Secrets Vol 2

by DeSalvo-Hamre-Knight-Paul

  296 Doreen DeSalvo

  him, and even though she didn't move far, he hated the distance. He'd wanted to stay inside her for just a little while longer. Hell, he wanted to stay inside her forever.

  When she touched his cheek, he opened his eyes, found her gazing at him with a dazed expression on her face. He probably looked about the same. But he couldn't think of a thing to say, and he couldn't look away.

  She stroked his cheek, his neck, his chest, tracing a slow path down his torso. He caught her wandering hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss, then teased her delicate little fingers with the tip of his tongue. She gasped, but she didn't pull away. He kissed and nibbled and tasted until every inch of her hand had been touched. Just kissing her hand turned him on. Unbelievable. In another minute, he'd be ready to make love to her again.

  He held her hand against his chest, rubbing at the dampness his mouth had left. His own hand covered hers completely. "You have such tiny hands," he mused. Damn, he'd better keep a lid on those loverlike comments.

  She moved away a little, and he looked into her eyes. She looked serious. Anxious. Maybe she wasn't ready for more lovemaking, and didn't know how to tell him.

  He patted her hand reassuringly. "What is it, Sarah?"

  "I don't know exactly how to say it. But I want to thank you."

  Gratitude? God, he didn't want gratitude from her. "You don't have to thank me."

  She smiled, a little feebly. "I know you're just doing your job, but you've helped me so much, and it...it means a lot to me."

  Just doing your job. She said it so casually, as if he didn't have any feelings at all. As if she didn't expect him to. As if she didn't want him to. "I'm glad I've helped you." His voice sounded hollow. He swallowed, but the painful lump didn't ease. "I want to make you happy. I want you to be happy," he corrected, before she got the wrong idea. Before she realized he'd told the truth the first time.

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  "And now I have a shot at happiness," she said. "Thanks to you."

  Happiness with some other man. A man who wouldn't have to let her go. Someone like that damned ex-boyfriend of hers.

  "You were right about fantasies," she said.

  He froze, feeling as if his heart had skipped a beat. He didn't want to know. He really didn't. "What were you imagining?" Good, his voice had sounded casual, almost teasing.

  "You'll think I'm silly."

  "Never."

  "I imagined that it was my first time," she said softly.

  Thank God she hadn't imagined another man. Well, maybe she had. Maybe that was why she'd kept her eyes closed. But at least she hadn't told him so. "You should have let me know earlier. I could have helped."

  "Helped? How?"

  He wasn't about to admit his own fantasy, so similar to her own. "I could have played along. Treated you gently, calmed your fears, moved more slowly."

  She looked surprised, as if the thought of sharing her fantasies with her lover had never occurred to her. "You would do that for me?"

  "Of course." It's part of my job.

  She gave him a sweet smile. "You're a wonderful man, Adrian."

  "Thanks." What else could he say? If, by some wild chance, she was becoming attached to him, he shouldn't encourage her. But God, how he wanted to. He wanted to haunt her dreams, to fill her mind at every waking moment, to make her compare every man she saw to him and find them all lacking. He wanted her to feel bound to him, the way he felt bound to her. When had he become such a selfish bastard? Her needs were all that mattered. And he needed to let her go, let her find a man she felt more than gratitude for.

  But not yet. He'd let her go, but not just yet. He'd give himself the rest of the night. The shower. The couch. Maybe he'd keep her here all night, wake up beside her in the morning. She wouldn't get

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  much sleep, though. Not with a selfish bastard like him.

  ******************

  Dr. Lansing was with a patient when Adrian arrived. He sat down in the deserted waiting room and picked up a magazine, gazing blankly at the pages while he thumbed through it. He tried to read a page, but his mind refused to concentrate. He tossed the magazine back down. No sense in pretending.

