And why not? In his worn-in leather jacket, dark wash jeans and a dark t-shirt pulled taut over the muscles of his broad chest, he was absolutely mouthwatering – just as she’d feared. She’d known the man would be quite the soldier from his file – but seeing him in the flesh was another matter entirely. He’d made her feel…small. Feminine. When the man had first come through the entryway to the offices to shake her hand, it had been one of the most intimidating events of her adult life.
When was the last time she had even contemplated the feelings he’d roused in her? Months…years? As far as Genny was concerned, she could push aside any and all evidence of her libido until she had time for it….but, to be honest, she almost never had time for such dalliance. Despite her policy on such things, however, her mind seemed to have no problem with painting decadent pictures of the lieutenant without a stitch of clothing on at the forefront of her mind when they were supposed to be having a session.
She, the queen of professionalism, was having issues reigning in her rampant sex drive with a particularly difficult patient. Attraction aside, the man fairly radiated the distaste for doctors that he’d professed was part of his personality the moment he’d gotten her alone. He was a rough character, with a deep, growling baritone that sent shivers down her spine and made her thighs clench.
Damned convenient when she was supposed to be psychiatrically assessing him.
In all her years of practice, Genevieve had never been more tested than when Lieutenant Sinclair had told her that she was attractive. That was the last thing she needed. It was enough trying to reign in her own hormones when the man smelled of heaven and dark spice; and atop that, she could tell that any progress she made with him was going to be a fight. She’d worked with his type before. Wary of doctors, with no desire to speak for fear that they would somehow inadvertently reveal their own lunacy.
There was nothing about the lieutenant that might suggest that he had lost his mind. There were, however, dark circles under his eyes that spoke of lack of sleep, and a rigidity to the way he carried himself that suggested that he never let his guard down. Both were classic symptoms of PTSD – but she didn’t mention any of this to her patient. Genevieve didn’t dare. She knew how much of a trial it must be for him to simply walk into the office. Instead, she learned about him by the important aspects of his life – mainly, his dog, Eddie.
The lieutenant was a nurturing soul. That much was evident in the fact that he’d adopted a puppy when he himself had been struggling to return to the world he’d once known. He hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own misery that he had overlooked what he’d perceived to be a creature in need. Men like Sinclair always felt the need to help those in need – it was why he’d come as far as he had. Why he’d been a Navy SEAL, why he’d been charged with the safety of each and every man who had followed him on covert missions.
But while Sinclair seemed perfectly content to deal with the woes of his dog – and to attach himself to the animal selflessly, he was also using the animal as a censor. As long as he concentrated on Eddie, he didn’t have to concentrate on the issues that plagued him. This was, of course, one of the main reasons why Genevieve wanted to meet the dog. It was clear from the way that Sinclair spoke of the canine that he adored him, but to see the way he acted around Eddie would be another matter entirely.
Genny would have liked to say that it was that particular issue that had been principal in her mind as she’d brought the session to a close. In truth, for the entire duration of the time that she’d been speaking with Lieutenant Sinclair, she’d tried not to think about the corded strength of his arms – the broadness of his shoulders and the fullness of a mouth turned down in a constant frown.
It was quite the ordeal – working on analyzing a closeted vet as she simultaneously questioned herself. Stella would probably flip a lid if she discovered Genevieve had taken a patient she was so obviously attracted to – but it was a bit late for such things at this juncture. She’d already signed all of the waivers and begun to hear the man’s story. She was already involved.
And the young psychiatrist had thought she was doing a pretty stand-up job of keeping her hands to herself where her new patient was concerned – at least, until he’d kissed her.
How the hell had she allowed such a thing to happen? She’d watched him draw closer to her – seen his hands reaching out to cup her face as his head lowered ever nearer to hers. She should have pushed him away. She wasn’t some green new doctor who didn’t know the boundaries between patients and personnel, and it wasn’t as if she’d never been tested before.
But, somehow, with Owen, she hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d fallen into the commanding feel of his mouth against hers. She wouldn’t have been able to draw the strength to refuse him if she’d tried. From the moment she’d locked eyes with the man in the waiting room, the heat between them had been nigh unbearable. Every time his green eyes locked with hers, heat flared through her body to pool at the crux of her legs and she had to keep from trembling at the tide of lust that consumed her.
At least, until he kissed her.
Then, all bets were off.
The man didn’t coax her – didn’t ease her into the gesture. No, his mouth was firm against hers – he demanded her body’s compliance with every thrust of his tongue past her lips. This was a man used to getting what he wanted – and never in her life had Genny experienced a man who took – who dominated her shuddering form the way this man did.
When he pulled her into his lap, not a single protest rose to her mind. She was letting her patient put his hands all over her when anyone could come knocking on the door and she hardly cared. All she knew was that she needed more.
Faster…Hotter…
When she should have shoved out of his arms – when his fingers peeled her skirt upwards to expose her underwear before palming her behind possessively – she merely moaned, clinging to him. She could do nothing else. It was as if the man had turned her into his willing slave; and at that juncture, Genevieve didn’t think that she’d be so opposed to him tying her up and having his way with her – but then, the moment had been shattered.
