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It takes guts to face your fears.

“I’m afraid of stupidity and idiocy. Sitting at the edge of a cliff fits both categories.”

“Then why are you here? Go stand on the ground like a good rule follower I’m sure you are.”

Gritting my teeth, I don’t answer him. Resentment builds up inside me. I’ve been called names all my life and I don’t like it, being pigeonholed. Good follower. Good student. Good doctor.

A part of me clamors to break free. I want to be bewitching.He called you that on the jet, remember?

No, that was him trying to annoy me.

Scraping noises reach my ears, and suddenly, a wall of heat appears next to me. “Don’t worry. I won’t let my good little girl fall to her death.”

My blood heats at his words. Good little girl doesn’t sound so…obedient right now. She sounds devious, naughty, and decidedly…bad. My pulse kicks up at the thought.

I like it.

He’s such a bad influence.

I stiffen, my eyes still squeezed shut. “You’re not that much older than me, Rex.”

“So it’s Rex today? Not Mr. Anderson?”

“We’re obviously not in a session.”

“Not the session I want anyway,” he whispers in my ear, and goosebumps pebble my arms. “Although if we were in one of my sessions, I’d let you call me whatever you want. And I’m seven years older than you… I consider that significant.”

His words graze my skin before snaking between my legs, and I shiver.

“I’m cold,” I mutter, not knowing why I’m explaining myself.

Definitely not because he’s a master in seduction and, apparently, according to Lana, I still need to get laid.

He huffs out a dry laugh. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Do you only have two modes, Rex? Shameless flirt and brooding psycho?” I slap my hand over my mouth, shocked at what I called him.

I, of all people, know psychopathy is a medical condition and not to be used as an insult.

I’m ashamed of myself.

Rex tsks under his breath. “DoctorLin, do I get on your nerves?”

“I wonder what gave that away.”

He snorts and moves even closer until his hard body presses up against mine, his thigh acting like an anchor, his arm perched behind me. He’s bracing my back and body the way a chair would.

Like he’s trying to make me feel safe.

“Open your eyes. I won’t let you fall. Trust me.”

My heart stutters at his words.Trust me.I shiver again, and this time, even I can’t pretend it’s from the cold.

The next thing I know, something covers my head.

He put his baseball cap on me.

“Trust me, Olivia,” he repeats.