Page 61 of Deeply Examined

Does that make me as awful as he is?

No, I’m way worse.

“Don’t even think about killing me, Dylan. Do you really believe I’d be so dumb that I wouldn’t have redundancies in place? A way to distribute the evidence against you if something happens to me?”

That fire in his expression goes out, and I laugh, knowing I’ve won. I let him go after that, confident I’ll never see his miserable face again.

Back in my car, I lean my head against the headrest, feeling the adrenaline from my confrontation with Dylan slowly ebb out of my bloodstream. I let out a shaky chuckle.

First Brad and now Dylan. Jessica’s made my lifesomuch more interesting.

Soon, I’m back home. I head straight for Jessica’s room, making sure my footsteps are silent on the metal rungs of the stairs. I’ve come here every night since she moved in. It’s my ritual now, the last stop before I lie down in my bed and try to find the slumber that so often eludes me. Usually, I sit in the armchair in the corner of the room and watch her sleeping, bathed in the golden glow of the nightlight. I take peace from the soft sounds she makes, how her eyelids flicker as she dreams. One night, she even said my name in her sleep. “West,” she said, her voice filled with longing. How pleased I’d been, to know she dreams about me the same way I dream about her.

Tonight, I don’t go to the chair. Instead, I kneel by the bedside, next to her head. It’s been a monumental evening. I can feel the shift in our dynamic. The deepening of our connection.

Softly, so I don’t wake her, I confess all the truths in my heart. “Sometimes I think fate made you just for me. That you’re the world’s way of making up for every shitty thing that came before. If that’s the case, then I’m okay with it. It was worth it, all the pain and suffering, to get you at the end.” Gently I brush blonde waves away from her angelic face. I press a feather-light kiss to her forehead and whisper, “I’ve fucked hundreds of women, but I’ve only kissed one.”

Then I inject the tracker into her neck.

She’s mine now, and I’ll never let her get away.

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Chapter fourteen

Jessica

The next three months pass like a fever dream. We eat dinner together. Sometimes we read next to each other on the couch. More often than not, we end up in his secret room, where I’m Ms. Jones and he’s Dr. West.

The things we do there defy my wildest fantasies. They shatter every boundary I had. In that room, he teaches me to speak the language of my desires.

During the second week of our trips to the room, after his hands have roamed my body, touching everywhere until I’m panting for him, begging for him, he takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Tell me what you want, Ms. Jones. Just say it, and I’ll do it. You’ll find I have no limits. There’s nothing I won’t do. You want me to spank you, fist you, call you names, I’ll do it. You want me to make love to you slow and gentle, like you’re made of glass, I’ll do that too.” He tilts his head, running his eyes over my naked body in a way that makes me feel more seen than I’ve ever felt before. “All you have to do is tell me what you want.”

What do I want?

No one’s ever asked me that before.

There are so many options, and I’ve already learned he’s good at all of them—at least the ones we’ve tried so far. There is one thing I particularly enjoy… My cheeks heat as my gaze drops. In a whisper I say, “I want you to kiss me.” I flick my eyes to the space between my legs.

He purses his lips and arches an eyebrow. “I’m sorry.” He raises his voice like he’s hard of hearing. “What was that? Couldn’t quite understand.”

Clearing my throat, I try again. “I want you to kiss me down there.” I repeat the eye flick, exaggerating it this time.

He’s trying not to smile. I can tell from how his lips twitch. “It’s funny. I don’t remember any location labeled as ‘down there’ in my anatomy class back in med school.”

I huff, understanding now what his game is all about. I’m just as stubborn as he is. I clamp my mouth shut and glare at him. At least I try, but his hand is between my legs, stroking and swirling until my mouth drops open with sharp gasps.

“Use your big-girl words.” West smirks at me, annoyingly unruffled.

“I want—I want you to lick my—I don’t know. It feels weird to say!” I throw up my hands in exasperation, glad he hasn’t bound them for once.

“Let me help you.” He’s using his professor tone now. “I’ll accept the following terms. We can go clinical and call it your vagina, or we can go casual and say pussy or cunt.” His fingers are relentless, gliding, sliding, shifting on my core until it’s molten, on fire from his touch. He makes it hard to concentrate, but I know him. He’s trying to make a point, and I won’t get what I want until I learn the lesson.

So bossy.

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