The Therapist (6) (Chase Walker)

by J. A. Belfield

  The stool Chase sat on spun until he faced Rae, and she dropped down until her eyes levelled with his. “Tell me you didn’t fucking gizz in your pants watching Abi O’Shay.”

  He had to force his eyes to remain steady. Had to force his lips to form the word, “No.” He rarely, if ever, lied to Raelyn or Sam. Their working relationship had been built on trust and openness from the beginning, and he hated that he’d just crossed the line they’d scored together.

  She whirled him back to face the screen and pointed straight at his crotch. “Then, what the fuck is that, Walker?”

  If Sam had dragged him in there, demanding answers, he’d have barked back and probably bitten and offered up a few threats of job loss.

  Rae, though, was a whole heap scarier than Sam and had a way of chewing at his leg until he held his hands up in surrender.

  “Sweat?” he offered.

  “Bullshit!” She swung him back to face her again. “What the hell do you think you’re doing with this client?”

  “Has Sam seen this?” he asked instead of answering her.

  “If she has, she hasn’t mentioned it. And I haven’t told her. Yet, anyway.”

  “You planning on telling her?” Having Rae rag on him was one thing. Having the pair of him tag-teaming and nagging consistently and persistently would be irritating as fuck, and more than he wanted to deal with right then.

  Letting out a heavy sigh, Rae straightened, finally giving him a little breathing space. “Probably not.” Folding her arms across her chest, she stared down at him. “I’m serious, though. What the hell are you doing with her?”

  “I’m not doing anything.” Her mouth opened, but before she could argue, he held up his hands. “I’m not. I haven’t touched her. I haven’t crossed any lines …”

  “Yet,” Rae said, flicking her ponytail away as it slid over her shoulder. “Listen, I know what you’ve got planned for her next visit, and I think you should cancel.”

  “You want me to cancel on Abi?” His head was shaking even before he said, “I can’t do that.”

  “Then, get someone else in for it. Ring Mrs P and have her send someone over.”

  “There isn’t time. Abi’s appointment is today.”

  Rae’s eyes narrowed to slits, like a couple of lasers spitting suspicion out at him.

  He could understand her reaction. Chase never kept track of who he was seeing when. That was what he’d hired Sam and Rae for, amongst other things. He didn’t even know, himself, when he’d switched to keeping track of Abi’s next visit.

  Rather than defending his slip-up, he gave a nonchalant shrug. “Look, if she turns up here today expecting one thing, and I throw her to the wolves, she’ll regress. We can’t do that to her.”

  Rae’s second sigh seemed even weightier than the last, but her face softened as she said, “I’m worried about you, babe. She worries me. What if something goes wrong and it jeopardises the practice. Where will that leave us? What would we even do if we don’t have this? What—”

  “Will you stop with the worrying?” Pushing to his feet, he took her shoulder and gave a slight squeeze. “Rae, I got this. It’s all under control.”

  She rolled her eyes in an award-winning performance of yeah, right!.

  “Really. Two, maybe three more sessions, and Abi O’Shay will be moving on, anyway. I can do a few more sessions without fucking up.” Waiting until her gaze met his again, he smiled. “I promise, Rae. I got this.”

  The wary nod she sent him said she trusted him on that about as much as he trusted himself.

  ***

  A case of erectile dysfunction. A foray into BDSM that’d seemed more about beating the shit out of each other than respectively dipping toes into something new. And a female client who thought she’d gone there for some kind of clitoral stimulation that she wouldn’t have to provide herself.

  Chase had gently told her that if she wanted that kind of service, maybe she should move to The States and set up home in Colorado.

  Almost subconsciously, his head tapped against his desktop as he rested it there. His day had pretty much gone from bad to bad, to fucking bad, bad, bad. Somebody, somewhere, had to give him a damned break. Soon.

  Despite hearing the click of his office door, followed by the tapping of heels, he didn’t bother lifting his head from where it rested against his forearms. Not even as those footsteps reached his desk and the tickle of being stared at hit the back of his neck.

