Page 20 of Release Me

ChapterTen

RICHARD

“Brynn,I need details. What happened this morning?”

“Finn and Andy got into a fight,” Brynn says, casually as if we were shooting the shit over morning coffee.

“Do you know how hard I had to fight to keep Dr. Silver from throwing you in isolation again? From trying to throw your ass back inprison?”

I stare at Brynn from where I lean against the edge of my desk. She’s sitting cross-legged on the sofa across the room, just like she has every day for the past week. Since the day I carried her in here, wrapped in a towel. Her exquisite body covered the black leather so beautifully. I couldn’t help but imagine what she would look like lying across my spanking bench at home.

The cut on her head isn’t severe and only neededSteri-Strips, thank goodness. The same can’t be said about the orderly we walked to the infirmary.

“I’m only asking you one more time. What happened?”

“They got into a fight. I told you that.”

“Cut the shit, Brynn.” My glare is fixed on her as I stalk closer to the sofa.

She swallows nervously but doesn’t speak up.

“You and Finn have a connection. I know that. I’ve read all about your relationship with him in your file.” I stop when I am inches from the sofa, forcing her to look straight up into my face to see me.

She is eye level with my dick right now, and I can see her try not to look at it. I can see the wheels in her head turning, thinking she can reach out and touch it, and I will stop my tirade of questions.

But she’s dead wrong.

“Are you not telling me because you’re trying to protect Finn? Or are you trying to protect yourself?”

No answer.

“I read all about the time he almost killed you.”

“But, he didn’t.”

“But he could have. You were in the infirmary for a week. You got lucky, and yet you still go back to him, knowing he has a short fuse and a penchant for violence.”

“Because he’s the only good dick in this place.”

I crouch down in front of her and take a deep breath.

“Brynn, you have a death wish. I’m not going to say I don’t care about the orderly he beat, because I do care, but the fact that you were there, and it could have been you he took his aggression out on…” My voice cuts off, and I honestly don’t know how to finish that sentence. I care for her. It’s crazy, and I know it’s only been a week since we met, but there is something within my broken soul that connects with hers.

I stand, needing to get away from her. Her pull is powerful, and I can’t afford to let my attraction get in the way of her therapy. My feet carry me across the room to my chair, and I lean over the back of it, resting my forearms across the top.

I know what she needs.

She needs me to bend her over the arm of that sofa and spank her ass raw.

No, it’s more than just that, more than the need to dominate and control her every move. She needs me to orchestrate the perfect scene for her. One where she can get the excitement and intrigue she seeks, but in a safe and healthy space, where no one will get hurt. She needs me to, but I don’t want to push too much too soon.

I need to make sure she’s completely open and willing to the therapy first. She needs to feel as though she is in control. Like she is the one showing me what she needs to heal.

“What do you know about Cognitive Behavioral Therapy?”

“What?”

“Have you ever heard of it before?”

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