His eyes narrowed and he nodded slowly. “I am pleased. I was a little concerned.” He paused. “After our… misunderstanding on Saturday night.”
“Misunderstanding?” I scoffed. “Misunderstanding?”
His face hardened. Swallowing heavily, he exhaled long and slow then sat back in his chair. Steepling his fingers he brought them to his mouth and cleared his throat. “I’ve decided not to press charges.”
I froze. Nothing moved, not even my heart as I stared in bewilderment. Blinking, I coughed away the lump in my throat. “Uhh, what?”
“Against your husband,” he drawled, his callous eyes watching me closely as a smug smirk curled the corner of his too-thick lips. “I mean, the last thing you need right now – with your record…”
“My…my record?”
“Well, yes.” He looked at me like I was stupid, and also with a malicious glint of self-satisfaction. “I mean after Dr Krum made a complaint…”
“What?” I wasn’t aware Krum had complained about me. I knew we’d had our disagreement but I didn’t think he’d gone that far.
“And then the whole episode with your negligence leading to the assault by one of our patients…”
“But I didn’t...”
“Like I said, Kloe. This really wouldn’t look good for your career if we add assault, even if it wasn’t you personally…”
Shooting upright, I banged my fists on his desk. “Ben should have broken every one of your damn fingers!”
James remained quiet with just a small quirk of his eyebrow and a light tilt of his head. “But why?” His smile was viscous. “All I did was try to help you, Kloe.”
“You’re fucking insane!”
“I was just concerned about one of my staff. I understand your problem…”
“My problem? What problem?”
His lips lifted higher and a small chuckle echoed tauntingly from him. Reaching into his desk drawer he pulled out a file and slid it across the desk to me. Vomit rolled up my throat and I struggled to breathe when a stack of papers with my current photograph and one aged nine, my broken and beaten face mocking me, attached by a paperclip, stared up at me. Behind the pictures were three or four psych assessments with the word ‘Confidential’ struck through in red letters. Behind that three or four newspaper articles and various medical reports.
“You bastard.”
He scoffed. “I do also think it quite concerning that you chose to deal with your past by means of food dependency, Kloe. It is obvious you’re physiologically marred, and that does raise some concerns when you’re working closely with emotionally repressed individuals.”
“Why?” I asked quietly. I wanted to cry but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
He frowned dramatically. “I’m just showing concern…”
“Don’t!” I hissed. “Just don’t.”
His laugh followed me after I slammed his office door shut behind me, all the way into the bathrooms while I vomited, my heart sliding up my throat and flushing away with the remnants of my breakfast.
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON WHEN I emerged back in Anderson’s room.
He was nowhere to be seen but the TV played softly in the background, the dreary day making the room dim, the only light coming from a quiz show Anderson had been watching. His reading book sat open on the desk and a beaker of lemonade fizzled quietly.
Turning around when I heard the bathroom door open, my heart leapt up my throat when Anderson stepped out wearing nothing but a white towel around his hips. His long hair was damp, falling in strands over his shoulders and for the first time his beard had gone, just a light dusting of stubble now covering his square chin. Rivulets of water trailed down his bare chest, my eyes following them down the trim line of hair until they disappeared into the wrap of towelling. His body was still thin, his hip bones prominent and his ribcage noticeable but now his stomach muscles were more formed.
“You’ve been working out.”
A small smile touched his lips, glad that I’d noticed, and he nodded. “Yeah. Night time in the gym is the best. It’s just me and the music.”
Seven Oaks was good for him. Its many facilities and different therapies had seen him come on in leaps and bounds in the last few weeks.
However, his scars still haunted me, many rows of silver lines revealing just how hard his life had been. And it would take more than the gym and reading books to mend those.
Unable to control myself, I walked towards him.
He sucked in a breath when I slowly brought my fingers up to the streaks that were evidence of the evil he had suffered. He watched me closely, his chest heaving with his heavy breaths as I drew the tip of my finger over each one.
“Every sentence you read,” I whispered, my gaze mesmerised by each scar as I stroked along every one. “Every word you speak. Every mile on the treadmill, and every horrific thing that happened to you that you voice heal each welt little by little.”
He didn’t say a word but his eyes screamed every thought in his head.
Taking my hand in his he brought it up to his left pectoral muscle and pressed it against his skin. My eyes reached his face and I gasped at the sheer look of need that stared back at me.
“And every one of your smiles, the sound of your soft laugh, the way your brilliant blue eyes watch me,” he whispered back, “heal this little by little.”
I could feel the thud of his heart under my palm when he slid my hand lower, the bang, bang, bang of desire that echoed in his eyes.
He locked me in that stare of his as he dropped his hand from mine. I kept it pressed against him, the quickening beat of his heart hypnotising me.
My breath caught when his fingers slid one button on my blouse through its hole. And then another. And another. Until his hand slid inside the soft cotton and moved the material aside, the cool air making my nipples pebble against the lace of my bra.
My head was screaming at me to stop him. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. And I didn’t want to.