  He stood up and paced around the room. What could he say to Dr. Lansing? Falling for a patient was the worst thing a therapist could do. He hated to disappoint her, knew she'd be furious with him. But as Sarah's primary therapist, she needed to know. And if he told her, there wouldn't be any way he could go on seeing Sarah. Once Dr. Lansing knew, he'd have to give up all these crazy fantasies of having a relationship with Sarah.

  The door to the inner office opened, and a tall young man came out. He nodded as he passed Adrian on his way out of the waiting room.

  Adrian took a deep breath. This felt like facing a firing squad. Confession had damn well better be good for the soul.

  He walked into the inner office. Dr. Lansing sat behind her desk, writing in a small appointment book. She didn't look up.

  "Good morning, Adrian. I'll just be a moment."

  "Take your time, Dr. Lansing." He sat down in one of the chairs facing her desk. How could he tell her? This woman had known him through all his years of college, had been his mentor. Hell, even after all these years, he still called her Dr. Lansing.

  She put her pen down, then took off her reading glasses and looked at him. "What's the matter, Adrian?"

  She'd always been able to read him like a book. How could he put this delicately? "I've been having a small problem with Sarah."

  She frowned a little, looking concerned. "What's the problem?"

  "I seem to have lost my objectivity about her."

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  "Lost your objectivity? How?" Her voice was gentle, probing.

  "I think...I seem to have... I think I'm in love with her," he blurted out.

  Her frown cleared, and incredibly, she smiled. "That isn't unusual, though, is it? You always fall a little in love with your patients. It's what makes you such a good therapist."

  "No. No, this time it's different. I've crossed over the line." He raked a hand through his hair.

  "Have you discussed your feelings with Sarah?"

  "God, no. I haven't been that stupid." He'd come close, though. Last night had been hellish.

  "Then how have you crossed the line?"

  She looked so sympathetic, but it wouldn't last. Not once she knew. He took a deep breath. "I've been treating her like she's my lover. Like she's my girlfriend." Might as well lay it all out. "When I'm with her, I've been indulging my own private fantasies."

  "Does Sarah know?"

  He shrugged. "I haven't told her anything, but she must realize that I'm treating her differently than all my other patients."

  Her eyebrows shot up at that. "How could she know? You're the only surrogate she's seen. And really, Adrian, as long as she doesn't know, there isn't much harm in it."

  He couldn't believe this. "Didn't you hear me? I've been taking advantage of a patient. Using her to satisfy my own needs."

  "Have you satisfied her needs as well?"

  He felt heat rise in his face. Damn. Discussing intimate acts with Dr. Lansing had never embarrassed him before. "Yes."

  "And?" That encouraging tone made him want to tell her everything, every detail.

  He forced himself to meet her gaze, resisting the urge to duck his head like a naughty child. "She's able to climax," he managed to say.

  "Easily?"

  God, yes. "As easily as most women."

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  "Then you've done your usual exemplary job," she said. "Sarah's overcome a difficult problem, with your help."

  She made it sound so simple. Just another exemplary job. So why did he feel torn up inside? "I don't think I can let her go," he admitted. "This morning, I tried to tell her that she didn't need to see me anymore. I just couldn't do it."

  "How does Sarah feel about you?"

&nbs
p; If only he knew. Well, he did know, he just didn't want to admit it. "She's fond of me. I think it's the usual case of misplaced affection. Mild transference, nothing more."

  "Then you know what you should do."

  He nodded. "Let go. For her own good." And he would let go. For her. Even if it damn near killed him.

  "Do you think she'll be hurt when you tell her you can't treat her anymore?"

  No more than he would. Probably a lot less, actually, since she had the ex-boyfriend to fall back on. "I'll minimize the damage. Let her down gently. I've done it before." But he'd never felt this way before. For Sarah's sake, though, he'd force himself to do it.

  Dr. Lansing picked up a notepad. "Why don't you act like this is just another case. Tell me about Sarah's progress. Give me a report."

