Page 31 of For Her Own Good

“Does that feel all right? I know it doesn’t feel good, but hopefully less bad?”

I nod as much as I’m able and…I don’t know. I should be mortified by this and I am, but it also feels weirdly good. To have someone care for me, fuss over me, arrange my goddamn pillows so I’ll be as comfortable as possible. Makes me feel small and squishy and needy and full of wanting. Wanting to ask him to stay the night. Not because I have any reason to worry, but because I just fucking want someone here, okay?

Someone to get me some Tylenol, someone to bring me water, someone to brush the hair off my forehead and ask how I’m feeling. I want these things and I want them from Lowry, but I can’t bear to ask for them so all I do is roll my lips between my teeth.

* * *

Lowry

Christ, her eyes. And the way she’s clutching that fucking pillow. If only I could replace that pillow with my head. Give her something to focus on other than the pain. Perhaps by gathering up that pajama top until her breasts were exposed and then spending rather a lot of time with them. Licking, kneading, squeezing, suckling—figuring out what she likes.

Wouldn’t go any further than that because I wouldn’t want to hurt her. Could she come from that? I’d enjoy trying to make her. And if not, perhaps she’s got a vibrator in one of those bedside table drawers. I wouldn’t be able to fuck her to orgasm without causing the bad kind of pain, but I bet I could use one of her top-drawer friends to do the trick.

What does she look like when she comes?

That isn’t what I should be thinking about when I’m supposed to be getting her settled into bed after she’s been through a traumatic event. But the way she’s looking at me… I have got to get out of here. Because if I don’t leave now, I’ll try to talk my way into staying, and that’s not okay. Not tonight of all nights. She’s hurt, she’s vulnerable, it wouldn’t be right. Way more than it’s already not right, which is not an inconsiderable amount.

“I…I should be going. But can I get you anything before I leave? Something to eat? Glass of water?”

“My enemies encased in carbonite?”

The smile on her face is killer. Sweet and mischievous, it makes me not want to leave, but stay. Get on my knees beside her bed, take her face in my hands and kiss her silly. Thread my fingers through her hair close to her scalp and twist enough that she feels the pull. In my mind, she’d gasp but then melt, surrender to me, make little pleading noises, and Christ…

“If you like, though I’m sure in a couple of days you’ll be able to acquire those yourself.”

She rolls her eyes but I really do have that much faith in her.

“There is one thing.”

Please, God, let it be me. She needs me. Wants me to stay, wants me to be here for her today and always, trusts me to maybe not take all the pain away but make things as easy for her as they can be. I’m choked by all the things I wish she would say, and barely get out, “And what’s that?”

She wrenches her mouth to the side and her cheeks pink. “I can’t reach… Could you… The covers?”

Sweet mother Mary, the woman is being asked to be tucked in. Why this should send a flood of arousal through me… I don’t want to think too closely about that, because I suspect I know why but I don’t want to admit it. It dances too closely to something that makes me nauseated. Fuck.

My voice is probably overly gruff as I tell her, “Aye. Course.” I don’t mean for it to be, but my head is buzzing and I’m fighting off the urge to do far more than tuck her in. Not tonight, of course, because she’s hurt and I would never want to cause her pain. The bad kind of pain at any rate, because perhaps she’d like to be spanked. The way her leg is draped over the pillow makes the curve of her bottom so… What would it be like to take her over my knee? To have her glance over her shoulder, pleading look in her eyes, and promise to be a good girl. Why can I not get these ideas, these images out of my head when I’m around her?

Before my head explodes, I need to get out of here. Before I do, though, I finish pulling the covers over her, all the way up to her chin and she smiles when I do.

“Thank you.”

And then my hand, my goddamn hand, which seems to have a mind of its own or is perhaps more closely wired to the animal part of my brain that only thinks about what it wants and not about what’s wise, reaches out and runs through her hair. Her mouth opens, forms a near-perfect O, same as her wide eyes, and for a split second before I’m horrified at what I’ve done, it makes the desire so much worse. It’s as though it’s all I’m made of, all I have.

“Please do call Holden to be around if you need something. And if he’s not able…even if he is…I am, I am always here for you, and I expect you to call if you need me. I will be here, no questions asked. For anything. That’s not an offhand promise, and you know that, so please do take advantage, if you need.”

Shut up, you lovesick puppy masquerading as a responsible man.

“Good night, Starla.”

“Good night, Lowry.”

Somehow I make it out of her studio, down the hall, to the ground floor where I stumble out into the freezing night air, but even that doesn’t cut my lust. I don’t know that anything is capable of doing that.

But as I tell my patients over and over, it’s not about your feelings. Feelings are always valid. You’re permitted to feel however you do. What matters, though, is what youdowith those feelings. How you apply logic and empathy and the general rules that govern a so-called civilized society.Thatis what matters.

It is not my feelings for Starla, the impulses I have toward her, that are the problem. I’m just a man; I can’t help the things that spring from my imagination any more than any other human can. What I can do is protect her from those, keep them buried like unexploded munitions. Though as anyone who’s ever lived near a war zone can tell you, that ordnance is far from harmless and can detonate at any time.

The subway is stifling with the overworked heating of the HVAC. Perhaps it would have been better for me to walk home, even if it had taken hours. At least that way I would have exhausted myself, given myself something to focus on other than images of Starla from tonight. But no, they’re still vivid in my mind. And continue to be as I walk from my T stop to my building and until I walk through my door.

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