Page 11 of A Method to His Madness

“It’s getting close to dinner time. Would you like me to bring you home for the night and we can resume our session tomorrow? Or would you like to have dinner with me?”

A delicious flush darkens her cheeks.

She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“What is it, Ashley?” Did she notice her thighs flexed when I said her name? “As I mentioned earlier, nothing you say to me will leave my confidence. Nothing you say will be considered shameful or wrong. Not even your darkest confessions.”

“I don’t know if I have any dark confessions, it’s just…it’s so strange to be given…options. What I would like to do. Where I want to have dinner. I went from living with my set-in-their-ways parents to Waylon. That kind of thing is usually up to someone else.”

“Now it’s up to you.”

Her chest rises and shudders down. “That’s how itshouldbe.”

I want to hold her. “Yes, that’s how it should be, angel.”

That endearment slides right out without any forethought and it’s too late to take it back. Can’t play it off, either, because the way I said it matches how I feel when I look at her. Tender, protective. Hungry.

“I’m sorry,” I say, at a loss. “I hope that didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

She hasn’t blinked since I said it. “I’m not an angel.”

“What’s your definition of an angel?”

A beat passes. “An infallible being. With wings.”

“Maybe for me, an angel is someone faced with a lot of difficulty but manages to hold on to their sense of self. And their dreams.”

Silence passes slowly.

“I don’t think I should have dinner with you,” she whispers.

There’s a hard lurch in my chest. “All right. Because I’ve upset you?”

A small hesitation. “No.”

I wait, holding my breath.

She smooths her palm along the cushion of the couch and I can almost hear my words repeating in her head.Nothing you say to me will leave my confidence.“I guess I don’t really understand my…how I feel when I’m around you.”

It costs me a giant effort to remain seated.

I can normally predict what my clients are going to say. None of my preconceived notions apply to Ashley, do they? Professionally or personally. She’s one of a kind.

“Would you like to explain what you mean?”

“You confuse me.”

“How?”

“You give me freedom. But for some reason…” She wets her lips. “I don’t want to take freedom…from you. I finally have the chance to run free and taste some independence and yet, I want to stay around you. My body—”

Oh Jesus.

“What about your body?” I rasp.

“I’m not used to feeling anything but tension around men.”

“But around me you feel…”

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