  She wanted a report. Somehow, he had to force himself to get clinical. Focus. Detach himself. "The first orgasm was a breakthrough for her. Once she realized she was physically capable, the mental barriers didn't work anymore."

  Dr. Lansing nodded while she wrote. "I suspected as much. Do you think she'll have any difficulty with other partners?"

  Pain hit his chest, a fiery, burning sensation. Like a corkscrew in his heart, piercing, twisting deep. The thought of Sarah with another man.. ......the thought of another man seeing those beautiful breasts, touching them, kissing them.. .oh, God. Maybe she'd keep her eyes open for him. Maybe she'd want to see his face while they made love.

  "Adrian?"

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  He coughed, covering up the dryness in his throat, the dampness in his eyes. "No," he choked out. He coughed again. "No, she knows what she needs. But she might be too shy to ask for it." And an insensitive creep might not take the time to discover what she needed.

  "I'll encourage her to be more vocal. Any residual shame issues?"

  "No. Although she is experimenting with fantasies, and some of them might trouble her." And he wouldn't be there to show her how fulfilling an active imagination could be.

  "I'll talk to her about the fantasies." Dr. Lansing laid down the notepad and looked at him. "I think you should talk to me again. After you say goodbye to Sarah."

  "There's nothing to say. I'm quitting. You won't have to worry about me."

  She kept that non-committal therapist expression on her face. "Don't make that decision while you're upset. You're too good of a therapist to quit."

  He clenched his hands. Was this some kind of test, like the ethics scenarios she'd given students in her classes? "I've committed a breach of ethics. How can you even suggest I continue to see patients?"

  "Being a surrogate is a difficult form of therapy, Adrian. It's surprising that this didn't happen sooner."

  Ah, but he hadn't had a patient like Sarah before. "I've taken advantage of a patient. A vulnerable patient. A woman who trusted me with her emotional health."

  "And you've done nothing but help her," Dr. Lansing insisted. "Sarah has problems with guilt and shame, but emotionally she's very strong. I think she has a great deal of ego strength- Besides, she doesn't know how you feel, and you aren't going to see her in an unprofessional capacity. No harm done."

  No harm done. At least not to Sarah.

  "Just take some time off," Dr. Lansing went on in a tone that ordered more than suggested. "Finish writing that book of yours."

  "I will." He stood up. "Thank you, Dr. Lansing."

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  She looked surprised. "No need to thank me, Adrian."

  "Anyone else would have demanded my head on a platter."

  "You seemed determined to hand it to me. But what would I do with it?" She walked around the desk, and he held out his hand to shake hers.

  She took his hand, then pulled him into a light hug. Surprised, he stiffened for a second, then relaxed and hugged her back.

  When they released each other, she was smiling. "You're a good therapist, Adrian. In a little while, you'll have everything under control again."

  "I hope so." More than hoped. He prayed so.

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  Chapter Four

  Adrian glanced up at the clock. The hands had barely moved. Still ten more minutes before Sarah would arrive.

  He pushed his chair away from the desk, stood up and paced to the window. Might as well watch for her, since he couldn't get any work done. The street below was crowded, a sea of people, some milling about aimlessly, some walking quickly, trying to dash around the window shoppers.

  He caught a glint of golden hair across the street. Sarah. Amazing that he recognized her instantly, especially from this distance, from this far above her. He watched her check the addresses of the buildings she passed, then cross the street. She'd be out of sight when she got closer. He leaned against the window, trying to keep her in view for as long as possible.

  She'd be here in a minute. He should pretend to work. Or at least sit down, so that he couldn't take her in his arms. No, he wouldn't do that. Never again. His relationship with Sarah was over. In his mind, he'd already given her up. Now all he had to do was tell her.

  He sat down behind his desk and picked up a pen, as if he'd been writing in the folder that lay open on his desk. But he stared at the door, waiting.

  A soft knock came. He stood up, then sat back down. He couldn't open the door for her. If he did, she might hug him, and then he wouldn't be able to let her go.

  "Come in," he called.

