Page 21 of Unethical

“So you’re telling me someone came into your room and put his mouth on you? That’s not a stalker, baby, that’s a boyfriend.”

“There’s this thing called consent, Maxim.”

“Did you tell him you didn’t want it? Better yet,didyou want it?”

Her lips tighten. “God, why would I expect you to understand why I’m upset? I was crying because I’m frustrated. Because I know no one will believe me! Not even a criminal like you believes me.”

Ouch, doc. “No, I believe you. I just think you’re being a little overdramatic about it.”

“This man put his fingers inside me. He put his mouth on me! It’s assault!”

I love hearing that my fingers were the reason she was upset the first time. I can’t help but wonder how much more upset she’d be if her masked stalker took her sweet little needy cunt next.

“You’re right, doc.” I stand up and step toward her. Placing my hands on the arms of the chair, I lean closer. “I’m sorry.”

She looks up into my face, and for the first time, I don’t see fear. I see defeat. So why don’t I feel good about it?

“It’s fine. I don’t expect you to give a shit about anyone else. But I’ve answered the question, so now it’s your turn. Why did you kill your foster parents?”

Sarah is wrong. I do care about her. I’m obsessed with her. I know what I do to her is wrong, but it’s the only thing right for me now. Ineedto touch her.Needto please her. I care about what’s happening to her, but I can’t stop. My selfish desires override my emotions, and I intend on taking it to the point of no return. And then I’ll have to disappear, because she can’t find out it was me.

“Well?” she asks, pushing the question.

“I killed my foster parents because they were abusive pricks who didn’t deserve to draw air.”

“In what ways were they abusive?”

I shake my head. “Back and forth, remember? Answer my earlier question. When that man put his mouth on you, did you want it? Did you come on his tongue?”

Anger simmers through her veins, making her cheeks flush. I’m so close that I can feel the heat rising from her skin. “Get the fuck out of my office, you sadistic asshole! You like getting a rise out of me, don’t you? You?—”

Her fire-soaked lips are so close to mine, and she’s throwing every heated syllable right at me. I’m tethered to those lips, and the string pulls taut. I lean into them and burn from the heat of her anger.

Her lips begin to move, but then she stops and pulls her head away. “Maxim, no,” she says, the sternness filling the space between those two words.

I don’t want her to realize that the man she’s crying over and the man attached to her face are the same, so I pull away.

“Sorry,” I say. “I read the room wrong.”

“What about any of this said to kiss me?” she snaps, wiping me off her lips as if I’m dirty. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Then she gazes up at me and something very unexpected happens. She leans forward and kisses me back.

Chapter Eighteen

Sarah

Istand in my kitchen and absently stir noodles as my tormented mind circles, dissects, and lays bare the most insane thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.

I. Fucking. Kissed. Maxim.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to the mouth of an absolute sociopath. My client. And this wasafterhe came clean about committing murder. Why did I do that?

I have no idea, and I can’t begin to psychoanalyze myself right now. We had a moment. A singular moment where I forgot who he was and who he was to me. I’m his fuckingtherapist.

But when he was standing there, his eyes boring into my soul and his warm lips still a recent memory of mine, I could only think of how he looked in front of me. How he stole a kiss from me first. Ilikedfeeling wanted, just like I did on the trail behind my house. And in my bed. Maxim was present in a weak moment, that’s all. That’s it.

Right?

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