“How old is your son?” Andi asks with a lift to her voice. Probably to take away from the discomfort of Dan’s comment.
I try to curb my need to protect my life from people. “He’s twelve.”
“Twelve?” Leandro exclaims from beside me.
I know for a fact that my cheeks are bright red right now.
I really want to kick Dan in the shin, hard, for bringing Jett up.
“What I mean is, you don’t look old enough to have a twelve-year-old,” Leandro says, his voice sounding different.
I swallow past a breath. “I was young when I had him.” I force bright into my voice and my eyes to look at him.
What I see staring back makes my breath catch and sends shivers hurtling through my body, all the way down to my toes.
The way he’s looking at me is like he’s seeing me in a whole new light.
Not just as his therapist, but as a woman.
And it thrills me to my very core.
“I can’t believe you never told me that you know Carrick Ryan.”
We’re outside my front door, and Dan has his arms around me.
He’s driven me home from dinner. Andi was trying to talk us into drinks afterward, but in all honesty, I didn’t want to hang around and watch Kat feel up Leandro.
It was bugging me.
It shouldn’t have because I’m seeing Dan, and I’m Leandro’s therapist. But I don’t lie to myself, and being attracted to the guy is a problem.
One that I need to control.
Because I can’t stop treating him.
I should. Finding a patient attractive is never a good thing. But I’ve never found myself in this situation before.
What reason would I give to stop treating him?
Oh, I kind of find you insanely attractive, so I can’t treat you anymore.
I don’t think so.
I just need to pull up my big girl panties and repeatedly remind myself that he’s my patient.
And I’m also in Dan’s arms right now, arguing with myself over another man.
I’m scoring major points tonight.
Right, no more Leandro thoughts.
“Andi’s a patient, and I only know Carrick through her. And you’re not a big Formula One fan, so I didn’t think it’d matter if I told you or not.”
“It doesn’t.” He brushes my nose with his. “But the guy is a legend, as is Leandro Silva. Though I hear he’s not racing anymore after his accident.”
“Hmm…”
“So, dinner was nice.”
“It was.”
He brushes his lips over mine in that soft way of his.
It’s nice. Just, sometimes, I wish he’d go wild with me. Push me up against the door and ravage me.
Not kiss me like he thinks I’m going to break.
Feeling oddly frustrated, I deepen the kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth. Pressing my body up against his, I moan into his mouth.
His fingers gently slide into my hair.
But I don’t want him to be gentle.
I push him up against the outside wall of my house. Splaying my hands on his chest, I kiss him harder. Nipping his lip with my teeth, I let my hand lower to his erection that’s digging into my hip. I start to rub him through the fabric.
Then, I lower the zipper of his trousers, but he catches my hand, stopping me.
“India.”
Embarrassment floods my face at his blatant rejection. I pull my hand away and take a step back from him, looking at anything but him. “God, I’m so sorry.”
I don’t know why I did that. We haven’t even had sex yet. I wanted to take it slow, and it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex with any man.
What was I planning on doing? Have sex with him in my doorway?
It’s not like I’d take him inside and have sex with him while my son is sleeping in the next room, and my brother is down the hall. Then, there’s the fact that Jett hasn’t met him, and Kit has met him only once.
What has gotten into me?
“I should go inside.” My eyes are currently on my feet, which start to move toward my front door.
“No, India, wait.” He catches my arm, pulling me back to him.
He slides his hands around my waist. I reluctantly look him in the face.
“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. “You just caught me off guard. I guess I wasn’t expecting it. We haven’t had sex, and you haven’t made any move in that direction until now.”
I stare down at my feet, unable to look at him a moment longer. “I guess…I just got caught up in the moment.”
“India, look at me, please.”
Reluctantly, I lift my eyes to his.
His hand cups my cheek, caressing it with his thumb. “I like that you got caught up in the moment, and I’m more than happy to move on to that next stage of our relationship, but only if you’re really ready.”
“I don’t know. I guess…maybe.” I shrug.
For an educated woman, I’m just full of articulation tonight, aren’t I?
“India, I want what you want. There’s no pressure here.”
Frustration builds in my mind, buzzing in my ears, and I instantly see my problem here.
I want him to want what he wants. Not want what I want. I need him to be more assertive. Tell me that he wants me, and the rest be damned. Press me up against this wall, and kiss the hell out of me. Tell me how much he needs to be inside me. That he can’t breathe without me.
I need passion from him.