"I have, many times." My heart is slamming in my chest as I admit this truth out loud.

In a blink of an eye, she spins, tilts her head, and gazes at me with a frown between her brows. "You?"

I chuckle at her disbelieving tone. "Yeah, me."

"Why did you need to see a psychiatrist?"

I disconnect our gaze and stare outside. "My father's death."

She lets out an enormous sigh, and suddenly her forehead touches my chest. I don't move and wait.

"Did it help to talk?" she asks.

"At first, I didn't believe it would help, but it did. Every time it helps me get clarity into myself and my thought process."

She lifts her head and gazes at me. "When was the last time you've talked to a psychiatrist?"

My eyes descend and capture hers. "A few days ago."

"A-a few days ago? Why?"

I grab a strand of her blonde silky hair and let it glide between my fingers. "The unforeseen changes that I had to deal with over the last couple of weeks… had their effect on me. So I called her."

She stares sideways, and as she thinks, her fingers draw circles on my shirt, making it hard for me to focus on anything else.

"What is going on in that head of yours?" I ask.

"Maybe..." She stops her movements and rests her forehead back against my chest.

"Maybe what, Alex?" I whisper, putting my hands on her back.

"Maybe I want to try it."

"Try what?"

She groans as she knows I'm pushing her to say it out loud. After a moment of silence, she whispers, "Maybe I want to try talking to someone."

I take her face in the palm of my hand, and when she shows me the frailness inside her emerald orbs, I brush my lips over hers. She lets out a sigh, while digging her fingers into the fabric of my shirt.

"How do I find the right person? She needs to be a woman," she contemplates.

"I can give you the phone number of mine. She's a professional, and I think you'll like her."

"Wouldn't you mind?" she asks, skimming her palm over my torso. To stop her hand moving over my chest, I place mine over hers.

"No, I don't mind, but there is a minor complication. She doesn't live in Boston."

"Then where does she live?"

"Sydney, Australia."

She sends me a questioning stare. "Explain," she says next.

"It's simple. She emigrated to Australia. So now, instead of going to her office, I call her. In your case, you could video call or do a Skype session with her while being in your apartment."

Before I know what's happening, my head is being pulled down, and a nano-second later, her warm mouth meets mine. "Thank you," she whispers as she separates her lips from mine.

Inflamed by her action, I press my mouth back on hers, and when she thrusts her tongue inside, fireworks explode. With her erect nipples pressing against me, and her sweet scent creeping into my blood, my logical thinking takes a step back. I turn us until her back is pressed against the window. Her small hands find their way under my shirt, and I hiss when she scrapes the naked skin of my abdomen with her nails.