The lieutenant’s phone buzzed in his pocket, the sound jerking her back to reality, and the full weight of what Genevieve had done began to overtake her.
Shit.
She had never been one to curse, but she could hardly come up with a better term for the situation she found herself in. She was in the Lieutenant’s lap, pressed against the hard column of his chest – with something much harder and more insistent between them.
Dear God, she must have lost her mind.
She had never done anything like this with a patient – she was practically the poster child for maintaining the boundaries of space between patients and doctors. As emotionally involved as she sometimes became…she never got…physically involved. Not like this.
In the moment it took her to catch her breath – Owen checked his phone, frowning, before tossing it aside onto the sofa next to them. “Now…where were we?” When his heated green gaze turned back to her, it took every fiber of Genny’s being not to simply melt against him and let him resume his slow, thorough seduction.
Instead, she tried to regain as much dignity as she possibly could, sliding from the man’s lap as she lowered the skirt of her dress back to its proper place. Her cheeks flaming, she smoothed the mussed curls that Owen had tugged from their bun before dropping back into the chair opposite him. Heated blood rushed through her veins, and her body cried for succor.
But this….this wasn’t the way to answer it.
At her patient’s inquiring glance, Genevieve cleared her throat. She had no idea how she was going to recover from this, but she was damn well going to try. “I’m…I’m sorry, Owen. Please forgive me.”
He blinked, staring at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Forgive you?” His voice was still hoarse with want, his large body tense against the sofa. “What the hell for?”
&n
bsp; “I shouldn’t have let you do that…I shouldn’t have allowed things to go so far.” She took a steadying breath, trying not to remember the intimate feel of his mouth against hers – how hard his body had been between her legs. “This…this was a mistake.”
With a frustrated sigh, the man before her ran a hand through his dark hair, a frown cutting through his features. “Christ, Doc. It wasn’t your fault. Why the hell would you-”
“I’m still at fault.” She cut him off lowly – pointedly. “I’m a doctor, and you’re supposed to be my patient.”
“Let’s be real, Genevieve.” When Owen spoke again, his words were sarcastic – cutting. “If I was your patient, that shit wouldn’t have happened. I know how this goes. I come here a few times, you work your way into my past and my fears…and you try to fix me. I can tell you now that it’s not going to work. Especially not when I want you so goddamn bad I’m willing to take you right in the middle of your office.”
His words sent a thrill of arousal down her spine, making her ache at her very core. Even as he ignited the flames of her desire, however, the man stood, his expression severe. “This was a mistake, and I’m sorry to have wasted both of our time.”
Genevieve watched, utterly nonplussed, as the immense man yanked the door open to stalk back down the hallway and out of sight.
In the moments after he’d gone, she was assailed by all manner of emotions. Guilt, disappointment, relief, longing – but most of all, she felt as if she’d failed. Dr. Bradley had referred this one case to her because he had thought she’d be able to help the man where no one else had. Instead, she’d merely ended up on his lap, wanting him inside her more badly than she’d ever wanted anything in her entire life.
Christ…what the hell was wrong with her?
“Dear God, Genny. You can’t be serious.”
Wincing, Genevieve gazed up at Stella as she sipped from her strawberry daiquiri. When she’d mentioned to her friend that she had something urgent that she needed to speak with her about, of course, Stella hasn’t hesitated. She’d been right there when Genny wanted to vent about Dr. Kant in the wake of Spencer McAvoy’s death, and now, here she was again.
Only this time, the news Genevieve had to share was of a decidedly different nature.
“He kissed you.”
Genevieve’s eyes squeezed shut as she tried to block out the image of Lieutenant Owen Sinclair yanking her into his lap to mold his mouth to hers in the most devastating way. Though she’d been trying all afternoon to convince herself that what she had done was wrong – that she could lose her job, let alone her peace of mind, she couldn’t bring herself to forget the way he’d held her.
Like he owned her.
“I let him kiss me, Stella.” The two women were in a bar they often frequented after work, and with the volume of the music and other patrons around them, they were free to speak in relative privacy. “I could have stopped him, but I didn’t.”
“Who is this guy?” The red-head drew on her own straw before munching on a few of the chips they’d been provided with. Instead of judgmental, her expression was, instead, cautious. Understanding. And for that, Genevieve was grateful. She didn’t think she could handle judgement right now. She was judging herself pretty harshly.
“I can’t say much about him. He’s an outside referral and I signed confidentiality agreements but, Stella…he’s…he’s…” She struggled for words to describe the large, brash former SEAL. Powerful? Intense? Intimidating? None of those seemed like enough to define the presence he exuded when he entered a room.
“Handsome?” Stella tried, a brow raised. “Mysterious? Intriguing?”
“He’s hurt.” Genny returned, her full mouth turning downward. “Suffering. And I can’t help him if all I can think of when we’re in the same room is…mauling him.”
Stella’s brows inched ever closer to her hairline. “Mauling him? As in…” Green eyes widened to the size of saucers. “No. Genny….you like him.”
“I don’t even know him.” The dark-skinned woman rushed to recover. “Only what’s in his file. It’s pure physical attraction!”
