Page 88 of Passion Island

Dr. Dangerfield crossed her legs at the ankles, and said, “Mrs. Evans. Why don’t you tell me what’s going through your mind at this very minute.”

Krista rubbed her left forearm, then pulled imaginary lint from her shirt, before looking up at Dr. Dangerfield. “I’m wondering why I am really here. Why we are here?”

“I see,” Dr. Dangerfield said. “Well, the purpose of being here is to help you and your husband to strengthen your bond through love and understanding and acceptance.”

“I know all that,” Krista stated. “But that’s not Kendall and my issue. We have a strong marriage”—again, she glanced over at Kendall—“at least I hope we do.”

And then Krista’s gaze locked on Dr. Dangerfield’s. “I don’t cheat. And Kendall isn’t cheating on me.” She looked over at Kendall again, this time for substantiation. He couldn’t, he wasn’t ready to, answer that, so he reached over for her hand and she took that as validation. “So, what really is the problem?”

“I don’t doubt you and your husband love one another,” Dr. Dangerfield said as she opened a folder that she’d held in her lap since Krista and Kendall had walked into her office. “Do you remember the night you and your husband were in The Garden playing the couple’s game?”

Krista shifted in her seat again. “Of course I do. Why?”

“Well, it was evident that although you know a lot about your husband, there were still things about him that you obviously didn’t know.”

Krista cut her eyes over at Kendall, then fixed her gaze back on Dr. Dangerfield.

“Like the fact that he wanted you to swallow him during oral sex,” Dr. Dangerfield said, glancing down at her notes, “and that he preferred making love to you from the back rather than missionary . . .”

Krista felt her face heat. “Is there a point to all of this?” she asked. Yes. She was on the defense and she didn’t really know why.

Dr. Dangerfield offered her a smile. “The point is, real intimacy comes when genuine connections are made, when compromise can be made and partners can be sexually transparent and honest with one another.”

Krista frowned. “So are you trying to tell me that Kendall is keeping secrets from me, other than the fact that he likes to choke his chicken behind my back and has some idea that I should swallow his sperm?”

Dr. Dangerfield felt the urge to laugh in her face. “No, no, that’s not what I’m proposing,” she clarified instead. “But what I am suggesting, however, is that based on the questions you’d gotten wrong, it would seem that your husband has been keeping parts of who he is sexually from you. A partner should know that his or her partner enjoys masturbation, or what their favorite sexual positions might be.”

Krista scoffed. “So because I didn’t know that Kendall likes to play with himself, that means our marriage is in trouble?”

Dr. Dangerfield paused a beat, then said, “Tell me this, Mrs. Evans. After game night, did you talk to your husband at any time once you returned to your villa about any of his answers?”

“No,” Krista stated.

“Well, why not?”

“Because honestly, I didn’t feel like talking about it. If Kendall wants to play with himself—even though I give him sex three-to-four times a week, then let him. But what I do want to know is”—she turned to Kendall—“when are you doing this?”

Kendall shrugged. “Mostly when I’m home alone. But there are times when I masturbate when you’re either asleep or I’m in the shower.”

Krista grimaced. “So you’re addicted to masturbating?”

Kendall shook his head. “No, baby. Nothing like that.”

Krista raised a brow. “Then what is it?”

“I enjoy it,” he said.

Krista scowled. “Well, what or who are you thinking about when you’re doing it?”

Shit. He should have known that question was coming. He wasn’t about to confess to her that he watched porn. The type that most men would never publicly admit to—let alone tell his wife. So a lie was better than the truth.

“I’m not really thinking of anything, most times, when—”

“Oh come off of it, Kendall,” Krista interrupted. “Don’t insult me. You are not going to sit here and tell me that your dick just gets hard and you’re not thinking of something or someone.”

Kendall shifted in his seat. Of course he thought of something—having his prostate milked. But he wasn’t going to tell her that—not right now. Not after seeing how she was already acting about him masturbating.

Krista gave him a blank stare. Then blinked. And before he could answer her, she said, “What kind of man likes to play with a dick when he has a wife who screws him whenever he wants sex?”

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