Page 11 of Dead Bled Ringer
Something pulled deep in my gut, a shameful dirty twinge of memory.
Was I a deviant too?
“It’s why he’s just a damn car mechanic instead of working in the family business,” Henry went on. “He can’t be trusted.”
“And how did it makeyoufeel?” Dr. Willoughby-Horton asked, turning to him.
“I feel disgusted,” my husband said. “I’ve told my brother he is not welcome at our home or my business anymore. And he’s lucky I don’t report his criminal ass to the police.”
She nodded. We had seen a few different therapists during our marriage, as my husband struggled with staying faithful to me. But precise, calm Dr. Willoughby-Horton was the first one who I felt could help us truly save our marriage. There was something about her cool efficiency, that immaculately tailored navy blue suit, the crisp blonde ponytail, that made me feel like my chaotic thoughts and emotions were explainable.
After all, didn’t everyone make mistakes? Didn’t I sometimes forget and leave my keys in the Lexus? Or not to lock the back door? Or said something thoughtless and rude to my husband?
“If you feel comfortable, would you like to talk about what, specifically, Hunter did to you?” she asked, her pen poised over a yellow pad of paper.
I shifted in my chair, feeling a prickle of heat break out on my neck.
“No, I don’t think I would feel comfortable discussing that.”
I put one ankle over the other and looked down at my bare tanned legs.
My toes were still pink and pearly and perfect. Focus on that.
“Are you sure?” she asked soothingly. “It might help you feel better to get it all out.”
Henry’s hands tightened on my shoulders, trying to rub the tension out of them.
Slick drops of sweat slid down the back of my shirt, and I hoped he couldn’t tell.
“He did the things I told Henry I wanted. That’s all. It didn’t last very long.”
Dr. Willoughby-Horton nodded. “I see. Was there not any part of you that took pleasure in the act?”
“No,” I said automatically. “No. Not at all.”
I felt Henry tense beside me.
Well, his feelings were understandable, of course.
His own twin brother had used Henry’s generosity in giving him a company stipend to snoop around and look at the fantasy I had written out, to pry into my deepest desires to try in his own depraved way to fulfill them.
“Come now,” she asked gently. “It wouldn’t be so strange if you had taken some pleasure in it. Is Hunter not a handsome man?”
“No,” I said quickly. “No, he didn’t even make me come.”
Liar, a little conscience-stricken voice reminded me. Hedidmake you come. Harder than you ever came in your entire life.
I mentally shoved that annoying little voice down in a box and squeezed my thighs together.
Henry seemed to relax at my words.
“My brother is a mindless brute and a savage. Of course you wouldn’t want any of that.”
“I didn’t like any of it,” I hastened to assure him. “I was just going along because I thoughtyouwanted it.”
“You’re so sweet,” Henry said affectionately.
My thighs ached with how tightly I was squeezing them together, and I shifted my position, realizing with a shock that my panties were wet. Very wet.
