Then, we’re both facing each other in my partially lit hallway. She leans against one wall, arms folded over her chest, and I lean against the other.
“Look, I know you were trying to do a nice thing, Leandro…but I’m your therapist. It would be wrong of me to accept your gift.”
I can tell that some of her anger has dissipated, but it’s still there, simmering beneath that hot skin of hers.
Part of me wants to make her angry again. I like angry India. She is sexy as hell.
“I didn’t buy it for you. I bought it for Jett.”
“And Jett is my son. It would be”—she runs her hand through her hair, letting out a sigh—“unethical to keep it.”
That word explodes in my head. “Jesus Christ! I’m so fucking sick of hearing that word! It was a gift, India. Accept it. Don’t. I really don’t care. But stop throwing the unethical-therapist bullshit in my face! You say this, me buying a gift, is unethical. That barely scratches the surface of the unethical things I want to do to you.”
I hear her sharp intake of breath. It is like a soft palm over my cock.
Her eyes fill with lust again, her full red lips parting.
God, I want to kiss her. Fuck her…
I move off the wall, taking a step toward her. “Right now, I want to get down on my knees, pull off your panties, and show you just how unethical my tongue can be.”
“Y-you can’t say things like that to me,” she stammers.
“No?” I cock my head to the side as I take another step toward her. “So, you don’t want me to make you come with my unethical tongue or fuck you with my unethically hard cock? Because it is hard, India. Really fucking hard because of you…for you.” I palm my dick through my pajama pants.
Her eyes go to my hand, watching me touch myself. “N-no.” Her voice sounds weak, inefficient.
I know she doesn’t mean it.
“Liar.” I take another step. “You want me as much as I want you. You’re just afraid to admit it because of the bullshit reasons you’ve built up in your head.”
She says nothing.
I take her silence as an invitation.
I move forward the final step and press my body against hers. She feels amazing.
She’s trembling. It gives me a sense of tremendous power.
I trace my fingers over her cheek. “You’re so fucking beautiful, India. Eu quero você.”
She closes her eyes, and I don’t hesitate another second. I take what I want and capture her mouth with mine.
Her lips part over mine on a breathy moan, and I take advantage to kiss her deeper, sliding my tongue against hers.
She’s not touching me yet, but I don’t care. She’s kissing me back, and right now, that’s all that matters.
I slip my hands around her tiny waist, pulling her into me, as I press my leg between hers.
She parts her legs on a groan, accepting me, and her arms come around my neck. She kisses me back, hard. And that’s when the kiss gets wet and crazy.
Hands on her ass, I lift her off the floor, pressing her back into the wall.
My cock is rock-hard and nestled up against her heat. I can feel her wetness through my pajama pants, and it’s driving me fucking wild.
I kiss her recklessly, like I’ve wanted to since the moment I met her.
Her fingers have threaded up into my hair, and she’s tugging on it as she sucks on my tongue.
I can’t wait to feel these lips around my cock.
And she tastes fucking amazing, sweet. But I bet her pussy tastes even sweeter.
I need to taste her. Then, I’m going to spend the rest of the night buried inside her.
“I’m going to fuck you all night long, India.”
I feel her body freeze. Then, “Stop,” she pants, her hand pressed against my chest. “We have to stop.”
What? No.
She pushes against me as she loosens her legs from around my waist, giving me no choice but to release her, letting her feet drop to the floor.
Sliding along the wall, she backs away from me, putting an unwelcome distance between us.
Her lips are swollen from my kiss, her red lipstick smeared. Her hair is all ruffled, chest flushed with desire. I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. And it’s being dampened by the fact that I know she’s leaving before we’ve even begun.
I’ve never felt more frustrated or at a loss for what to do.
“India—”
“No, Leandro. I’m a doctor…a therapist. I made an oath—shit…” Her eyes fill with tears.
The sight actually rips into me.
“India…please…” I reach for her, but she steps back.
“No.” She takes a deep breath. “This”—she lifts a hand between us—“can’t happen…ever again.”
Then, she’s fleeing from my house, getting in her car. Ignoring my pleas for her to stay, she drives away from me.
