Best of 2017

by Alexa Riley

  I need more. So much more.

  “Please,” I beg and he answers my pleas by crawling up my body.

  A ragged gasp echoes through the room. His fingers are the catalyst for my frantic desire. His hand slips between us, aligning himself with my core.

  Urgency fills my blood. The need to feel him inside me is all I can think of.

  Greedily, I grab at his hard length, teasing my sensitive skin.

  He pushes forward, and when he enters me, he takes my breath away.

  My head falls back on the pillow, and my lids flutter shut as he takes me over and over again.

  With each push and pull, I lose myself more to the feeling.

  “Open your eyes. I want to see you. I want to see all of you.”

  As they flutter open again, I get lost in a sea of blue. The entire world drifts away.

  Through gasps and shudders, the connection is broken. Through trembles and sobs we hold each other. My body clamps around him.

  His hands dig deeper into my flesh as his whole body jerks inside me.

  Preston leans in and kisses the soft hollow of my neck, soft lips, tantalizing tongue.

  “I keep doing this, and I feel like I’m taking advantage of you. I want you, I want you more than you will ever know, but this was supposed to be about more than my pleasure. This was supposed to be about me helping you.”

  “You did. By being here. By opening up. By telling me your story. Every part of you that you gave me, helped me.” He looks away from me. “What is it, Preston?” He won’t look at me. “Just tell me.”

  “Eve.”

  “No, you don’t get to Eve me. Not after that. You know it meant something. You know it meant more. Can you see that?”

  “We still can’t be together. I’m your doctor.”

  “You’re not my doctor anymore.”

  “Semantics.”

  “How can you say that after everything? What we have, it means more than that. How can you push me away now? Are you scared? Is that it? Scared of what I could become? That I could be like her? Because of my father.”

  “I am scared. But not of that. I’m scared of everything else, all that we have done, and everything you’ve learned, it would be all for nothing if I do this. If we continue down this path. Even though you’re no longer my patient, that doesn’t mean I won’t get in trouble if we’re found out. I could still lose my license to practice. I wouldn’t be able to volunteer at the hospital anymore. I wouldn’t be able to help people. And to be honest after, what we just found out about your father, this is even a stronger case for transference. Between losing Richard and now the repressed memory surfacing of your father, you could be unknowingly projecting your feelings of abandonment to me. You could be looking for an older figure to protect you and until you, know you’re not, that it’s not transference you’re feeling, we can’t.”

  “Please don’t let me go. You’re all I have.”

  “But that’s the problem. I can’t be your crutch. You need to learn to hold yourself up.” His words hang in the air. They steal the oxygen like a poisonous gas, slowly killing pieces of me.

  “So, now what?” I say, still lying in his arms. Our hearts still beat in tandem.

  “We go back to the way it was before.”

  “And how was that?

  “Me wishing every day that I could rewrite history, and that I never walked into the hospital for work that day.”

  I have wishes too, but mine I won’t speak . . . Say I’m enough. Sacrifice for me. Fight for me. Wait for me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  PRESTON

  I HAVEN’T SEEN Eve for three weeks and I’m miserable. So fucking miserable that basically all I’ve done since I told her we couldn’t be together is work and be completely anti-social.

  I finally successfully pushed her away and severed our professional and personal relationship, and I should feel relief for it, but I don’t. Instead, she’s all I think about, day and night. I feel all the things I thought I would never feel again. All the things I tried to shut out all these years after I lost Sloane. But this is different. It’s so much worse, because the way I feel for her is so much more.

  With my glass of scotch in my hand, I flop my body on the couch. Just as I start to relax, my phone vibrates across the coffee table. I know who it will be. It’s going to be Jace. I peer down and low and behold, I’m right. It’s him. Since I haven’t been to the last three Sunday night dinners it’s no wonder he’s calling. Avoiding my family like the plague has obviously not gone unnoticed.

  “What,” I answer, not even pretending to hide my attitude. I’m not in the mood for a lecture about how Mom wants to see me again. That was last week’s call. I know already.

  “What the hell is up your ass?” Everything.

  “Nothing.”

  “Is this about that girl?”

  “She’s not “that” girl. She’s not some girl,” I blurt out before I realize what I’m saying. Shit. Now he’s going to ask questions.

  “Okay, spill. It’s time to tell me what the hell is going on with you?”

  “I met a girl.” I let out a deep ragged breath. “It’s more than that, though.”

  “I’m listening,”

  “She was my patient.” There I said it, the truth is finally out there. No more avoiding the truth. Now all I can do is brace for his response, for his judgment.

  “Fuck.”

  “Yep.”

  “So now what are you going to do?” There’s nothing in his voice but concern, and it make my shoulders drop in relief. It’s bad enough losing Eve, but having Jace disapprove would have sucked right now.

  “I had to let her go.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “I want more,” I admit on a sigh.

  “Yeah, I can see how that could be a problem. I understand, but don’t you think some things are worth risking everything for? I don’t know who this girl is but if she’s the one Logan won’t stop talking about, I would say she’s worth it.” She is.

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Well other then the obvious, her being a former patient and all, there’s also the small problem of Sloane.”

