Page 6 of Torch
He smirked, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.
“Might start without ya,” he murmured, offering me a wave as he headed for the door, and I suddenly wondered what kind of therapist she even was. Had I noticed that on the sign anywhere? What if this was some kind of sex therapist office, or something equally embarrassing?
“Please ignore Ice. He’s just being an ass, but at least he’s here.”
I glanced around the small reception again, taking in the details. It honestly looked like any therapy office, for any purpose, but what did I expect? Graphic pictures on the walls if it was something sex related?
“Uh… what kind of uh… It just says Therapy, so I was just wondering-”
“We mostly focus on healing the mind here, so some clients come here with anxiety related issues, and some have drug-related issues. I’m expanding my training all the time, to try and help anyone who walks through the door,” Lissa offered me a smile, and gestured to the seats in the waiting area.
“Would you like to ask any questions to see if what we offer is a good fit for you?”
I sat and then shook my head.
“Oh god, no, you’ve got someone waiting. I can… I can come back another time.”
Lissa sat beside me, and patted my arm as I moved to stand again.
“Please, don’t worry about Ice. He’s my uh… other half, so it’s fine if I keep him waiting, okay?” Oh. She had hinted at that enough times, hadn’t she?
“I don’t know why I’m here, to be honest. I was admiring your sign, and then I was just… I don’t think I need therapy though.” Who was I kidding? Most of us needed it at some point, and maybe I needed the help to avoid men like the one I couldn’t stop thinking about, but would she be the right person to talk to? She clearly had similar tastes to me.
“It doesn’t need to be ‘therapy’ as such. Sometimes people just need to talk things out, even just to hear them out loud. I can be a listening post just as easily as trying to offer any further support.” Something about her made me want to talk to her, but why would I do this here? I was literally trying to avoid the wrong type of man, so I’d ended up at a therapist’s office connected to the very man I was trying to avoid.
“I need help with a man… oh, avoiding a man. That’s not coming out right at all. I have really bad taste in men. I go for the wrong men. I need to forget someone.” Oh nice. Word vomit time, borderline gibberish, even, and to the one person who would know the man I was trying to avoid.
Four
Ithadbeenafucking week since I saw her. A week of me trying to figure out how the fuck to cross paths with her, the whole while feeling like if she didn’t even care enough to come and say goodbye that day, maybe I should just cut my losses and move on.
Was I dreaming about her? Of course I fucking was. Was I fucking my fist in the shower every fucking night, picturing her spread out in various positions, taking my dick in all of her holes? Obviously.
There was something about this woman, and I couldn’t get her out of my head. Even finally getting my bike back, and getting out for a ride, hadn’t pushed her out of my thoughts. In fact, the whole time I was out, all I kept wondering was how she’d feel wrapped around me while I rode.
“Hey, you wanna hit the pub?”
I stopped in my tracks as Micro caught up with me.
“What pub?”
He shrugged. “Dunno. Just it’s a bit like a morgue here, man, and I’m bored. This lockdown shit is so boring. I need pussy. You must need pussy. I mean, it’s been like a month for you, right?”
“Lockdown is lockdown, man. I only got to ride because there were a bunch of us going, and we can’t give up the life entirely, but Jesus, some fucker out there wants me dead. I can’t keep pretending like that’s not fucking with my head big time.”
“Hey, why don’t you book an appointment with Lissa? She’s still working on the outside, as long as Ice or one of the others hangs there with her.”
Therapy? He thought I needed therapy? What the actual fuck.
“You think I’m so fucked up that I need a fucking shrink?” Micro burst out laughing, almost tripping over his own feet as he bent nearly in half. I shoved him, and smirked as he fell face first into the clubhouse as the door opened. Reacher stepped back with a curse, narrowly avoiding falling over him, and immediately shot me a glare.
“You’re back five minutes, and all hell breaks loose, Torch.”
“Glad you noticed, Pres. You off out?”
He shook his head, giving Micro a hand as he picked himself up.
“Can I get out before you two carry on roughhousing like kids though?”