  “You awake, Walker.” Rae.

  “Yeah,” he said quietly, his lips meeting wood with the movement.

  He detected a small laugh on her exhale. Could almost imagine her smiling at his enthusiasm. Or lack of.

  “Here’s something to get you moving.”

  “What is it?” he asked, kissing wood again.

  Her voice held none of her humour as she told him, “Your early bird’s early again.”

  He finally lifted his head, wincing at the steely flint in Rae’s eyes as they stared down at him.

  “Don’t fuck this up,” was all she said, twisting for the door. “Stay there. I’ll send her through.”

  Chase just stared after her back. Thinking of the session he had coming. Thinking of the promise he’d made to Rae.

  Thinking what an impossible situation a combination of the two actually made.

  She pulled the door open, and beckoned toward the hallway. “Mr Walker will see you now, Miss O’Shay.”

  He didn’t hear a sound from her feet before she appeared in the doorway, her eyes downcast as she thanked Raelyn. Her hands clasped at her waist as she stepped into the room.

  As soon as the door shut behind her, leaving the two of them alone, her face lifted, her eyes found him, and a smile grew on her face like he’d just given her the sun. “Hello, Mr Walker.”

  He found his own lips responding, stretching at the corners for the first time that day. “Abi.” For a moment, he allowed his sights to venture lower. Over the press of her breasts against the underside of the clinic robe, the way the crossover of fabric gaped slightly to accommodate them. The belt at her waist highlighted her slenderness, above where the robe hung to her knees and the pale legs led down to the clinic slippers she wore. Even in something as mundane as that, she managed to look about as perfect as could be.

  Focussing back on the reason for her being there—for him being there—he gestured toward the chaise longue. “Come in and take a seat.”

  She seemed to have trouble controlling her twitching mouth as she made the steps forward and did exactly as he’d suggested.

  Chase had trouble interpreting what the hell her lips were trying to do. Or what the smiley-shine of her eyes meant. What the slight swing of her steps were telling him ….

  He pushed to his feet, all too aware of her watching him as he rounded the desk and propped himself against its front ledge. “How are you feeling about today’s session, Abi?”

  Her gaze seemed to be clasped directly onto him. She was growing bolder with her eye contact. “I’m feeling confident.”

  Yeah, Chase could see that. She held her spine straight, but more of an I’m in control pose than one borne of tension. Her hands toyed with each other in her lap, but more let’s get going than what am I doing here?.

  Chase took every tiny single bit of it in. “Do you remember what we discussed last week—about what this week’s session would involve?”

  She smiled a smile that held a whole lot of sass and sauce. Hell, even her left eyebrow arched like it played along. “Yes, I remember.”

  The way she said it, her voice low and soft and fucking inviting had Chase suddenly wondering who’d be leading whom in the ensuing session. He wanted to wriggle a finger beneath his collar and work the damned fabric looser—because, it felt way too bloody hot to be in there with her right then.

  If anyone other than Abi sat before him, he’d have been questioning if he was being played.

  Swallowing, he tucked his hands in his pockets so he could
n’t give his uncertainty away. “Did you want to go through it before we start, or—”

  “We could start … and then you can talk me through it.” She shrugged, an indifferent gesture that looked anything but.

  Holy hell. Abi was actually fucking eager to get in the bloody shower with him.

  Chase wanted to groan. To sneak off and strap some kind of torture device to his cock that could kill any urges before they could start.

  Because, for the first time since he’d said the words to his friend and colleague, he truly worried he wouldn’t be keeping that promise, after all.

  ***

  “Oh, wow.” Abi paused just inside the door to the clinic’s session bathroom. Her eyes wide, she seemed to scan every inch of the room.

  Chase could understand her reaction. They’d had the room fitted specially, not least to keep those kinds of practical’s separate to the after-session washroom. And to anyone without the means to stay in top-dollar accommodation, the generous space probably screamed of opulence and money and a whole lot of OTT—because who the hell fantasised about sex in a crummy bathroom with dodgy piping and a shit stench coming from its loo?

