hallways, and buried secrets.

Once safely inside my room, I locked the door and dropped onto the bed with a sigh.

It had been a long fucking night, and getting caught by my sexy, slightly insane psychiatrist? Yeah… that was definitely not part of the plan.

I hoped she would keep quiet and not stir up more trouble for me. I needed to finish what I had started eight years ago. I had been doing everything I could to be here since I found my best friend’s dead body.

Sighing, I closed my eyes, rubbing my temple, thinking about Diya Sharma.

What was her story?

She looked harmless, but no innocent person ran quite as far as she had.

She had worked at St. Anthony’s hospital in New York just before she came here. She was thriving at twenty-seven, and then out of nowhere, she quit her job and moved to Hollow Heights to hide in this asylum. This wasn't a wise choice or a great career decision.

Yes. There was a story there. I wasn’t curious before, but now I had to know. It was the only way to gain the upper hand.