“You’re so beautiful.” I hadn’t realised he’d dropped my gaze until his words brought my eyes back in to focus.
My lips parted and my eyes slid closed when he ran the tip of a finger across the top of my breast, his gentle touch making my stomach heavy with need.
“Anderson,” I warned. But it was no more of a warning than a plea. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was. Yet it felt so right, his touch making me feel more alive than anything ever had. My heart beat harder than it ever had and the desire that ran through every one of my veins scorched me with a fire I’d never experienced.
“Open your eyes, Kloe.”
I did as he bid, peeling open my heavy eyelids.
His eyes roamed over my face as his fingers cupped my full breast, his hand lifting and caressing softly. He studied my face as he brought his other hand to my other breast and pinched my nipple through the material of my bra.
My eyes were closing again; the pleasure he was bringing me with such a small touch making me press myself into him.
“Let me kiss you, Kloe. Please.” He was begging, with his voice, his eyes, his touch. Every part of him pleaded with me to give him what he so very much wanted.
“I…”
He didn’t wait for my permission. Instead he crushed his mouth to mine, halting my words – and my thoughts. A soft groan rumbled from him when I opened for him. I couldn’t have refused him any more than I could have refused myself.
His kiss was gentle, his lips soft as they moved over mine. One hand moved from my breast and disappeared into my hair, taking it and wrapping it around his fist as he pulled my head further back. Deepening the kiss, his tongue slid against mine, twisting and caressing hungrily like he was starved of every single sense except touch and taste.
My hands found his hair and I took a thick strand and tugged, giving him the pain I knew he needed. His moan turned to a growl and before I could take a much needed breath my back was flung onto his bed and
his body completely pinned me under him.
His kiss grew frenzied, his touch firmer as he tried to devour every part of me. His erection pressed into my hip when the towel he wore fell open.
Shit. Fuck.
I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t make it stop. Morality screamed at me, my conscience almost weeping. He was my patient, under my care. Yet my body wanted him with an urgency that overpowered any rational thoughts begging for a hearing.
His cock was hard as I wrapped my fingers around the thick girth. He was cut and the shock of that made me rear back.
Anderson looked pained but his hips rocked, forcing himself in and out of my hand.
“I want…” He looked away from me as he shook his head. “I want… but I…”
“Anderson? What is it?”
Shame covered his face and he looked down at me. Softly tracing my cheekbone with his thumb, he closed his eyes when his cheeks flamed red. “I want to, with you. But I’ve never…”
My mouth dried as I stared up at him in shock.
“Hank, he would… he would fuck me. But I’ve never…. I’ve never…”
“Hey.” I shushed him, pushing at him so I was able to sit up. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
He grew angry with himself, his breathing becoming laboured as he struggled to contain whatever emotion was running through him.
Swinging my legs over the bed, I hurriedly fastened my blouse back up. Anderson watched me, yet I could see the turmoil swirling in the depths of his angry green eyes.
“Listen to me.” I touched his cheek, making him turn to look at me. “Not here, Anderson. I can’t.” I sighed, trying to figure out how to word what I needed to say. “I’m your therapist. I’m abusing your trust here. Abusing my position.”
“No!” he said quickly, his head shaking wildly. His expression softened and he gave me a small smile. “I think I would like you to abuse me.”
“That.” I pointed to him. “That right there is why we can’t do this. Why I can’t do this. You have to concentrate on getting better, focus on yourself. This… this just confuses everything for you.”
“I’m not confused!” he argued, the tone of his voice making me aware he was telling the truth. “I want to feel myself inside you, Kloe Grant. I want to make you tremble and scream.”
I couldn’t hold back the smile and I blew out a breath. “Well, you definitely made me tremble.”
He grinned at me, his eyes lighting up.
“But that doesn’t make this right. You need help first. We can’t…” I finished the sentence with a shake of my head.
His smile dropped, and like a door abruptly closing, his face shuttered and he moved away from me. “I… I would like you to go now.”
“Anderson…”
“Go!”
I flinched. I’d ruined everything. Yet again.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered as I picked up my bag. “I…”
Giving up when I knew he’d shut me out, I quietly closed the door behind me.
I left something inside his room that day. At the time I wasn’t aware of what. And I wouldn’t find it again for a long time.
“JESUS, DAVE! HURRY UP, I’M freezing my ass off here.”
Dave had found what I could only presume was squirrel shit hiding in the undergrowth of a nearby park. It was late, frosty and bloody freezing and my dog decided he wanted to snort the evidently amazing delicacy that shot from the behinds of rodents with big bushy tails.
I’d had a shitty day – apart from a toe-curling kiss - and all I wanted was a long hot bath and a never-ending glass of wine.
“Dave!”
He finally snorted and trotted over to me, sitting down so I could attach his leash back on for our walk home.
Luckily it was only a short distance back to the house but even so, by the time we reached the end of the path I couldn’t feel my hands. I had no idea where the cold snap had suddenly come from. Yesterday had been a scorching day, and today had been miserable and rainy, hence why my feet were skidding on the wet pavement after the temperature had dropped.
