by Piper Rayne
“I’m perfectly fine. Why don’t you prefer to have sex before a game? Superstition?”
“Nah. Before I found out who you were, I might’ve enjoyed a round or two with you before a game.”
I wiggle in my seat. He’s getting to me, and I’m fearful I’ll never make it through this appointment. “And exactly who am I?”
“A shrink. Someone who makes a living by making people believe something is wrong with them.”
My pen slips from my grasp, toppling to the floor. He bends down to retrieve it and hands it back to me. When our fingers brush during the exchange, goose bumps rush up my arm.
“I don’t make people believe anything is wrong with them.”
“Sure, you do. Like if I told you I was into BDSM or some shit, you’d probably dive in deeper, wondering why I’d want control or to hurt someone or be hurt myself.”
“I can’t deny that I would want to know why you were into that.”
“Maybe it’s just my kink and has nothing to do with a bad upbringing, or unresolved daddy issues, or being bullied in high school.” His raised eyebrow grates on my last nerve, but he’s doing this so I’ll kick him out of my office.
Instead, I smile sweetly, not taking the bait. “Perhaps. But it could be exactly what you just said. That’s why I went to school, to figure out whether that’s the case.”
He stares at me a beat. A beat too long because I squirm, and he smirks, knowing the effect he has on me. “It’s a shame, right?”
I clear my throat. “What is?”
“If you didn’t work for the team as a therapist, I might be able to relieve that ache you’re feeling between your thighs right now.”
I use every muscle in my jaw to not allow it to hang open. All while my panties grow wetter. He’s called me out and I hate that he’s right.
“Maybe we should talk about your ego,” I say.
He chuckles again. “It’s very much intact.”
“Exactly. Maybe there’s a reason for that.”
“Or maybe I’m confident in my skills. That kiss on New Year’s Eve was amazing. We’d be compatible in bed.”
“Sometimes you hockey players amaze me.”
His mouth opens in a dazzling smile—not with perfectly straight teeth, but alluring all the same. Just like his nose that’s slightly crooked, there’s something so appealing about his imperfections and how they all work together to make one insanely attractive man.
“Why?” he asks.
“The confidence. Surely at some point, you were a shy kid who wasn’t confident in his skills.”
He laughs and his gaze dips to my legs, then he changes the subject. “Do you wear a dress every day?”
“Most.” I’ve always been more of a dress person. Or a skirt and a blouse. Rarely do I wear pants.
“You don’t have any tights on either,” he says, his voice hoarse.
“Well, I’m not eight years old.”
His eyes meet mine, and those sparkling blues pour heat all over my body. He’s right to think we’d be compatible in bed. “Excuse me?”
“Girls wear tights. I would be wearing nylons.”
His gaze returns to my legs. “Regardless, you’re not wearing any.”
I shake my head. “No. Now—”
“So if I was to slide my hands up your legs right now, the only barrier for my hand touching your pussy is a thin pair of panties?”
I shift in my seat again, not sure how we got this off track. “We should stick to what you’re here for—therapy.”
“What color are they?”
“Maksim,” I plead, but my voice is breathless.
His smirk widens because he knows he’s getting to me. “Would you have?”
I set the pad of paper and pen on the edge of the table by my chair. “Would I have what?”
“Slept with me? Gone home with me on New Year’s Eve?”
I look around as if the answer is somewhere in this room. It’s not, but I know in my bones I would have. “I don’t know,” I lie. “I’m not really a one-night stand kind of girl.”
He nods a few times. “Who says I’m a one-night stand kind of guy?”
“You kissed me shortly after meeting me.”
“You’re making an assumption. Should a therapist really assume things about their client?”
I grab the pad and pen again. “Tell me then, Maksim… are you sexually promiscuous?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not looking for relations with every girl, but if it happens, it happens.”
It would have been easier for me if he were a womanizing manwhore. “That’s refreshing.”
“Answer my question. Would you have come home with me?”
I look him directly in the eyes. “We shouldn’t be talking about that. We’re therapist and patient now.”
“If you sign off on my slip, that part of this relationship could end.”
He’s so right and damn if I don’t want to see his head disappear under my dress. To feel one swipe of that filthy tongue I know he has along my center. But Mr. Gerhardt trusts me, and I can’t very well falsify records and still expect him to refer me out to people.
I clear my throat. It is long past time for me to get this session back under control. “Okay, enough, Mr. Petrov.” I glance at the clock and see we still have twenty minutes remaining. “Either we actually talk for the next twenty minutes, or this session doesn’t count.”
He relaxes back into the sofa and spreads his legs wide. “I’m Russian, only child, my parents are still married. What else do you want to know?”
“Why are you so rough on the ice?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “I’m a hockey player.”
“Sure, but have you given any thought as to why you take it upon yourself to police other players for violations the refs miss, or even the ones players are already penalized for?”
He stares me dead in the eyes, his gaze intense. “I protect the ones I love.”
My stomach drops and not because I didn’t think that exact thing when I started watching tapes after Mr. Gerhardt told me his behavior needed correcting. My stomach drops because something rears up in me that wants him to protect me. I’d love those big arms around me, telling me everything is all right. That I won’t feel this lonely all my life.
