Page 49 of Attraction & Repulsion

“No, I haven’t.”

“I’m very glad to hear that.” He paused for a second, analyzing her. Carson became even more nervous, wondering if this was the part Dave declares her crazy and puts her into a straitjacket. But all he said was, “I can see you’re very uncomfortable being here.”

Again, Carson made her leg stop twitching and shrugged.

“Tell me about that,” Dave continued.

“I don’t know if therapy will fix my problems,” Carson said, somewhat resolute. “I have nothing against therapy or therapists. I don’t think it’s a resource for me, though. I think that ultimately it is up to me to change. I shouldn’t rely on drugs or a therapist to change me.”

Dave tapped his pudgy finger against his chin. “You are correct, Carson. It is ultimately up to you to change. But sometimes people need a little help along the way. It seems that you are willing to give therapy a try. After a few weeks, you may determine that therapy is the tool you need to get better. Or you may choose to find another path.

“For now, I think it’s important to get a handle on your self-harm. Let’s talk about a safety plan.”

By the time Jax’s truck pulled into her driveway later that evening, Carson was lounging on the couch. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. Who knew going to therapy would be just as demanding as riding a dirt bike for hours on end?

Jax’s headlights disappeared as he pulled around back. They had left the counseling office at the same time. She had already driven home, changed, and put a frozen pizza in the oven. Where had he gone?

Within seconds, the side door opened, and Jax’s footsteps thudded through the kitchen. She sat up off the couch, about to ask him where he went, when the words got lost in her throat. Jax approached her with a large bouquet of flowers: ivory roses with splashes of baby’s breath, a stark contrast to the black tissue paper they were swaddled in.

“Oh, Jax, I love these,” Carson cooed, pressing her nose into the petals. They smelled better than the pizza currently cooking.

“Congratulations on surviving your first session of therapy.”

She laughed before stretching on her toes to give him a peck on the lips.

“I amsoproud of you,” he said gruffly.

“I’m proud of myself too. Though I feel like I just got my ass kicked.”

“I can only imagine what that was like for you. Thank you for being so honest and willing to try.”

“It wasn’t easy,” she whispered.

Jax kissed her forehead. “I know.”

When Carson moved to put the roses in water, Jax snatched her arm. “Where the hell do you think you’re going, Mr. Hoover?” he said, before leaning down and kissing her lips with so much vigor it caught her off guard. His hands found their way to her back, sliding under her shirt.

“The flowers,” Carson mumbled against his lips, concerned that his eagerness would damage their fragile bodies.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” Jax growled, now kissing her chin line.

His kisses and roving hands made Carson’s blood pulse throughout her body. “Let me at least set these down.” she said.

After an annoyed huff, Jax smashed his lips back onto hers. Before shecould complain again, he took the bouquet from her, slid his hand down to her thigh, and lifted her up. She tried to gasp, but he wouldn’t let her lips leave his. Afraid he was going to drop her, she hooked her ankles around his waist.

With the bundle of roses in one hand and Carson in the other, Jax walked into the kitchen. He sat the flowers on the counter, then spun her around. A cabinet opened, and glass clinked. They spun again. Carson heard the rush of the sink faucet filling a container and stems settling into a vase. He did all of this while kissing her.

It was moments like this that Carson appreciated his career choice. Years of training to naturally carry a person while having to do other impossible tasks made kissing him that much more enjoyable.

Now he was taking her somewhere. She didn’t care where. Her mind was wrapped around the way his tongue mingled with hers. How his breath tasted of fresh peppermint, like the flavor of gum always resting in the cupholder of his truck. How the hat he wore was in the way of her fingers trying to run through his hair. Grabbing the bill, she tossed it aside blindly.

Soon, Jax lowered himself onto Carson’s bed. Now she was in his lap with her legs on either side of him. She wanted to be closer to him. Needed to be closer to him. There was too much fabric. Breaking their kiss, she ripped her shirt off over her head and threw it on the floor. His hands slid up and down her back leaving fire in their wake.

“There’s food in the oven,” she warned, remembering the pizza.

“Then we better be fast.”

Then he lay back, taking her with him, and rolled until he was on top, continuing to kiss down her chest. Deliberately, Jax’s lips became less forceful and more delicate until he was only pushing them on specific parts of her abdomen. With a quick glance, Carson saw he was inspecting hertorso. Every few seconds, he would kiss a random spot on her stomach. Her heart squeezed when she realized he was kissing her scars. The distress on his face was clear as he digested each and every one of the lines scattered all over her ribcage, stomach, and hips.

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