Page 79 of Look, Don't Touch

“The wall. The hurt. The camouflage you hide so carefully behind. At first, I was envious that you were able to hide it so well, and then I was hell-bent on knowing what hurt you so deeply. Then I was obsessed with simply knowing you. Only, it wasn’t so simple. While I don’t touch people, you don’t see people. Sure, you see your patients, but you don’t see men who could ever possibly get close to you.”

Her head jerks as though I’ve slapped her, but there’s nowhere for her to go.

“I tried talking to you that night, but you wouldn’t have anything to do with me. Not even my attempt at an apology. So I decided to become your patient and make you see me. Of course, it took me a long time to work up the courage to do it.”

“But Crave?”

“Crave had been my outlet for years. My only outlet besides boxing. I didn’t plan that part, though I can’t say I wouldn’t have.” I shrug. “It seems we’re drawn to each other, whether we want to be or not.”

Her mouth hangs open. No words come out.

My lips press a kiss to her forehead, and I ease back.

“The next time I’m inside you, it won’t be because we’re looking for a quick fix at Crave. It won’t be because you’re my surrogate or my therapist. It’s not going to be because you're trying to help me. It will be because you’re mine, and I am yours.”

I dig as fucking deep as I ever have and push myself off her stunning body. I pause at the foot of her bed. “I’m already yours, Hailey. Every mangled part of me.” Then I turn and walk out of her apartment while I still can.

“Your five o’clock has arrived.” Nat’s voice fills my office through the intercom.

My head jerks up from my bag, where I’d been stuffing my files in hopes that they’d keep me company tonight. Knowing I’ll ignore them and stare out at the city, wondering what the fuck is wrong with me, instead.

“I don’t have a five on Wednesdays.”

“Look at your calendar.”

I pull a lungful of air into my chest, hold it, and navigate to my calendar. I let it out in a rush. “New client? I’m not taking new clients.” The last one didn’t work out too well.

“They’re here,” she whispers. “Do you want me to send them away?”

Who the fuck are they? I don’t even have an intake form for them or a file or a background check. I never go into a couple’s session without extensive backgrounds on both. The fastest way to die is getting between the wrong couple.

I should know.

“Yes.”

This is what I get for moping around the last two days and not paying attention to the important things. Like my patients. Like my aunt who finally decided to come back from France. Like my general health and well-being.

No, I’ve spent every waking and sleeping moment thinking about Arlo’s eyes, Arlo’s lips, Arlo’s cock, Arlo’s arms, Arlo’s fingers, Arlo’s words. Arlo’s fucking words.

“Sorry, I can’t.” Nat chirps. “They’re headed in.”

Before I can voice my outrage, my door swings open. Natalia and Astor charge into my office in stunning outfits with perfectly fixed hair and makeup. While I cower behind my desk, looking like something Plinko coughed up.

They sit in the wooden chairs on the opposite side of my desk and study me.

“What is going on?” My voice is shrill.

“That’s what we’d like to know,” Astor counters.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re a shit liar.” Nat rubs a finger along the edge of her perfectly etched lipstick. “As a kid, you were terrible at it. As an adult, somehow, you’re worse. Your mom was a shit liar too.”

“Please, don’t talk about her.”

“Why not?” Nat pushes back, which is unusual for her. “I should talk about my sister more than I do.” She crosses her legs and relaxes back into the chair. “She was my best friend for almost thirty years. I talked to her every day. I confessed my deepest, darkest secrets, hopes, and dreams to her. She gave hers to me until she felt like she couldn’t.” Her lips purse. “I’m pissed at her for not trusting me with her worst secret, but I have to forgive her. It’s time for both of us to forgive her and continue our lives.”

“Haven’t we been?” There’s a screech in my throat. I hate it. It shows too much. Still, I push ahead, knowing I’m wrong. “You’re a world-renowned model and the best aunt a girl could ever want.” A tear slips from my eyes. “And I’m a successful psychologist with a great best friend.”

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