Page 83 of Pressure

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Marissa paced the top floor of Lance's office building on Tuesday evening, waiting for him to finish a conference call.

He'd agreed to go to her therapy session with her, but now Marissa was having second thoughts. What if this was a terrible mistake? The last couple of days with him had been... incredible and exhausting. She didn't want to ruin what they were currently enjoying by digging into their pasts. But she knew it was necessary. Might as well get it over with. Or something like that.

His door opened and her pulse quickened as it always did when he walked into a room these days.

She licked her lips and gave him a bright smile, hoping to mask her nerves. He crossed to where she stood and pulled her to him. Despite her protests, he didn't seem shy about displays of affection in the office.

"You seem tense," he said as he pulled away and cupped her jaw.

"I'm fucking terrified," she admitted. "But let's get this over with."

He stayed where he was, his thumb caressing her cheek.

"You sure? We can always reschedule."

She shook her head. "The longer we put it off, the harder this will be."

He brushed wayward strands of hair away from her face. "Let's go then. Car should be downstairs."

"I notice you drive yourself in Colorado," she murmured as they walked toward the elevator.

He nodded. "It's a stress reliever. I would drive more here if traffic weren't so fucked."

Marissa preferred taking public transportation. People liked to complain about it, but she enjoyed the people watching.

Lance must have already given the driver the address for the therapist's office because he pulled into traffic and headed in the right direction without a word to either of them.

Lance kept an arm around her shoulders as they rode through the city. It was rush hour, so they'd left a full hour before their appointment, despite the office being just a few miles from Lance's building. When they walked into the small office, Lance folded himself into one of the undersized waiting room chairs and motioned for her to perch on his knee. She shook her head and dropped into the chair beside him.

"Anything off limits for tonight?" he asked, touching his hand to her thigh.

She looked at the ceiling and thought about his question.

"I can't think of anything. But Dr. Hoffman is good about spotting things I'm not ready to talk about yet, so she'll be there to guide our conversation."

He gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. A curse left his lips, and he shifted, pulling his phone from his pocket. Standing, he pushed out of the compact waiting room into the hallway. She watched him pace and talk.

As he did, the receptionist leaned around her partition.

"Miss Sullivan? Dr. Hoffman is ready for you now." Marissa nodded. "Give me just a sec please."

She stood and stuck her head out the door. "Doctor is ready," she whispered.

He turned and gave her an apologetic smile, holding up one finger.

He nodded his head to whoever was talking, as if they could see him. His hand covered the mouthpiece of the phone.

"Go on in. I'll be right there, I promise."

She eyed him skeptically. This wouldn't be the first time work had pulled him away from an important conversation.

He blew her a kiss and waved her back into the office. Reluctantly, she stepped through the door and headed to the inner office where her therapist was waiting.

"Dr. Hoffman, good to see you again. Lance just had to take a phone call. He'll be right in."

Her therapist gave her a warm smile and motioned for her to sit on the long sofa.

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