Page 134 of Drown Like Heaven
“And I also know you heard how I responded to him. Then you disappeared before I asked him to leave.”
“I thought you said he had other responsibilities to tend to.” I started messing with my silver locket, twisting it on the chain, sliding my fingernail under the clasp to open it, then clicking it shut.
“I lied. He left because I told him to.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I’m aware. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“Okay,” I breathed, trembling palms pressing against my thighs.I hate being reminded of how everyone else perceives me. I hate that I’m like this at all.
I sniffled, turning to stare out my window.
“You don’t have to hide your face,” Dr. Killshaw said, kind and serious at the same time.
“You want me to cry in front of you?” I glanced over at him, a hiccup spasming in my chest.
“Hmm.” He hummed, contemplative, thumb tapping on the wheel. “It’s not a bad thing to cry.”
“Feels bad.”
“Alright. Just know I don’t mind.”
“That seems inappropriate.”
“Does it? Can’t think of how crying would be inappropriate.”
Is he…saying something?
I could think of ways crying might be inappropriate.
The space inside the cab seemed to shrink; the air seemed to get even darker, my awareness narrowing to only the man sitting beside me. I could slide across the seat if I wanted, press my body to his. I watched his strong fingers flex on the steering wheel, imagined how they’d feel inside me.
Heat flushed my veins, burning through my blood. It was humiliating, how quickly my body betrayed me, slickness gathering between my legs.He stood up for me. He protected me.The ache in my core throbbed, like a wound. An old wound no one had ever really tended to.
“You can use my first name when we’re alone,” he said, shocking me.
“Really?”
“Why not? I’m spending a lot of time with you.”
“Okay…” I breathed.
In my peripheral, I saw Dr. Killshaw—Micah—glance over in my direction. But I thought if I looked back now, I would do something really stupid. So my stare remained locked on the road. I really,reallywanted to touch him. Just to feel the solidness of his body.
“You’re not as unreadable as you think you are,” he said, adjusting his grip on the wheel again.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Yes you do.”
It almost sounded like a threat, a warning in disguise.
“I don’t.”
“Then what are you thinking about doing right now?”
Without considering the consequences of my behavior, I reached toward him and prodded his bicep with my finger. His heat and strength were so evident through his shirt, even under the touch of my one finger. I didn’t pull away.
