Page 37 of Physical Therapy

EIGHTEEN

Edith

“What do you think you’re doing?” I walk into my office to find Boe seated at my desk. “You can’t just bully my clients out of their appointments.”

“I can, and I did.” He lifts the lid of my laptop. “What’s your password?”

“Get out.”

Asshole taps on the keyboard. “Nope. Didn’t work.”

“Boe. We’re not scheduled. And quite frankly, even if you were I don’t know if I could continue with our sessions.”

“Why?” he challenges, glaring at me over the top of my screen. “Because we slept together?”

“No.” I shut the door, praying like hell Molly didn’t hear that, let alone Mrs. Cruse. “Because you kicked me out. Until you actually want treatment, then there’s no point in me pretending I can help you.”

“I want treatment,” he says rising from my seat. “Just not while the taste of your cunt is still fresh on my lips.”

“You’re so damn crude,” I snap.

He stalks across the office toward me. “You want to know why I’m here?”

“Should I drop my pencil?” I taunt.

His eyes flash with pure excitement. “Promise?”

I sigh as he stops toe to toe. “Spit it out. Why do you need to see me so damn desperately?”

“Same reason you need to see me,” he murmurs, a delicious rumble to his tone. “Because I crave you. All fucking day.” His gaze drops between us; raking over my clothed body with the same passion he shows when I’m naked. Perhaps in his mind, I am? “And,” he adds. “I want to prove something to you.”

“What would that be?” God, I want to lick him.

“That I can be the asshole you love without getting myself arrested again.”

“Is that so?” I hitch an eyebrow.

His hands lift between us, both thumbs brushing my nipples as he cups my breasts. “I just was, wasn’t I?” The tiny buds peak at his caress. “Go on,” Boe taunts. “Tell me it didn’t turn you on how I acted out there.”

Damn it. As though I could lie when my body screams the truth. “Is that your plan?” I say dryly. “Come in here every day and slowly scare my clientele away?”

“Perhaps.” His hands slide to the top button of my blouse. “I might also have other ideas.”

My hands capture his wrists as he undoes the top clasp, and yet I don’t try to stop him. Instead, my grasp travels with Boe’s while he slowly unbuttons my blouse. “We can’t do this here.”

“Like fuck we can’t.” He curls his top lip in a sneer and chuckles, gaze fixed to the golden silk as it falls away from my body. “In my mind, I’ve already done it a dozen times.”

“You’ll have to change therapist,” I protest weakly, all the while shifting my arms so that the blouse falls to the floor.

“See,” he says with a tip of his head. “I’ve thought about what you said around that.” His fingers make fast work of the zipper on my skirt. “And there’s a flaw in your reasoning.”

“There is?” Cotton blend pools around my ankles.

I step out of it, flicking the skirt aside with one leather heel.

“For what we’re doing here to be a conflict of interest—” He smiles. “—then people have to know about it.”

“You propose we try to keep this a secret?” I raise one eyebrow and scoff at the man. “As though that would be possible.”

---