Raven wasn’t wrong—the Knox brothers like to wear their cowboy hats every chance they get—even when they are nine inches top and tail dick deep inside my boss. With their faces partially covered with handkerchiefs tied around their heads obscuring their mouths and noses, their hats dipped, the only identifiers from this angle are the tattoos that trail down across their hands and up their necks, and those familiar mesmerising emerald eyes ringed with amber. They are the copy image of one another, twins in every way possible. Their bodies are carved marble masterpieces fit for a museum, their broadchests heaving as they use Lenora roughly. Not that I hear any complaints from her. She has a black beaded crown with a gauze veil masking her face that hides her identity, but it’s those red-soled alligator-skin shoes that give her away, that and the way she commands their movements with an authoritative tone that gets my back up, her voice like nails on a chalkboard.
Lenora Blackwood’s face contorts with pleasure beneath the gossamer material; even though it is barely visible, I note the first real smile I think I’ve ever seen stretched across her face as the Knox brothers treat her to a rigorous double-team dick down that has my cheeks pinking. I may be desensitized to an extent, but unadulterated lust still has a way of working me up—and right now, that woman is in her element.
You are sex-starved, Cara. You’re all hopped up on a certain six-foot-three wolf man, and you’re denying yourself.
I consider hurtling my head against the wall to silence the thought but then think better of it. A headache isn’t going to cancel out the mental image of Ezra bending me over that table and going to town inside me.
I’m done with that life though; this is my new start.
‘Here we go again with the new start bullshit. You wanted freedom from being controlled, not from enjoying what a man can do to your body. What THAT man can do to your body,’the voice in my head i’ve been trying to ignore snaps—acutely aware of my fascination with the brooding psych patient.
I side-step the viewing room window. My hands feel restless as I bunch my uniform between my fists. I’m too wound up. Who knew denying myself what I want would be this hard? In quick-time, I relay all the reasons why I shouldn’t explore what I am feeling with Ezra Wolfe.
Alittle of the stress I’d held onto after being so berated by the almighty Lenora Blackwood thankfully settles. I can’t imagine‘it’s a-okay to sleep with your patients’is a subclause in thewelcome committee guide, so somewhere over the years, she too had lost her way.
I sneak a last lingering peek at the show, diverting my eyes from the exceptionally formed penises when they change up their positions, as though it’s a betrayal to Ezra. Done with my Christopher Columbus mission into the unknown, I make my way back up to the records room. The scent of old books, dust, and crumpled papers preferred over the lube, rigorous sex, and cinnamon-scented candle wax from downstairs.
The part of my brain that has decided that fucking with me is its life-long dream perks up and doesn’t miss a beat.
At least someone is getting some.
I offer it a simple and to the point‘fuck you’in response.
Of all the moments in my miserable existence when I could have lost my shit—this isn’t one of them.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CARA
Ifollow the signs forTherapy & Character Building - Room 96, slipping in and wincing when the door creaks as I push it ajar enough to squeeze through. I try to go unnoticed as I creep over to Raven who is standing at the refreshments table stuffing her face with a donut. The room is creme, everything from the tables and chairs, to the walls and flooring—all in varying shades of off-white. The patients sit on metal chairs in a circle; for now they’re calm as crazy Cathy reminisces about the time she accidentally poisoned her cat, tears tracking down her cheeks, incoherent as she sobs out the last few words of her story. The lady in the long white coat running the session encourages everyone else to clap for her once she’s done.
I’m about to fill Raven in on what I saw in the basement yesterday, but think better of it when I feel Lenora’s penetrating glare from across the room. She may not have seen me down there, but I don’t want to risk it getting back to her that I know her secret.
“What have I missed?” I whisper to Raven as I straighten my uniform.
“Mr Greenblat has tried to strip down three times since the session started.”
“Well, that’s hardly new news,” I chuckle.
Doctor Mayfair clears her throat, ready to invite the next patient to share with the group. “Who’s next? Ezra, would you like to share your feelings?”
My head snaps up, wide eyes locking with his. I jumped at the chance to meet Raven here, even though it wasn’t on my rota today, because I thought it might be a chance to get to know him better. Whenever I see him, he never gets close enough for me to start up a conversation. Just silently teases me with heated side glances from afar. Maybe now I might actually get to find out something about him.The wild scenarios i’ve been constructing in my head are doing nothing for my wellbeing.
“It’s healthy to share our feelings, Ezra,” Doctor Mayfair pokes again with a chipper lilt to her tone as she flicks her dark hair over her shoulder. I glance between the two of them, his gaze still trained on me.
I don’t know if the softly-softly approach works on psychopaths, but hats off to her for giving it a good go.
She leans in and squeezes his arm reassuringly as if it’s nerves that are keeping him quiet.
Is she flirting with him?
“You’ve got competition,” Raven whispers beside me, confirming my thought. Watching the good doctor here eye-fuck Ezra has envy stirring in my veins. That glint of understanding washes over his expression, and his wicked grin grows. He breaks off the staring contest we’re having to turn in his chair and face her, the overhead strip light flickering as though it’s some cosmic intervention from the universe, like those moments in the film where the characters get the warm and fuzzies for each other. Well, fuck that! I blame Nicholas Sparks for every irrational scenario that is going through my head right now.
He’s not hers. Plain and simple.
“The universe better come up with a better plan before I pull the fire alarm and officially end this little get-to-know-you party.”
Raven helps herself to more of the complimentary snacks and says around a mouthful of a biscuit, “It’s therapy.”
