Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
He waits until I sit in my chair before he positions himself in front of me. Holy shit! Even in black pants, it’s not hard to miss the outline of his dick. Does this man wear underwear? Someone save me. If he doesn’t move, I might pass out from lack of oxygen to my brain. Being this close to Duke and his manhood only makes me think of how long it has been since I last had sex.
“Either sit or stand,” I say, “but you need to do it someplace other than in front of me.”
He chuckles. What a jerk. He did that on purpose. Duke sits on the sofa across from me and opens his legs wide. I could punch him right now.
Is he trying to kill me?
My ovaries are ready to explode, thinking about Duke without those sweatpants. His big body takes up way too much space as he adjusts himself. Flexing his muscles beneath his shirt, he leans back against the cushions and smiles at me. But it’s more like a cocky smirk that says he knows what I’m thinking.
I trace the lines down his arms with my eyes and imagine doing the same with my fingers.
“Do you see something you like, Doc?” He leans forward, his elbows rested on his thighs, pinning me down with his eyes. “Do you need me to give you mouth-to-mouth?”
Ignoring him, I lift the pen and pad from the side table next to me.
“You looked like you stopped breathing,” he says with laughter in his voice. “I thought I could offer some assistance.”
When our eyes meet, he winks at me. I grip the pen so tight my hand hurts. Duke runs a hand through his hair and licks his lips, eyeing me up as if I were his prey.
I glance up at the clock on the wall and sigh. “We’ve wasted enough time already. Our session begins now,” I say as I set the timer on the table next to me.
“What do you want to know?”
“What made you attack Dean Crawford? Let’s start there.”
He sighs, looking away from me. “Because he deserved it.”
If he keeps giving me clipped answers, we’re in for the roughest months of our lives.
Chapter Five
DUKE
Therapy is a waste of time. After my mother’s death, my dad forced me to see one doctor after another, none of which could get me to open up. Nothing Dr. Devine says or does will get me to talk. She could spread eagle on the couch for me, and I wouldn’t tell her a fucking thing.
Dr. Devine sits across from me, tapping her right heel on the edge of the table, attempting to distract me. She has nice legs, long and lean, and I bet her skin is soft to the touch. My focus is impenetrable. No matter how hard she tries to break down my walls, they’re staying up. The more she pushes, the more I will fight back. It’s in my nature. That’s what I do to survive.
“Why do you think Dean Crawford deserved a beating?” Dr. Devine’s tone is harsh and demanding.
I roll my shoulders against the comfy chair, averting her gaze.
“Dennis,” she says in a mocking tone, which only fuels my anger.
“Don’t call me Dennis,” I snap.
She stops tapping her shoe on the table and crosses her arms. Her lips stretch into a tight line. My sister gives me the same look when she’s mad at me. Kat says I act like a jerk to hide my soft interior, but that’s just what she wants to believe. My little sister has a weak spot for assholes. Hence, why she chose Dean.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my family with an intensity that scares even me sometimes. I would do anything to protect them, to defend them. In my mind, what I did to Dean was payback for what Kat is going through now. I know it took both of them to make the baby and that Dean would never hurt her. But still, it felt good to smash his face in with my fist.
“Dennis,” Dr. Devine says again in an even more condescending tone. “That’s your name, is it not?”
“No one calls me that,” I challenge.
Not since my mom was alive.
Kat calls me Denny when she either wants something from me or is trying to get under my skin. When Kat calls me Denny, I don’t mind. It’s like a term of endearment to her. Kat reminds me so much of our mother. She’s so sweet and pure, the spitting image of our mother when she was her age. Dad says that looking at Kat is like staring at old photos of my mom. I think Kat had a lot to do with why Dad stayed away so much when we needed him most.
All of us remind him of what he lost—the love of his life. Knowing that heartache can make people do stupid things, like ignore their family, makes me never want to fall in love. I never want to feel that kind of pain. I don’t want to get close enough to anyone that I can lose someday.