I hadn’t heard from Ben since the party, and as much as I hated him for what he had done, I missed him. I missed the closeness that he brought whenever I’d had a rough day. We never actually talked about my job, but he could always see when I needed a distraction. Most of the time that distraction had involved sex but occasionally he was really considerate, taking me out and making me laugh, or even just scooping me up for a hug. Single life was lonely.
Dave’s bark snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked up.
My stomach twisted and my teeth sank into my lip when James smiled at me from my doorstep.
“Thought you were just ignoring me.”
Dave growled at him and I grinned sardonically. “I would have if I were in.”
He chuckled, the sound making my skin crawl. “Not a good idea, Kloe.” He watched me put the key in the lock. “Can I come in?”
“Do you have to?”
He shrugged. “Well, I have an offer you really can’t refuse.”
“Is it a gun?” I asked as I moved aside and reluctantly let him into the house.
Laughing, he sighed theatrically. “Now, now.”
He followed me through to the kitchen. I didn’t offer him a drink. Instead I turned to face him, my fingers digging into the worktop behind me. “Well?”
He tutted and shook his head. “Seems someone’s been a naughty girl.”
“Excuse me?” God, I hated him. Enough so that my eyes moved to the knife block to the right of me.
“Before all that,” he chirped with a sudden mood swing. “I have a proposition for you.”
“You’ve already said that.”
He nodded, another humourless laugh leaving him. I could almost feel the knife in the palm of my hand. “There’s an opening for a PTSD therapist available at our London branch.”
Stiffening, I narrowed my eyes on him. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Well, I just thought it might be suitable. For you.”
“Why? Why would I want to leave Derbyshire for London? I’m quite happy where I am.”
He nodded slowly then pulled out his iPad. “I thought you might say that.”
I watched him warily when he tapped away and then placed the tablet on the counter next to me.
My veins constricted, all the blood that filled them having nowhere to go but to my head. I felt faint. I felt sick. My legs wobbled. And James laughed. “Naughty girl.”
He’d put the recording on loop, the image of Anderson and me on his bed replaying over and over.
“Where did you get this?”
“Friends aren’t always who they appear to be, Kloe.” He tutted, swiping the iPad back. “Now. About that offer.”
Tears stung my eyes. My mind wouldn’t work and I couldn’t seem to think. My gut writhed and I had to swallow repeatedly to stop myself from vomiting.
“The thing is.” James sneered. “It’s a conflict of interest. If you stay, then… well Anderson has to go.”
My eyes bulged as I shook my head furiously. “But you can’t. There’s nowhere as good as Seven Oaks. Anderson’s progress will be hindered. Don’t punish him because of me!”
James just shrugged. “Then take up my offer. You should think yourself lucky I’m not terminating your contract. What you have done is grossly…”
“I know!” I hissed.
I was backed into a corner. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, allow Anderson to suffer. This wasn’t his fault. He’d grown too close and I should have seen that, cut it off as soon as I identified it.
I tensed when James patted my hand. “You needn’t come in tomorrow. I’ll get your belongings shipped to you, Kloe.”
“Why?” I whispered. “Why are you doing this?”
A tight smile curved his thick lips. He clicked his tongue then winked. “Because I can.”
I stared after him when he walked out.
“You’ll love
London, Kloe. Enjoy. But don’t come back.”
And I didn’t.
Six weeks later I kissed my friends goodbye, packed Dave into my car.
And left.
I looked back. I looked back many times. And all for the sake of one man.
Four years later
THE DEAFENING ROAR OF THE crowd. The sweet scent of blood. The formidable rush of adrenaline. The cold heat of fury and the delicious sting of pain. They all charged every one of my senses and made my heart beat faster than ever, harder than ever. Sweat splattered the floor, the crowd and my opponent, the sticky floor providing a grip for my bare feet, and the crushing lack of oxygen in the large room only provided a more overpowering need to finish quickly.
Only death would finish this. And it wouldn’t be mine.
I had more of a reason to win than my rival, than every single fighter that thought they could take me on. None of them were scared of death. And that made them weak, easy prey. Death terrified me. It was the only thing that haunted my nightmares – that and one other. I needed to live, hungered for it, to experience so much more than I had, and that gave me something to fight for, something to hit harder for, and produced a tremendous need within me to win.
Another cheer from the crowd when Dandy Waller (what kind of name was that anyway?) went down under the sweep of my foot.
His already dead eyes stared up at me when I dropped to straddle him and held him down under the sheer weight of my body. But when he could do no more than watch me bring my fists together over my head, the recognition of death flickered in his eyes and for the first time he struggled to keep living.
A smile crept over my face, the cruel expression accompanied with a mocking laugh as he tried to buck me off. But it was too late.
Both my fists hit his chest with so much force I felt the bone splinter under my strength. Another roar from the crowd with another strike, and another, and another, the thunderous shouts of my name fuelling me to keep going until nothing but blood and pulp remained of Dandy’s heart, the organ mutilated by the very bone designed to protect it. But nothing could protect the heart. Nothing.
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