Page 143 of Texting Dr. Stalker

“I am.” She swung the eye mask around on its silk ribbons. “With the way the beads mould, I swear I won’t be able to see anything. I’ll wear it the entire time you eat. I promise I won’t remove it until you say I can. Once you’ve enjoyed your thank-you gift, you don’t have to rush away. We can talk or listen to music or…make out.”

And there it was.

My limit.

I finally found the point where I turned into an asshole.

Snatching the eye mask, I stepped into her personal space. “Turn around.”

She swallowed hard, her blue gaze flaring before she nodded and obeyed.

Reaching around her, I positioned the butterfly wings above her nose and rasped, “Hold it over your eyes.”

Without a word, she did as she was told, gently pressing the beads to form a barrier over her sight. Once she found a comfortable shape, I tied a knot at the back of her head. My hands shook as I spun her around to face me. She swayed a little; my fingers dug into her shoulders, keeping her still.

Vestiges of the doctor who would never put someone’s mental health at risk for his own gain had to ask, “Are you okay? Is this alright? You sure this isn’t too much, too soon?”

Licking her lips—her tongue driving me motherfucking crazy—she nodded. “I’m okay. I trust you.”

I caught her chin and held her all while my heart pounded so fast my blood turned to ash. “You really shouldn’t.”

She trembled a little and placed a hand over my thundering heart. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Not intentionally, no.”

“And it’s because of that honesty that I know you won’t hurt me, evenunintentionally.”

I nudged her nose with mine. “It’s inevitable if we keep doing this.” My mask blocked our skin from touching. Fear about removing it clenched my gut. What if she could see? What if this was a ruse and I was falling for it, all because I couldn’t fight her anymore?

“I should walk out that door and never see you again,” I grunted, grazing my mouth over hers, the cotton keeping us chaste.

“You could…” She sucked in a breath at how close I was. “But I’d really rather you stayed.”

“Because you think there’s a debt between us?”

“Because you helped me, and I want to help you.”

Help.

God that word could mean so much.

My head swam. My self-control quickly eroded with every chug of my pulse. With her willingly blinded and surrendered and trusting andmine…the pieces of me that clung to right and wrong, good over bad, cracked, broke, and shattered.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed just as my hands locked around her hips and marched her backward.

She squeaked as I manhandled her to the wall beside the fridge. “Sorry for what?”

I fought my quaking as I yanked my mask down, cupped her cheeks, and trapped her with my body. “For this.”

And then, I lowered my head, tipped up her chin, and kissed her.

The second my lips claimed hers, the box TV in the living room turned on, hissing with static and snow. Peng meowed. The curtains fluttered. And a bolt of lightning shot from my heart to Sailor’s.

We both groaned.

Her hands flew up to fist in my hair.

Mine shifted to the back of her head, cradling her so I could kiss her as hard as I wanted.

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