Page 15 of A Method to His Madness

Patience.

You will have patience.

I told her in very clear terms yesterday that I want her. And she’s still came here of her own free will. I should be seeing this as progress from several different angles. I am. I do. It’s simply getting more and more difficult to ignore my severe hunger for this woman.

Thismarriedwoman I plan to steal out from under her husband’s nose.

“Good morning, Ashley,” I say, striving to keep my tone even.

“Good morning, Caleb.”

I ease back and allow her to enter my office. She comes slowly, glancing up at me shyly from beneath her eyelashes as she passes. “Would you like me to take your coat?”

“Sure.” With her back to me, she shrugs the garment into my waiting hands, pinkness creeping up the side of her neck when I linger close to her a second too long. “Um.” I hear her swallow. “What are we going to do today?”

I hang her coat on the hook by the door, adjusting my stiff cock before turning to face her again. “How we proceed is up to you, Ashley, but I think we should dig a little deeper today.”

Green eyes fly to mine. “D-deeper?”

She thinks I mean physically—it’s easy to see that—though I’m actually referring to her psyche. Still, the man who is starved for her can’t help but press a little before making the clarification. Just to get a clue of how long she plans to keep me waiting. “Yes.” I pace closer to her, listening to her breath hitch. “I want to put you on the couch and go extra deep.” I drop my gaze to her knees and stroke it up the front of her body. “Really find the source of what’s making you ache.”

“Ache,” she whispers, shifting in her sandals. “I…I thought you were going to let me decide if you touch me.”

If? We’re still at “if.”

God help me.

I feign confusion. “That decisionisyours. I’m talking about digging into your trauma, angel. What did you think I meant?”

“Nothing,” she blurts, spinning out of my reach and skirting around to the couch where she sits abruptly. “Trauma sounds amazing.”

Despite the heavy pain below my belt, my lips twitch.

I drag a hand down my face, which I apparently forgot to shave, and take my spot at the chair across from Ashley, settling my clipboard onto my lap. I want to tell her she looks like fucking paradise in that dress, but focusing on her looks is a trigger for her, so I hold my tongue. Instead, I say, “Talk to me about your parents.”

She opens her mouth, but hesitates, crossing her legs.

I show no outward reaction to the flash of lily-white panties, but my balls tighten roughly between my legs.

“Well, we’re on good terms now. But they…it’s hard to be around them sometimes, I guess.” Her lips twist. “Not that I’ve gotten much of a chance recently. Waylon doesn’t like me to visit.”

Of course not. He’s isolating her.

Temper burns up my windpipe. “Why is it hard to be around your parents?”

Ashley considers her folded hands. “They obviously feel very guilty about what they were forced to do. They cry and apologize…and I don’t know how to comfort them.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “Sometimes I’m not sure I want to comfort them.”

“Interesting. Why do you think that is?”

Her fingers flinch ever so slightly. Several seconds of silence passes. I wait.

“I don’t think they ever really believed me. When I told them…how bad it was.”

“How bad what was?”

“The harassment from men. And later, from Waylon.” She shrugs a shoulder. “I could have ignored the harassment if it were just cat calls and inappropriate comments, even though no one should be subject to those, either.” She seems to be breathing faster. “But there was an incident. In high school. After that, I just wanted to…hide.”

The word incident almost has me snapping the clipboard in half.

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