Page 6 of Boss with Benefits

Shame smoldered in my veins at the memory. It wasn’t even my damn fault. I had been on medication that tanked my testosterone. I had changed the meds right after that mortifying date, but I hadn’t gone near a woman since, terrified it would happen again.

I glared at my lap, at the traitor lurking in my trousers. I could take care of things solo, no problem, but a woman hadn’t stirred life into it since that day. Not until last week, when Rachel Arya decided to take her damn shirt off in the locker room—blood had rushed south like it was on a mission.

And I wasn’t even attracted to her!

I used to have a therapist to talk to about this shit, but he dumped me. Said I didn’t want to be fixed. No, asshole, I just didn’t want to tell some thirty-year-old guy that my dick didn’t work. He had known I was holding back and said if I couldn’t be honest with him, he couldn’t help me.

It wasn’t like I had a problem talking about my feelings—I had an entire podcast dedicated to stripping away toxic masculinity and showing men they didn’t have to be afraid to express their emotions. Hell, Isaac and I always signed off by saying “I love you, man.”

Growing up with six younger sisters meant emotions were constantly thrown at me from every direction. They had dressed me up, put makeup on me, and clipped bows in my hair. It made them happy, and their happiness made me laugh. So yeah, I’d never shied away from the softer side of my personality.

But years of working homicide cases, witnessing the horrors people inflicted on each other, had forced me to compartmentalize to keep my sanity.

Instead of therapy, I was pouring my frustrations onto my computer, my fingers flying as I typed stream-of-consciousness style. It was a trick my therapist taught me. Journaling released stress by engaging a different part of the brain, helping to stop the spiral of insanity.

“Does that say ‘I hate my dick’?” An amused female voice cut through my thoughts.

I slammed my laptop shut and spun around. One of the newer hosts, Alexis Fairchild, was standing over my shoulder.

Shit.

Her podcast,Sex with Lex, was the second most popular on our platform. She’d already had a large following, but since she’d signed with Dreamary, her audience had tripled, thanks in part to our recent partnership with NOW, one of the biggest media conglomerates in the country.

Despite the provocative subject of her podcast, Lexi was laid-back and unassuming. When she was in the office, she kept to herself—did her show, then left. We talked regularly, but it was always business-related.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” I grumbled, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Yeah, I got that.” She plopped down in the chair beside me, crossing her legs as she set down a stack of files. “I have an early interview and needed to prep.”

I grunted, staring anywhere but at her, not sure how to address what she had just read.

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked, her tone surprisingly gentle—no smirk, no laughter. “No pressure, but I am a therapist. I’m used to talking about delicate matters.” Lexi leaned forward, her auburn hair spilling over her shoulder onto the table. “I help people like you all the time. Without shame or judgment.”

“I know. I listen to your show,” I said, still avoiding her gaze.

She leaned back, her expression calm. “So talk to me.”

Frustration built like a pressure cooker. What the hell. Maybe it was time to get this out.

“It’s broken,” I huffed, more to myself than to her.

“Tell me more,” she prompted, her voice steady.

“It stopped working when I was taking some medicine. I quit the meds, but I’m still having issues,” I said cryptically.

“What meds?” she asked, her voice professional.

“Finasteride.”

“Ah,” she said, nodding like she was familiar with it. “Yes, that lowers your testosterone. ED is a very common side effect.”

I glanced around the office. The space was still dim, the first rays of the sun beginning to filter in through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor.

“How long ago did it start?” she asked.

“Over a year ago. I was on a date and…” I trailed off, heat creeping up my neck.

“Were there other times?” Lexi asked, her tone neutral.

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