A few weeks have passed, and I’ve dodged Paisley Pearce every chance I got. Luckily, we’ve had some out of town games, so it was easy to make up excuses for not meeting with her.
Aiden’s having a house party to celebrate Saige moving in with him—her idea, I’m sure—and Ford just texted me that he’s here to pick me up.
I head down the stairs of my beachfront house to find Nadiya walking through the door with Ford right behind her. He motions like he’s humping her from behind without her knowing and I roll my eyes at his immaturity.
Nadiya is a family friend from Russia, here finishing her schooling. My parents pushed me into letting her live with me because otherwise it wouldn’t be safe for her to come to the States. Believe me, the girl can handle herself. I’d be scared if I pissed her off.
“Nadiya, when are you going to admit I’m the one for you and go out with me?” Ford asks, opening our fridge and grabbing a water.
“Try never.” She plops her bag on the breakfast stool and grabs an apple from a bowl of fruit on the center island, sitting on a stool. “Where are you guys going?”
“Aiden’s,” Ford answers.
“And Saige’s,” I chime in. “Want to come?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m exhausted. All I want to do is to veg out on the couch and eat greasy food.”
“Cool. I’ll be home later.”
“I can join him, if you want a nighttime visitor,” Ford says, waggling his eyebrows.
I place my hand at the back of his head, leading him to the door. Nadiya laughs because she knows Ford and his antics by now. He’s not even close to her type, thank God.
We step out of my house and I push him towar
d his old-school Bronco. That’s one thing I like about Ford, he can be down to earth on occasion. He could’ve hired us a ride in some fancy car, but he’s chosen to drive us over.
“Stop hitting on her. You know it’s never going to happen. Besides, hasn’t your dick already got you in enough trouble?”
He laughs, but I hear the strain in it, and I feel like an ass for my comment. Ford climbs into his Bronco, a classic without the top. Somehow it suits Ford even though he could be driving around in a Ferrari. I think he only has the Bronco because he surfs whenever he can during the winter months.
He asks, “How do you live with her and not want to motorboat those tits?”
“I don’t think of her like that.”
And I don’t. Nadiya isn’t just a family friend. She was my best friend’s little sister. That line was drawn a long time ago. When Armen died, I took on his role as her protector.
“You’re lying.” Ford starts the truck and pulls out of my drive, heading toward Aiden’s.
Ford plays his rap music so damn loud there’s no having a conversation until we’re parked outside Aiden’s beach house.
“You’re gonna lose your damn hearing,” I say while shutting off the music.
He turns off the ignition and looks at me. “You’re fucking old.”
I flip him off and walk up to the front door, where I ring the bell.
“Why are you ringing the bell?” Ford asks, his hand on the doorknob.
“Because this is now Saige’s house and I’m sure Aiden wouldn’t be cool if the two of us walked in on her naked and riding him.”
The door opens.
“I’m surprised you rang the bell,” Aiden says.
I point at Ford. “He wasn’t going to. I had to explain that this is now Saige’s house too and you wouldn’t like him seeing the two of you fucking on the stairs or some shit.”
Aiden leads us toward the back patio while I roll my eyes at Ford.
“We don’t fuck before a party.”
I know that’s a bullshit lie, and we both raise our eyebrows at him.
“Just be careful in the kitchen. It’s Saige’s favorite,” Aiden jokes, and we both groan.
“So where is the missus?” I ask, taking a beer from the tub in the back patio and sitting in a lawn chair.
“She’s getting ready.”
“Please tell me you didn’t invite everyone from the Fury?” I ask. “Aka not Paisley the shrink.” I’ve dodged her this long, I don’t want to get cornered on what is supposed to be an enjoyable evening.
He laughs. “I’m not entirely sure who Saige invited. I doubt she would have. Although she did invite Jana, and I heard those two are tight.”
Jana is Mr. Gerhardt’s daughter, and ever since Aiden’s game came back, he’s back to being the son Mr. Gerhardt never had. He and Saige were invited over for dinner last week and if the rumor mill is right, Jana and Saige hit it off.
Ford knocks his knee against mine. “Why don’t you just make up some bullshit story? Give her some ‘woe is me’ past that’s completely made up. Let her think she’s helping you, and move on?”
I still for a second. That’s not a bad idea. Kind of what I was doing last time, except I used my time to hit on her with the hopes she’d grow uncomfortable and demand an end to the sessions. I’m not sure how convincing I could be if I was lying about some fake sordid past.
“She’s smart. She’ll probably see right through it,” I admit.
“Oh please, you just lead them where they already want to go.” Ford shakes his head at me. “I’ve been going to shrinks my entire life. Take me. Classic rich boy, so my shrink has me pegged before I even enter and thinks I have daddy issues.”
“You do have daddy issues,” Aiden deadpans.
Ford ignores the comment. “So I tell her a few things my dad demanded of me, even making shit up like he was my baseball coach—I mean, as if a man who runs a multimillion dollar company had time to coach his son’s baseball team. Come on. Sooner or later, she’s hanging on to every last piece of bullshit I’m telling her.”