  Taking a few hesitant steps in, Abi aimed for the bath in the centre of the room—though it bore little resemblance to those found in most homes. Square in shape, its base sank beneath the shallow ledge surrounding it, and with the entire structure waterproofed by tiles, it probably looked more like a miniature swimming pool than a tub.

  In line with it, a full counter stretched along one wall, its graphite top supporting the equally graphite washbowls atop it. And partially hiding the wall opposite was the only other fixture in there: a glass enclosure big enough to accommodate four.

  “I thought we were doing this in a natural setting,” she said quietly.

  “A bathroom is a natural setting,” he said, watching her.

  She glanced back at him over her shoulder, the smile on her lips contradicting the disbelief in her eyes. “This isn’t a bathroom, Mr Walker. It’s bloody Narnia.”

  Chase let free a laugh, as much at her unexpected language as at her words. “Everyone should experience Narnia at least once in their life,” he said, moving closer to her.

  A frown flitted across her brow. “How am I supposed to relax in something this grand?”

  For a moment, he’d entertained the idea that Abi could be wooed with riches, but the rapid switch in her demeanour had him questioning that assessment and panicking that he’d lost her before they’d even begun. Arm outstretched and leading the way, he strode toward the left. “Would it make you more comfortable if we restricted the session to the shower?” He peered back at her, but she still wore that damned frown. “It’s no different to any other shower cubicle, other than in size. There’s more than one shower head—no worrying about squeezing in to share the one jet.” He let a smile out and hoped it covered the desperation he sensed creeping through him like a shifty fucking cancer. “And …” He swung open the door to the enclosure, exposing the space within. “As soon as the warm water hits the glass, it’ll hide all this crap out here, and you won’t even have to see it. You can pretend you’re just in a regular shower. In a regular bathroom.”

  “With a regular guy?” she asked, but at least her brows had eased up.

  “With a regular guy,” he said, his smile inching wider.

  Her chest rose, dropping again as she released a long sigh. “Okay.”

  Chase wanted to fist bump the bloody air, but restrained himself. He did relax his gesturing, though, instead tucking his hands into his pockets like that alone could tempt Abi onto the chill train with him. “Good … so, how would you like to proceed?”

  “I … I don’t know.” The nerves that’d been missing in his office seemed to have returned as she hugged her chest with her arms, the fingers of one hand toying with the neckline of her robe. “How did you envision it proceeding, when you decided on what we’d do for the session?”

  Chase very much doubted Abi really wanted to know the answer to that question. Because none of the scenarios he’d envisioned would ever pass the code around which they conducted their sessions. Not a single fucking one of them.

  And damn his stupid head for taking him there right then. Damn his stupid cock, too, for stirring as soon as he pictured a very wet and very willing Abi O’Shay, all fucking slippery with need and languid with willingness and want.

  Clearing his throat, he tore his gaze from where she stared right at him through those pale, stupidly captivating eyes. “Well, either you could undress first and, once you’re in the shower, let me know as soon as you’re comfortable, and I will join you. Or, I can go in first, and you can join me once you feel ready to do so.” He dared seek out her gaze again, once more getting sucker punched as hard as he did every damned time. “The choice is yours, Abi.”

  The choice is yours? Four simple words that had Chase holding his breath. Holding and waiting to see which way she’d go. He counted off five, excruciatingly long seconds in his head, while Abi stared at him, her eyebrows twitching around with whatever thoughts went through her head.

  When her lips finally popped open, the tiny sound cut through the air like a fucking explosion. “You can go in first.”

  Chase swallowed. Half because her decision meant he’d be stripping off in front of her, and while he never usually had an issue with his body being on show, it suddenly felt a hella lot different knowing Abi O’Shay would be his audience.

  And half because he couldn’t be one-hundred percent certain she’d join him once he had.