  She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "Hi." She

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  smiled at him, a soft, shy smile. A smile he'd never see again, not after today.

  He kept a smile on his face, even though his jaw ached from the effort. "Have a seat."

  She crossed to the desk slowly, giving him plenty of time to notice the way her loose, long dress swayed around her legs as she walked. What he wouldn't give to see those legs bare again, to spend just one more night wrapped in them. No. No, he had to tell her. He had to. Now.

  She sat down in one of the client chairs facing his desk, hiding those luscious legs from his view. "I didn't know you had an office."

  Did she think he did all of his work in bedrooms? In cars? He'd asked her to come here on purpose, hoping that the impersonal surroundings would help him let go. But all he could do was stare at her face, trying to imprint her image on his mind. He wished he had a picture of her. Something tangible, something besides memories. God, he had to stop torturing himself like this.

  "You're probably wondering why I asked you to meet me here," he began. His voice sounded wooden, lifeless. Impersonal. Impersonal was good. Maybe he could convince himself that there was nothing personal between them.

  She nodded. "When I left your house, you didn't say anything about getting together."

  And she hadn't wanted to mention it herself. When they'd said goodbye this morning, he'd noticed her hesitation. But he hadn't had the guts to break things off then.

  "Things were rushed this morning," he said. "You had to hurry home and get ready for work. I wanted to talk to you when we had more time." And when he had more strength.

  Her eyes widened. "Talk to me about what?"

  "About you." He'd rehearsed this scene, he knew what to say. All he had to do was spit it out. "You've made a lot of progres. s."

  "Thanks to you."

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  He'd ignore that. If he answered, none of his rehearsed lines would work. "In fact, you've made so much progress that you don t need to see me anymore."

  "I don't?"

  She looked surprised, but not hurt. She didn't look hurt at all. "You re a passionate woman," he said, continuing the speech. "You've proven that to yourself. You have control over your sexuality now."

  She nodded. She didn't look thoroughly convinced, but she nodded.

  Two more lines. Just two more lines to say. "You should continue to see Dr. Lansing, though. She can help you with any other issues that come up."

  She gazed at him blan
kly for a moment, as if she didn't realize he was finished. Finally she spoke. "If I have.. .if I have problems, can I see you again?"

  How could he say no? But if he said yes, he'd spend the rest or his life waiting for the phone to ring, waiting for her to call. And letting her go once was bad enough. No way could he go through this again. "I'm afraid not. I'm going to take some time off and finish a book I've been working on."

  Her lip trembled a little, and she bit down on it. If he made her cry, he'd never forgive himself. He should have told her more gently. Should have been more concerned for her feelings instead of his own. "You don't need to see me anymore, Sarah."

  Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, a small sign that she was upset. But she nodded, and her chin rose a fraction, as rr she wanted to face the future bravely. "What's the book about?"

  Couldn't she just leave? Sitting here making small talk with her, craving her, kicking himself for being a fool in the first place.. .it would just give him more memories, more things he had to forget. "It's a self-help book for people who are having sexual problems.

  She smiled at him. "Aren't you afraid the book will put you out of business?"

  If she could smile like that now, knowing she'd never see him

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  again, he obviously hadn't meant a thing to her. "Not really. I've decided not to work as a surrogate anymore."

  "But you're so good at it."

  Easy for her to say. "I might try counseling couples instead. I've done some work in that area." And couples were safer. With a couple, he could keep his distance, keep himself from getting too involved.

  "When will your book be out?"

  "I don't know. Maybe in a year."

  “I’ll look for it."

  He forced a smile. "I'll send you a copy." By then, he just might be over her.

  She glanced down, then back up at him. "I guess this is goodbye."

  Just a few more minutes. He had to hold himself together for a few more minutes. "I'm glad I got to know you." That was the polite thing to say, his standard farewell to a client line. But he usually said it with more warmth. The tight rein he'd been keeping on his feelings made him sound cold, uncaring.