I don’t say anything, and the doorbell ringing interrupts us.
“I’ll be back,” Aiden says.
The more I think about Ford’s plan, the more I think it’s my only hope to get out of these sessions without allowing her to try to turn me into a crying mess on her couch. I hate lying, but in certain circumstances, I have no choice. This just might be one of them.
“Tweetie!” Ford hollers as our left winger and his girl, Tedi, walk out and join us on the patio.
I’m at the food table when Paisley’s shoulder brushes mine. I glance over and her dark curly hair blows in the wind. Her caramel-colored eyes meet mine.
“Hey, Maksim,” she says.
“Paisley.” I pick up some of the pig and put it on my plate.
She eyes my plate, then she’s staring at the table as though she can’t decide what she wants to eat. I guess there’s no time like the present.
“So, I was thinking…” I start while she places some veggies on her plate.
“Is that an unusual act for you?” Before I can respond, she laughs and her hand lands on my shoulder. “I’m kidding.”
The fact she couldn’t keep the joke going for longer than ten seconds says she’s either uncomfortable in front of me or not used to being a jokester.
“The therapy. I gave you a hard time and I’ve had a change of heart. I’ve got two more sessions and I’ll happily come.”
She looks around us.
“What?” I raise an eyebrow.
“I’m searching for the camera. Surely this is a joke you’re playing on me.”
Finally, she puts a burger on her plate. I feared she might be a vegetarian. I’m not sure I could ever date someone with that kind of self-control. Then again, I can’t date Paisley for more reasons than whether or not she eats meat.
“No joke. I gave you a hard time and now…”
“The search-and-rescue mission you’ve had me on for the last three weeks isn’t cool. Mr. Gerhardt wants feedback on who’s coming to their appointments. I gave you a pass and said you stopped in last week but had an emergency and had to leave before our session commenced.”
I stand still and take her in. She covered for me? Damn, that’s a turn-on. “Thanks. I’ll come in this week.”
She nods and looks me over. “Thanks a lot, Maksim. I appreciate you changing the way this can go. I promise you, I won’t bite.”
“That’s a shame, I like women who do.” The words fall out before I can take them back.
She raises her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. For a second, I wonder if her pussy is as manicured as her eyebrows. “We really should set some ground rules.”
The flush on her cheeks only spurs me to continue. I like being the reason she’s blushing. “What’s fun about ground rules?”
“I can’t counsel you if you continue to hit on me.”
I laugh and set my plate on the table, holding both hands up in the air. “Who said I was hitting on you? I’m merely vocalizing a preference.”
“You need to stop flirting with me.”
I slide my tongue across my bottom lip and take her in for the tenth time since she arrived. She’s in a short sundress that shows off more skin than I’m comfortable with. I’m sure every man here is checking her out and wondering what she looks like with it pooled at her feet. I’m no exception. I won’t deny that I want her, but I get that right now isn’t the best time, what with her being my therapist. Maybe after the third visit, I can ask her out and see where this could go. Even if it’s only for one night, it’d be worth it.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers. Her gaze darts around the immediate area as though she fears someone is watching us.
“We’re both single,” I say.
“I know, but we can’t pursue anything. Things have to be professional.”
“These limitations you’re trying to put in place only make me want
to push your boundaries, doctor. See how far I can get.”
Her cheeks flush pink again, and I bite my lip, imagining what she looks like when she comes. “I’m serious, Maksim.”
“Your tone doesn’t match your words.”
“Listen, I’m attracted to you, I can’t deny that. But I’m your therapist now, so all of that is off the table. We have to forget the kiss.”
Ah. I arch an eyebrow. “So you think about it?”
She shakes her head, picks up her plate, and stalks off.
“It’s okay to admit. I beat off to the image of you in my head,” I say before anyone gets closer.
Her feet stop on Aiden’s deck, and I silently will her to turn around. Say she’s up for breaking the rules and let’s go back to her place. But instead, she shakes her head and continues walking over to the table where Jana is.
“Damn, I need to get myself under control,” I say to myself.
Twenty minutes later, I approach Saige and Aiden having a couple moment. I barely see my buddy alone anymore. Saige leaves us to join the girls on the beach.
“I’m taking Ford’s advice,” I murmur since Aiden isn’t going to like it.
He shakes his head. “You know it’ll never work, right? She’ll see right through you.”
I shrug. “I got this. A couple sessions and she’ll think I’m good. No way Gerhardt thinks I should be in therapy forever.”
“Well, good luck,” he says, patting me on the back. It’s clear he thinks this will blow up.
We both lean on the balcony railing, looking over the beach where Paisley, Jana, Saige, and Tedi are trying to hula. Paisley’s hips swing back and forth, making my dick go half chub.
“She’s fucking hot, right?” I say.
“Saige? Yeah.”
“Not Saige, but yeah, her too. Paisley. That long dark hair. The curls. Imagine that spread out on your pillowcase in the morning.”
Aiden glances over. “And you’re about to lie to her.”
A sick feeling rolls through my stomach, but I pat him on the shoulder. “I’m starving. Gonna go eat.”
Not wanting to dwell on this conversation, I walk away as though I didn’t just eat.