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After thirty minutes of physical therapy, Kate leads me out to the door that opens into the waiting room. She stops there, one hand on the knob. "I'll see you Monday. Then it will be time to strip your psyche bare."
"Stripping? You need to buy me dinner first." I meant to say that in a cheeky way, but it came out rough instead.
Kate bites her lip, letting it slide free little by little.
Bod an Donais. I cannae stop myself. I back her up to the wall and kiss her. When our lips meet, the lust grips me and willnae let go, not until I've tasted her.
She flicks her tongue out to tease my mouth.
I groan and plunge my tongue between her lips while I tug her hips into me, grinding my stiffeningslatagainst her. She moans and wraps her tongue around mine, writhing and rubbing her breasts against my chest. Though I can feel their hard peaks, the taste of her distracts me from that. But it's the way she wriggles that sexy body that drives out all other thoughts. I want to carry her back to her office and shag her on the desk.
But instead, I pull away and stumble backward, breathing too hard to speak. What is wrong with me? Kissing my therapist, who I don't even like, has to be the daftest thing I've ever done. I have only one option now. Luckily, I brought my leather jacket today, so I fold it over my arm and hold that in front of my body to hide my erection. "See you Monday."
Then I walk out the door.
"How did it go?" Hugh asks as opens the front door for me.
I grunt and hobble outside.
"That well, eh? You should try to get on with Kate, since you'll be working with her for three more weeks. She's a lovely woman, Cal."
"Dùin do ghob. Donnae want to hear about Kate anymore."
Aye, I told my best mate to shut the fuck up. I'm in no condition to chat to Hugh, especially not about Kate. He can have her. What I did a few minutes ago was nothing more than temporary insanity.
Because I am not attracted to Kate Wagner.
Chapter Seven
Kate
What on earth just happened? I'm still leaning against the wall, a few feet from the closed door to the waiting room, because my muscles won't move and my brain refuses to process the fact that Callum kissed me. I kissed him back and sort of, um, rubbed myself all over him. Jeez, I practically begged him to screw me. Not in words, but in actions.
And God, I wanted him to do that.
I shove myself away from the wall and hurry back to my office, dropping onto my chair. I should never have let Callum kiss me. It's beyond unprofessional, and if anyone found out what we did, I could lose my job. A psychotherapist is not supposed to make out with her client. It was a fluke. An accident. One moment of insanity. It will never happen again.
But a memory of that kiss barrels through my mind, and heat rushes over me from head to toe. The luscious warmth seeps under my skin too, enlivening parts of me that I do not want to wake up right now.
Could I sort of, possibly, be attracted to him?
No, absolutely not. The man drives me insane with his pigheaded attitude and grumpy demeanor. I do not feel that way about him. I'm done with men, anyway. At least I won't see him again until Monday. By then, I'll have repressed that moment and will have no trouble getting back to work.
On Saturday morning, I realize what I need to do. Talk to Callum. Clear the air. So I call him.
"Kate?" Callum says. "Why are you ringing me?"
"We need to talk. Can I come over to your place?"
"Aye. When did you have in mind?"
"Right now. Is that okay?"
Silence follows for several seconds. "Aye."
"Great. Text me your address."
Half an hour later, I knock on the door to his apartment.
