“You’re fucking insane!”
“I was just concerned about one of my staff. I understand your problem…”
“My problem? What problem?”
His lips lifted higher and a small chuckle echoed tauntingly from him. Reaching into his desk drawer he pulled out a file and slid it across the desk to me. Vomit rolled up my throat and I struggled to breathe when a stack of papers with my current photograph and one aged nine, my broken and beaten face mocking me, attached by a paperclip, stared up at me. Behind the pictures were three or four psych assessments with the word ‘Confidential’ struck through in red letters. Behind that three or four newspaper articles and various medical reports.
“You bastard.”
He scoffed. “I do also think it quite concerning that you chose to deal with your past by means of food dependency, Kloe. It is obvious you’re physiologically marred, and that does raise some concerns when you’re working closely with emotionally repressed individuals.”
“Why?” I asked quietly. I wanted to cry but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
He frowned dramatically. “I’m just showing concern…”
“Don’t!” I hissed. “Just don’t.”
His laugh followed me after I slammed his office door shut behind me, all the way into the bathrooms while I vomited, my heart sliding up my throat and flushing away with the remnants of my breakfast.
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON WHEN I emerged back in Anderson’s room.
He was nowhere to be seen but the TV played softly in the background, the dreary day making the room dim, the only light coming from a quiz show Anderson had been watching. His reading book sat open on the desk and a beaker of lemonade fizzled quietly.
Turning around when I heard the bathroom door open, my heart leapt up my throat when Anderson stepped out wearing nothing but a white towel around his hips. His long hair was damp, falling in strands over his shoulders and for the first time his beard had gone, just a light dusting of stubble now covering his square chin. Rivulets of water trailed down his bare chest, my eyes following them down the trim line of hair until they disappeared into the wrap of towelling. His body was still thin, his hip bones prominent and his ribcage noticeable but now his stomach muscles were more formed.
“You’ve been working out.”
A small smile touched his lips, glad that I’d noticed, and he nodded. “Yeah. Night time in the gym is the best. It’s just me and the music.”
Seven Oaks was good for him. Its many facilities and different therapies had seen him come on in leaps and bounds in the last few weeks.
However, his scars still haunted me, many rows of silver lines revealing just how hard his life had been. And it would take more than the gym and reading books to mend those.
Unable to control myself, I walked towards him.
He sucked in a breath when I slowly brought my fingers up to the streaks that were evidence of the evil he had suffered. He watched me closely, his chest heaving with his heavy breaths as I drew the tip of my finger over each one.
“Every sentence you read,” I whispered, my gaze mesmerised by each scar as I stroked along every one. “Every word you speak. Every mile on the treadmill, and every horrific thing that happened to you that you voice heal each welt little by little.”
He didn’t say a word but his eyes screamed every thought in his head.
Taking my hand in his he brought it up to his left pectoral muscle and pressed it against his skin. My eyes reached his face and I gasped at the sheer look of need that stared back at me.
“And every one of your smiles, the sound of your soft laugh, the way your brilliant blue eyes watch me,” he whispered back, “heal this little by little.”
I could feel the thud of his heart under my palm when he slid my hand lower, the bang, bang, bang of desire that echoed in his eyes.
He locked me in that stare of his as he dropped his hand from mine. I kept it pressed against him, the quickening beat of his heart hypnotising me.
My breath caught when his fingers slid one button on my blouse through its hole. And then another. And another. Until his hand slid inside the soft cotton and moved the material aside, the cool air making my nipples pebble against the lace of my bra.
My head was screaming at me to stop him. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. And I didn’t want to.
“You’re so beautiful.” I hadn’t realised he’d dropped my gaze until his words brought my eyes back in to focus.
My lips parted and my eyes slid closed when he ran the tip of a finger across the top of my breast, his gentle touch making my stomach heavy with need.
“Anderson,” I warned. But it was no more of a warning than a plea. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was. Yet it felt so right, his touch making me feel more alive than anything ever had. My heart beat harder than it ever had and the desire that ran through every one of my veins scorched me with a fire I’d never experienced.
“Open your eyes, Kloe.”
I did as he bid, peeling open my heavy eyelids.
His eyes roamed over my face as his fingers cupped my full breast, his hand lifting and caressing softly. He studied my face as he brought his other hand to my other breast and pinched my nipple through the material of my bra.
My eyes were closing again; the pleasure he was bringing me with such a small touch making me press myself into him.
“Let me kiss you, Kloe. Please.” He was begging, with his voice, his eyes, his touch. Every part of him pleaded with me to give him what he so very much wanted.
“I…”
He didn’t wait for my permission. Instead he crushed his mouth to mine, halting my words – and my thoughts. A soft groan rumbled from him when I opened for him. I couldn’t have refused him any more than I could have refused myself.
His kiss was gentle, his lips soft as they moved over mine. One hand moved from my breast and disappeared into my hair, taking it and wrapping it around his fist as he pulled my head further back. Deepening the kiss, his tongue slid against mine, twisting and caressing hungrily like he was starved of every single sense except touch and taste.
My hands found his hair and I took a thick strand and tugged, giving him the pain I knew he needed. His moan turned to a growl and before I could take a much needed breath my back was flung onto his bed and his body completely pinned me under him.
His kiss grew frenzied, his touch firmer as he tried to devour every part of me. His erection pressed into my hip when the towel he wore fell open.
Shit. Fuck.
I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t make it stop. Morality screamed at me, my conscience almost weeping. He was my patient, under my care. Yet my body wanted him with an urgency that overpowered any rational thoughts begging for a hearing.
His cock was hard as I wrapped my fingers around the thick girth. He was cut and the shock of that made me rear back.
Anderson looked pained but his hips rocked, forcing himself in and out of my hand.
“I want…” He looked away from me as he shook his head. “I want… but I…”
“Anderson? What is it?”
Shame covered his face and he looked down at me. Softly tracing my cheekbone with his thumb, he closed his eyes when his cheeks flamed red. “I want to, with you. But I’ve never…”