Page 12 of A Method to His Madness

She crosses her thighs in response, swallowing, pupils dilated.

“Are you aroused, Ashley?” I ask, on the verge of coming in my pants.

“I don’t think I know w-what it feels like to be aroused.”

My God, I’m burning alive.

If her honesty wasn’t undoing me, the telling side-to-side shift of her hips would. “I can ask you a series of questions to determine if you’re aroused. Or I can join you on the couch and make a determination. Physically.” My pulse is skittering, voice unnaturally thick. “But the latter would require me to touch you. Is that what you want?”

She thinks about it. “Maybe…not yet.”

Sexual frustration strangles me with its bare hands, but I don’t allow myself to show it. “Very well. I’ll make my determination from here.”

“Okay,” she whispers.

Thank God for my clipboard, because it’s hiding the rigid column of my cock. The wet spot I’m sure is spreading at the top of my zipper. “Does your skin feel sensitive, Ashley?”

“Yes.”

I make a note. “Are your breasts heavy?”

She sucks in a breath and nods.

“What about your little nipples?” My voice is a bare scrape of sound. “Are they hard and puckered?”

“Yes,” she complains, nearly killing me by rubbing the heel of her hand against the stiff peaks, gasping at the friction. “They hurt.”

A bead of sweat rolls down my spine. “Last question.” I dig the tip of my pen into my thigh to the point of pain. “Are you wet between your legs?”

She closes her eyes, a blush painting her cheeks. “For hours.”

It’s everything I can do not to drop the clipboard and unzip my pants. Beat myself blind and come on the carpet at her feet. “It is my professional opinion that you’re aroused, Ashley,” I manage, winded.

Her lips form a moist oval, fingers clawing the edge of the leather couch cushion. “What should I do about it? Is there a way to make the ache go away?”

“Yes,” I grit out. I’ve never been so keyed up in my life. Desperate for her and her alone. But I won’t violate her wishes. Or her will. I’m going to be the one man who doesn’t do that to her, even if it kills me—and it very well might. “You’ve never had an orgasm?”

“N-no?”

Jesus. It’s no wonder she’s so horny. Twenty years old and never had relief. She’s been stifling her natural impulses. Or they’ve been stifling themselves, because she’s never felt safe enough to explore them. Never seen her sexuality as anything but a negative. An obstacle. Now that she’s been given some space to think and feel, her libido is probably busting out of its cage.

“Take off your panties, angel. I’ll guide you through it.”

CHAPTER 6

Ashley

What is happening to me?

I’m overcome by such a mixture of emotions. Gratitude and desperation.

Hope.

Need.

What do I need, though?

When I look at Caleb, when he speaks to me in that deep therapist voice, my blood seems to cook itself, every hair follicle on my body standing at attention. There are muscles and tendons south of my belly button I’ve never encountered and suddenly they are tighter than piano wire, stretching and making me crazy. I can’t think straight with this urgency plaguing my body. An urgency I don’t understand.

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