Page 17 of Unethical

Beep, beep, beep.

I force myself to walk normally as I step into her office. The pain grinds my kneecap, and I try to pretend it doesn’t as I force the joint to work as it should. I release a breath as I sit down on the couch without drawing her gaze, but I’m not sure she’d have noticed me if I had limped in. She’s staring off into space.

Did I do that to her?

I clear my throat, and she finally looks at me. “Maxim,” she whispers, reaching back to grab her notepad and pen. She sets them on her lap and stares at the blank pages without looking up at me.

Yeah, I did this.

Selfishly.

Unapologetically.

She’s lost in a tortured mind, and maybe it’s poetic justice. Maybe she’s getting a taste of what it’s like. Instead of analyzing the damaged goods, she’s received a little damage herself. Trauma has been forced upon her, and she just has to endure it and somehow function normally in life.

“What do you want to talk about?” I ask.

She doesn’t respond.

I smirk and lower my voice. “I killed them all.”

She still doesn’t react to my confession.

“I pushed my brother into the well.”

Nothing. She’s absolutely lost in her head.

Against the pain, I get up and move toward her. She jumps when I tower over her.

“What’s the matter, doc? You missed everything I said. I thought that’s what you’ve always wanted from me.”

“What’d you say?” she asks, swiping her sweat-damp hair from her cheek as she’s thrust into the current moment. She still avoids my gaze, but at least she’s listening.

“It’s too late, doc. I’m not repeating myself. You missed some doozies, though.”

I clear my throat, and she jolts. She’s so jumpy. Scared. I did that. I fucking did it.

And I’ll undo it.

The only way to fix the trauma I caused her is to show her there’s nothing to fear from me. Not like that, at least. But if I admit I was the masked man who made her come, she’ll run. Not only will she run, but she’ll get away because of my bum fucking knee.

I’ll have to tell her eventually, but it won’t be today. Instead, I inhale her scent and allow the memories to flood back to me. How her pussy squeezed and spasmed around my fingers as she came. How pretty her little cunt was. Her moan and the scream that came from those plump lips as her body betrayed her.

I take a step to the side so the back of her chair can hide my erection. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“It’s not appropriate to?—”

“Do you think I care about what’s appropriate?”

She swallows. “I was assaulted yesterday, Maxim. And I don’t want you near me like this,” she says, gaining her voice and raising her chest at me. I notice each subtle movement of her body.

My hand goes to her chin, and she jumps as I grip it. I move her head from one side to the other. “Where were you hurt?” I ask, though I know I didn’t hurt her. I did the opposite of hurting her. I pleased her until she came around my fingers.

Her cheeks flush, and she grabs my wrist and tries to pull my hand away from her face. “Let go of me. You can’t see where he hurt me.”

Trying not to favor my leg, I stroll around the chair and end up in front of her. I lean down, not caring about my obvious erection now.

Her eyes focus on it. She opens her mouth to say something, but I speak first.

---