  “What about her?”

  “Well maybe I’m suffering from counter-transference?” I whisper. I can still hear Eve’s words replaying in my head. Was this because of Sloane? Was Eve some sick sort of replacement?

  “I think it’s time you go back and start speaking to someone again. The fact that you’re even considering that, means you aren’t over what happened. I think this girl is special. I think that she might be worth risking it for, but you’ll never know until you face your issues about Sloane.”

  He’s right. I have to. When Sloan died, it left a stain on my soul, one that years later has still not left me. Sloane called the day she overdosed. I was mad at her, so I sent her to voicemail. She needed me and I didn’t answer. I should have seen the signs. I should have answered the phone. That decision still haunts me every day. And although I don’t believe my feelings for Eve are misguided, I still need to find out. I need to know, not just for me but for Eve as well.

  THERAPISTS REALLY DO MAKE the worst patients. Sitting here waiting for Dr. Audrey Kenner to speak is agonizing. I’m ready to bolt out the door, when I finally see her pull out her notebook and turn to me.

  “Why are you here? You haven’t seen me in quite some time. Did something happen?”

  I consider what to say. I can’t tell her about Eve. Or at least I can’t divulge that she was a patient, so I come as close to the truth as I can without stepping over the edge.

  “I met a girl.” My teeth gnaw at my lip as I determine how to proceed. “She looks like Sloane and she’s been through a lot. She’s . . .troubled. I’m afraid my feelings might be misplaced.”

  “Do you think you are falling for her in an attempt to heal her, to fix her the way you weren’t able to fix Sloane?”
<
br />   “I’m not sure.”

  “When did you start having these feelings for her?”

  “I always thought she was beautiful, but when I saw her, the real her, I knew she was more than a pretty face.”

  “And when was that?”

  “When she made my nephew smile.”

  “I think you just answered your own question, Preston.” I quirk my brow at her and wait for her to continue. “You didn’t fall for her because she was weak, you fell for her compassion, her strength, her resilience. When she was able to put her own sadness aside and put your nephew first.”

  She was right. Everything she said was right. This was more than Sloane. I fell for her . . . I’m in love with her.

  “I have to go.” I need to tell her.

  “Preston. I’d like to talk to you a little about Sloane now, actually. If you can give me a few more minutes, I’m a little concerned about this. It’s been years since you came to me and spoke about this. You became a therapist because of her, but at what point is it enough? At what point do you forgive yourself and stop punishing yourself for not seeing the signs? You were a kid. You were still in school. You weren’t a psychologist then, so how could you have known? How could you have saved her? It’s been years. You really have to stop punishing yourself and live your life. Be happy. She would have wanted that for you.”

  She’s right. I do. I know exactly how to do that. I need to allow myself to be happy.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  EVE

  JOURNAL ENTRY

  Was he right? Am I projecting my feelings, my abandonment issues, my need for comfort with him. No, I don’t believe that. I won’t believe that. It might have started that way, but that doesn’t mean that’s what it is. It doesn’t matter where you start, it’s where you end up. Maybe the initial attraction started in the wrong place, but when your heart grows to love someone it doesn’t make it any less real. Right?

  This has been all I’ve been thinking about for the last three weeks. Even as time passes, I can’t stop wondering if he’s right. That this is how it started. I’m lying in bed when my phone rings. It’s late on a Friday night, Sydney is out, and I’m sulking in my room. Picking it up, I check the caller ID.

  Holy shit, it’s Preston.

  “Hello?”

  “Where are you? I need to speak to you.” My stomach bottoms out. Why is he so desperate to see me, to speak to me? Did something happen?

  “I’m home. Are you okay?”

  “I need to see you.”

  “Can you tell me what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

  “I’m coming over. I’ll see you—”

  “No.” I cut him off. I hop out of bed and head out of the room. “I’ll come to you.” I hang up.

  WHEN I KNOCK on the door, he flings it open.

  “What’s going on? Why were you so desperate—” He pulls me toward him and seizes my mouth with his. I push at his chest to separate us.

  “Stop it. What are you doing?” I pant, trying to catch my breath.

  “Did I lose you, Eve?”

  “What are you talking about? Why am I here? What did you need to say that was so important?”

  “I needed to tell you I love you, that I don’t want to lose you. That I’ll give up everything to be with you. I lost you before. I’m not willing to lose you again.”

  “No, Preston.” I step to turn away.

  “Where are you going?” he asks as he pulls me closer.

  “I’m doing the right thing, I’m saving you from yourself right now.”

  “Fuck the right thing.”

  “But you said before you would be ruined.”

  “I know what I said, and I don’t give a shit. I need you. I need to touch you. I need to taste you. I need to feel the heaven I know your body encompasses. And most of all, I need to love you. There are not enough words to tell you how wrong I was. You’re not some girl. You’re not just a forbidden desire. Don’t you see what you are?”

  “No.”

  “God. You’re everything. We’re everything . . . Together. When I’m with you, everything is possible. I never thought I would meet somebody who would make me feel this way. After Sloane, relationships were not an option, but with you it’s so much more. With you, the possibilities are limitless. Love, breathe, smile, laugh . . . I can’t do these things without you, and I would never want to.”

