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“You don’t want the bomb to explode, Olivia. Don’t test me.” The warning is barely above a whisper.

But I do. I want to face the bomb head-on. Pick at it. Disarm it. Or maybe I want it to incinerate me.

Is this a latent, masochistic, perverse need? An occupational hazard?

I swallow, my mind dizzy, my lungs seizing like they can’t draw in enough oxygen.

He swipes his thumb across my pulse again, and I watch those beautiful eyes of his darken as he rests his finger on my wrist, like he can tell how fast my heart is beating for him.

How maddening he’s making me feel.

What the hell are you doing? This is completely unprofessional, Olivia. You know better than to get rattled.

I snatch my hand away, my chest heaving even though I barely moved a muscle.

Slowly, he angles his head up, and I see his face under the direct light for the first time.

His pupils are dilated, gray irises nowhere to be seen. The dark circles are prominent under his eyes. His lips part, his skin flushed. A muscle twitches in his sharp jawline, begging me to trace it with my fingers.

His gaze drops to my lips. My lungs stop working.

I’m thrown back to that night at Mystique again, except this time, he’s within touching distance.

Kissing distance.

What would it feel like to be kissed by the prince of pleasure? What would it be like to let go?

My nipples harden and I stumble, taking a step back.

Danger.

“It’sDoctorLin to you, Mr. Anderson. Not Olivia.NeverOlivia during our sessions. I don’t cheat or lie for my patients. Never have and never will.” I draw a deep inhale, and the temporary dizziness fades. “And I’ve never resorted to blackmailing my patients before, but you know what they say. There’s always a first time.”

Pivoting, I step toward the other bedroom, but not before turning back. “So don’tyoutest me.”

I stride away, my heart thundering, mis-calibrating. I can almost believe we’re flying into the eye of a storm. But I need to do better—control my irrational thoughts and turbulent emotions, and not let him get to me. My professional reputation is at stake. The millions in funding for ADAS are at stake. He could complain to Maxwell or his peers about my unprofessionalism.

Stick it out for Las Fallas, Olivia. For Mia. Stick it out for patients benefiting from ADAS.

Tension thickens with each step I take, the distance between us stretching.

I expect him to blow up, to throw a tantrum, to grab me by my wrist and give me a piece of his mind.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he laughs, the low, dark chuckles renewing the heat in my veins.

Then he claps. Harsh. Loud. Whiplashes against my skin.

He mocks me.

“Little Olivia has claws,” he murmurs. “Or I mean,DoctorLin. I’m looking forward to testingevery single limityou have.”

A bolt of heat shoots straight to my clit as unwanted images of limbs tangled in passion invade my mind.Insanity.Maybe Lana’s right. I need to find a man on this trip and get laid. It’s been too long, and it’s messing with my head.

I quicken my pace, needing distance from this unnerving, unsuitable man.

The devil incarnate.