And I stand here wondering if I had never spoken a word, broken the moment, whether she would have let it go all the way, if she would have let me have her.
OH GOD.
I cover my face with my hands.
What have I done?
How could I let that happen?
But he was all wet from the shower, he smelled so good, his chest was bare, showing a sexy smattering of dark hair, and he had a six-pack and the V.
The V!
And he spoke to me in Portuguese.
Portuguese!
How the hell was I supposed to resist that?
It takes me the whole drive home to calm down and a lot of willpower to not turn around and go back there to let him finish what he started. In a daze, I’m still not myself when I get home.
Kit knows something is wrong with me.
Jett’s not talking to me because I said the kart has to go back.
And I kissed Leandro Silva.
I kissed a patient.
Oh God.
I let my head drop with a thud on the kitchen table. I hear Kit’s soft laugh as he enters the kitchen.
“Wine?” he asks.
“Whiskey,” I reply.
“Uh-oh. Must be bad if you’re breaking out the whiskey.”
I lift my head to see him pulling our emergency bottle of Jack from the cupboard along with two glasses.
Sitting on the chair across from mine, he pours whiskey in the two glasses and pushes one over to me. I pick it up and immediately down it, relishing the burn in my throat.
He laughs. Picking up the bottle, he pours me another. “You want to talk about it?”
I meet his gaze. “I messed up, Kit. Big time.”
“The last time you said that to me, you were pregnant with Jett, and that turned out okay.” He points to the ceiling, gesturing to Jett’s room situated above the kitchen. “More than okay, despite the bumpy road that came with it.”
He’s referring to Jett’s father. The only thing I have to be thankful to that man for is the beautiful boy upstairs.
“Don’t you mean, mountainous hazard road that came with it?”
He lets out a low chuckle. “Look, whatever it is, Indy, it can’t be anything worse than what we’ve already been through. And you know you can tell me anything. No judgment.”
“I kissed Leandro Silva. Well, I let him kiss me, and then I kissed him back.”
“And the problem is…Dr. Dull?” he asks, lifting his glass to his lips.
“Look, I know you were trying to do a nice thing, Leandro…but I’m your therapist. It would be wrong of me to accept your gift.”
I can tell that some of her anger has dissipated, but it’s still there, simmering beneath that hot skin of hers.
Part of me wants to make her angry again. I like angry India. She is sexy as hell.
“I didn’t buy it for you. I bought it for Jett.”
“And Jett is my son. It would be”—she runs her hand through her hair, letting out a sigh—“unethical to keep it.”
That word explodes in my head. “Jesus Christ! I’m so fucking sick of hearing that word! It was a gift, India. Accept it. Don’t. I really don’t care. But stop throwing the unethical-therapist bullshit in my face! You say this, me buying a gift, is unethical. That barely scratches the surface of the unethical things I want to do to you.”
I hear her sharp intake of breath. It is like a soft palm over my cock.
Her eyes fill with lust again, her full red lips parting.
God, I want to kiss her. Fuck her…
I move off the wall, taking a step toward her. “Right now, I want to get down on my knees, pull off your panties, and show you just how unethical my tongue can be.”
“Y-you can’t say things like that to me,” she stammers.
“No?” I cock my head to the side as I take another step toward her. “So, you don’t want me to make you come with my unethical tongue or fuck you with my unethically hard cock? Because it is hard, India. Really fucking hard because of you…for you.” I palm my dick through my pajama pants.
Her eyes go to my hand, watching me touch myself. “N-no.” Her voice sounds weak, inefficient.
I know she doesn’t mean it.
“Liar.” I take another step. “You want me as much as I want you. You’re just afraid to admit it because of the bullshit reasons you’ve built up in your head.”
She says nothing.
I take her silence as an invitation.
I move forward the final step and press my body against hers. She feels amazing.
She’s trembling. It gives me a sense of tremendous power.
I trace my fingers over her cheek. “You’re so fucking beautiful, India. Eu quero você.”
She closes her eyes, and I don’t hesitate another second. I take what I want and capture her mouth with mine.