  “You sure?” he asked. Just to check.

  She seemed to contemplate his question, but only for a half beat before she nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Okay, then.” Offering up what he hoped would be a reassuring smile, he reached across into the shower cubicle and spun a couple of the taps in there, backing out as two jets of water plummeted into its base. “You can use these hooks for your robe, when you’re ready to remove it.” He loosened his tie as he spoke, and as soon as he’d tugged it free enough, he lifted it over his head and hung it from one of said hooks.

  For a moment, he didn’t know where to look as he reached for the first button on his shirt. At Abi. Not at Abi. If he looked at her, made eye contact, what message would that send?

  What message did he want to send? Not one he should’ve been, that was for damned sure.

  Twisting his body slightly, he kept his gaze low. Studied the floor tiles as he worked his way through the rest of the buttons, until he was pulling the hem of his shirt from his trousers and shrugging it from his shoulders.

  To the right of him, he sensed Abi fidgeting, could almost imagine her shifting from one foot to another, tucking a hand inside the opposite sleeve of her robe, entwining her fingers around one another. Still, he didn’t so much as glance her way as he hung his shirt over his tie and flipped open the waist fastening of his trousers. Not bothering to take it slow—it wasn’t a fucking striptease, after all—he shoved the fabric down over his legs as soon as he’d unsecured them enough, and kicked them off his feet along with his shoes.

  Leaving him standing there in only socks and boxers. With Abi’s heavy gaze all the fuck over him.

  In his mind, anyway. And that alone was enough to have his dick twitching in his pants.

  Angling his body even farther from her, he balanced from foot to foot and lost his socks, placing them inside his shoes, and his shoes beneath the hangers. Just his boxers to go. And fuck, if his stupid dick didn’t spring its way out of them the second he slid them down.

  Sending a silent curse down at his idiotic, overeager body, he tossed his underwear in a direct flight for the rest of his clothing, and as soon as they’d landed where he wanted them, he glanced back over his shoulder, just catching the jerk of Abi’s head.

  So, she had been watching him. Totally didn’t help with his argument against his disobedient body.

  “When you’re ready,” was all
he said, before he stepped into the glass enclosure and shut himself in.

  Inside, the heat of the water engulfed him. It had already created a fine misted layer over the glass, blurring Abi’s form into a mass that almost merged with her surroundings. For a moment, Chase just stood there, staring toward where he knew he’d left her. Willing her to disrobe and get the hell in the shower alongside him.

  In truth, they didn’t really need the shower for the session. Any of the practice’s rooms would’ve sufficed for them to get naked and give Abi a chance to discover how she felt about the male body being revealed to her.

  In some dark part of his brain, Chase knew the chance to see Abi completely exposed and dripping wet all in one session held the real reason for the option.

  Shutting the door on those thoughts, he reached for a bar of soap from a mounted dish. She’d never take that damned robe off as long as he was pulling a Norman Bates on her. “Abi, can you pass me something please?”

  Her form swayed, like she glanced around. “What is it?”

  “In the cupboard beneath the basins—can you grab me a sponge from there?” After all, throwing regular, mundane requests at her, ones that anyone might ask when taking a shower, could help put her more at ease. Knowing it was also a great way to toss in a nudge of encouragement, he added, “Feel free to grab one for yourself, too.”

  He didn’t quite catch the pad of her feet, thanks to the spattering of the water around him, but he could see the glide of her outline toward where he’d directed her. He watched her as she bent, as she made her way toward him, and he wondered how she’d pass it to him. Would she look as she held it out? Would she even open the door—because maybe she’d just chuck it in over the top of the glass and back away like she’d been stung.

  “Can you give me a moment?” she said through the panel.

  “Sure,” he said. “Whatever you need.”

  She stood as still beyond the door to the cubicle as she had in the centre of the room before he’d made his request. And he watched her just as hard as he had then, too, while, in his head, he silently counted off seconds. One. Two. Three ….