“Must be some attraction if you let him manhandle you right in your office.” It was on the tip of Genevieve’s tongue to correct her – to assert that the Lieutenant hadn’t hurt her – but when she thought about it, the words faded from her lips. There was no other word for what he had done. While it was obvious that he hadn’t harmed her physically, she didn’t know what else she could possibly call the man lifting her from her chair and into his lap to kiss her breathless.
Manhandling.
“Christ.” Stella took another sip of her drink. “Must be some man. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you this flustered over a guy…have you ever been this flustered over a guy?”
Genny sighed, merely shaking her head. “Not that I know of. You know me, Stella. Work is my number one. It comes before anything else.”
“So what is this guy? Work….or something different?”
That was a question Genevieve didn’t know how to answer. She had assumed that when the Lieutenant had stormed from her office that he was gone for good. They hadn’t made another appointment, and she was almost certain that the…chemistry between them would make it impossible to work together.
Especially after that kiss.
“I don’t know. Stella, I’ve never lost a patient before. I’m not exactly sure how to handle this. Doctor Bradley referred him to me. Now I’m going to have to call him and tell him I couldn’t help the patient he handpicked for me?” It wasn’t a conversation she would relish having. There was already enough pressure on women in her field for the stress that patients often brought to the table. Stress that tended to affect women psychiatrists more flagrantly than it did males. While Genny usually didn’t have any huge issues, Owen Sinclair was stirring up problems she never thought she’d have to contend with.
“Did he say he wasn’t coming back?” The dark-skinned woman stared at Stella, her expression miserable.
“He apologized for wasting both of our time. I think that’s a fair indicator that he doesn’t want to return.”
“Well, then. Go to him.” Stella popped a few peanuts into her mouth as her face turned thoughtful. “I mean…I think it’s pretty obvious that the whole office, one-on-one atmosphere isn’t quite working out with him. Too much privacy, maybe. You need to meet him on level ground. Somewhere where he’ll be comfortable. He sounds like a man against the very idea of what we stand for. He doesn’t like doctors, am I right?”
Genevieve nodded. “So then he won’t like hospitals or doctors’ offices. There will be other places where the two of you can meet – places less private than a tiny little office. Then intimacy won’t be a factor…and he’ll be more likely to speak on what’s troubling him.”
She had a point.
Genevieve had only ever taken a few sessions out of the office before. For confidentiality reasons, her patients usually liked the safety of the white room with its little white couch. But, Stella was right. A man like Owen Sinclair needed something different. Something more robust. Setting her jaw, the young woman took a long drag on her drink, emptying half of her glass in a single swallow.
She had tackled hundreds of challenges during her career. Tough patients who had threatened their own lives as well as hers. She’d been taken hostage, browbeaten, spent long hours in the office and worked herself to the point of unhealthiness to ensure that her patients received the care they needed and deserved.
And now she was shying away from a man she had let kiss her?
What was the matter with her? She was better than this. She could handle Owen Sinclair – and she would prove it to him as well as to herself.
**
“Can’t believe you, Owen.”
Sitting in his back yard, Owen held a cold beer against his aching jaw. It had taken him two days to work up the courage to talk to his CO and tell him what had happened at Riperton. Of course, S
ean had promptly driven over to speak with him. Before anything else, however, the slightly larger man had slugged him across the jaw – this, his current situation.
Now, they both rested in lounge chairs, watching Eddie drag his favorite toy around the backyard. The chocolate colored Rottweiler raced around the backyard in a fit of happiness, shaking a brightly-hued squeaky toy back and forth. Beside Owen, Sean took a long swallow of his beer. At six seven, he was built similarly to Owen, only darker-skinned, with his raven hair buzzed in the customary military high and tight. Even in a dark polo and khakis, the man was unmistakably military. He had an undying devotion to the SEALs, and when Owen had asked for early retirement, the two of them had begun a battle of the ages.
A battle they still waged.
“That woman was your last hope. Fucking had her hand-picked for you by a buddy of mine…and you tried to get in her pants.”
Owen snorted, raising his beer from the side of his face to take a swig. “You knew she was a woman. You didn’t tell me.”
“That doesn’t make you any less of a pendejo.” Sean cut his eyes at the man by his side. The captain’s Hispanic heritage always came out when he was pissed off. “You tried to seduce your goddamn psychiatrist, Owen. I thought you didn’t even like doctors.”
“I don’t.” Owen grumbled, setting his beer down as Eddie slid to a stop in front of him, placing his beloved squeaky toy in a heap at the lieutenant’s feet. For a moment, Owen allowed himself to grin down at the panting dog, who looked up at him expectantly. He reached over onto the table between he and Sean to retrieve Eddie’s water bowl, setting it on the ground. Immediately, the canine dove in nose-first, sloshing half of the water out of the bowl before getting around to actually drinking it. Owen rubbed his neck and back vigorously, reveling in the strength of the dog’s limbs. Eddie could run for hours and never tire – it seemed he had limitless energy.
Saving the Seal: A BWWM Navy Seal Interracial Romance Page 4