  I want to cry, but mostly I want to forgive him and jump into his arm and never let him go.

  “Everything I said was wrong. Everything but I love you. Because no matter where we are or what we become, that love will always be right,” Preston declares.

  “But what about—”

  “I don’t give a damn about any of it. I’d walk out this door right now hand in hand with you if it meant you would be mine, that we’d be together.”

  “What about your career? What about your patients?”

  “You are my only concern. I don’t give a fuck if I lose my job, my practice. I don’t give a shit if I lose everything, as long as I don’t lose you. I have spent the last few months torturing myself to fight this feeling, and then I had you. If I thought it was bad before, now that I know what you’re like, I can’t give you up. I would rather give up my work. I would rather find something else to do. I could work for my—”

  “No. I can’t let you do that.” I cut him off. “You love helping people. It’s what gives you joy. I would never take that away from you. I won’t let you do that.”

  “Try to stop me. I love you, only you, forever you . . .” Preston’s lips find mine, his soft tongue delving inside my mouth. At first it’s soft, loving. But as the seconds pass, our mouths collide in a frenzy.

  Desperate.

  Passionate.

  My arms wrap around his neck of their own accord. A primal and desperate need to intensify the kiss.

  I know it’s wrong. I know I need to leave but I allow myself to be swept away. I let myself believe one more time that this is just a dream and we can be happy together.

  He grins and pulls me closer. ”I love you.” A fingertip traces across my jaw. I wrap my hands in his disheveled hair.

  Kissing.

  We move together as if we are one being.

  I let go of any resistance or argument still seeking refuge in my body. Instead, I cling to him. He reaches for me, pulling me into his arms. Soft fingers turn my chin up. I soften my body into his as he hovers close, our lips almost touching.

  His breath caresses my lips.

  “Do you love me?” he asks through heavy pants.

  “Yes. I’m in love with you. It’s you . . . It’s always been you.” He is everything. My air, my soul.

  Taking a step back, my fingers trail along his shirt. One by one I unfasten each small button. Then I slide my hand down to the belt of his pants. The material hits the floor. The sound echoes as I wait for him to undress me.

  His hands find the hem of my dress and lift it up, and when he reaches my panties, he pulls it aside and swipes his finger against my core.

  Teasing.

  But his fingers don’t continue the ministrations. Instead, he lifts the material over my head, exposing my almost naked body to him.

  Blue eyes sweep across me. They dilate and flash with hunger.

  He groans as he pulls me closer. We are so close that I feel his heartbeat against my chest.

  “I need you.” Rough hands. Fingers unsnap my bra. “It’s been an eternity since I felt you against me, since I’ve been buried inside you.” My panties are next, leaving me completely bare to him. With a force I didn’t expect, he mutters out one more word and then his mouth descends. Claiming me. Owning me. I answer him with my own desperation, frenzied and hot.

  Desperate and needy for more. With one last sweep of the tongue our bodies separate on pants and gasps.

  Light as a feather, Preston lifts me up, cradling me until we reach his room.

  He covers his body with mine, letting me lead. Allow
ing me the control. My tongue jets out and licks at the seam of his lips. Then I pull back, nipping as I go. A moan of protest escapes him, but I just give him a coy smile as I press kisses down his neck and over his torso to the V of his abdomen. With each inch I travel, Preston’s breath becomes more ragged. Each pull of oxygen becomes harder to take in. When I reach my desired destination, I find him hard and ready. My tongue sweeps against him, eliciting a string of curses and groans.

  “Fuck.” He pulls back, and I look at him through hooded eyes. “I need to be inside you.” Crawling back up his body, I align him with my core and then slowly sink down. A feeling of power weaves through me as I take him fully. Once he’s all the way seated, my hips begin to circle, and then I rock up and down.

  Nothing has ever felt this good.

  Flipping me onto my back, he thrusts in and out of my body. My nails scratch at his shoulders as I brace for each push and pull of his body. He slams in over and over again, moving his hips at a faster clip. Strong hands catch my chin.

  “Look at me.” We both climb toward release together. I’m breathless.

  Ragged bursts escape. Our movements become frantic. Grabbing. Thrusting. Panting.

  Gasps.

  He makes love to me like a desperate man. Like a starved man. Like a man trying to take possession of me. Like a man trying to own me. My body shivers and quakes as he pulls out and then enters me again. “I,” slam “Fucking love you.” slam “You’re mine.” He thrusts in deeper. “Do you understand? I don’t care how, but you’re mine.”

  At this moment, in this bed, I give myself to him fully. My body contracts and pulses around him, just as his whole body jerks with his own climax.

  “God,” he shouts out his release. “You belong to me. This connection will never break. You will always be mine.”

  SOMETIMES, even though it will hurt beyond measure, you have to do the right thing. As I look at him from across the bed, I realize that’s what I need to do. As much as I see the future, as much as I can see myself in an all-consuming love with him; as much as I envision that together with him my panic attacks will fade and my nightmares will turn to dreams, I can’t do it.