Her lips part over mine on a breathy moan, and I take advantage to kiss her deeper, sliding my tongue against hers.
She’s not touching me yet, but I don’t care. She’s kissing me back, and right now, that’s all that matters.
I slip my hands around her tiny waist, pulling her into me, as I press my leg between hers.
She parts her legs on a groan, accepting me, and her arms come around my neck. She kisses me back, hard. And that’s when the kiss gets wet and crazy.
Hands on her ass, I lift her off the floor, pressing her back into the wall.
My cock is rock-hard and nestled up against her heat. I can feel her wetness through my pajama pants, and it’s driving me fucking wild.
I kiss her recklessly, like I’ve wanted to since the moment I met her.
Her fingers have threaded up into my hair, and she’s tugging on it as she sucks on my tongue.
I can’t wait to feel these lips around my cock.
And she tastes fucking amazing, sweet. But I bet her pussy tastes even sweeter.
I need to taste her. Then, I’m going to spend the rest of the night buried inside her.
“I’m going to fuck you all night long, India.”
I feel her body freeze. Then, “Stop,” she pants, her hand pressed against my chest. “We have to stop.”
What? No.
She pushes against me as she loosens her legs from around my waist, giving me no choice but to release her, letting her feet drop to the floor.
Sliding along the wall, she backs away from me, putting an unwelcome distance between us.
Her lips are swollen from my kiss, her red lipstick smeared. Her hair is all ruffled, chest flushed with desire. I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. And it’s being dampened by the fact that I know she’s leaving before we’ve even begun.
I’ve never felt more frustrated or at a loss for what to do.
“India—”
“No, Leandro. I’m a doctor…a therapist. I made an oath—shit…” Her eyes fill with tears.
The sight actually rips into me.
“India…please…” I reach for her, but she steps back.
“No.” She takes a deep breath. “This”—she lifts a hand between us—“can’t happen…ever again.”
Then, she’s fleeing from my house, getting in her car. Ignoring my pleas for her to stay, she drives away from me.
And I stand here wondering if I had never spoken a word, broken the moment, whether she would have let it go all the way, if she would have let me have her.
OH GOD.
I cover my face with my hands.
What have I done?
How could I let that happen?
But he was all wet from the shower, he smelled so good, his chest was bare, showing a sexy smattering of dark hair, and he had a six-pack and the V.
The V!
And he spoke to me in Portuguese.
Portuguese!
How the hell was I supposed to resist that?
It takes me the whole drive home to calm down and a lot of willpower to not turn around and go back there to let him finish what he started. In a daze, I’m still not myself when I get home.
Kit knows something is wrong with me.
Jett’s not talking to me because I said the kart has to go back.
And I kissed Leandro Silva.
I kissed a patient.
Oh God.
I let my head drop with a thud on the kitchen table. I hear Kit’s soft laugh as he enters the kitchen.
“Wine?” he asks.
“Whiskey,” I reply.
“Uh-oh. Must be bad if you’re breaking out the whiskey.”
I lift my head to see him pulling our emergency bottle of Jack from the cupboard along with two glasses.
Sitting on the chair across from mine, he pours whiskey in the two glasses and pushes one over to me. I pick it up and immediately down it, relishing the burn in my throat.
He laughs. Picking up the bottle, he pours me another. “You want to talk about it?”
I meet his gaze. “I messed up, Kit. Big time.”
“The last time you said that to me, you were pregnant with Jett, and that turned out okay.” He points to the ceiling, gesturing to Jett’s room situated above the kitchen. “More than okay, despite the bumpy road that came with it.”
He’s referring to Jett’s father. The only thing I have to be thankful to that man for is the beautiful boy upstairs.
“Don’t you mean, mountainous hazard road that came with it?”
He lets out a low chuckle. “Look, whatever it is, Indy, it can’t be anything worse than what we’ve already been through. And you know you can tell me anything. No judgment.”
“I kissed Leandro Silva. Well, I let him kiss me, and then I kissed him back.”
“And the problem is…Dr. Dull?” he asks, lifting his glass to his lips.
