Chapter 22 Now

Thank you again for agreeing to see me for a little while longer."

Gabriel's beard is gone. It's the first time I've seen the angular lines of his jaw, the fullness of his lips. I'd liked his scruff. But this—this is a whole different level. He notices me staring, so I have to say some-thing.

"I'm sorry." I smile and motion to my own chin. "You look so different without your beard."

He flashes a crooked smile. "Different good or different bad?"

Considering he's been hiding bone structure that would make a sculptor weep and lips women would pay a small fortune for, I definitely prefer seeing more of him. Yet I go for the objective answer.

"You can pull off either look."

"That's a very safe response. Something like I might give a woman if she asks me which dress looks best."

"Well, I suppose this way, clean-shaven, I can see more of your face. It shows your expressions more, which helps me understand what you're feeling better. So for professional reasons, I'll go with no beard."

"Uh-oh." He smirks. "I'd better grow it back if you're going to be able to see what I'm feeling."

I smile. He's in a playful mood today. Borderline flirty, even. I'm curious why.

I rest my hands on the closed notebook on my lap. "So how have things been since our last session? Anything new going on?"

Gabriel looks down at his feet. "It's a little embarrassing to talk about, but yeah, something has come up." He looks at me with a shy smile, reads the confusion on my face, and laughs. "My sex drive has sort of come back."

I swallow past a lump of unexpected jealousy in my throat. "I see. So you've met someone?"

"No, I just meant—well, it's been a long time since I wanted any pleasure." Gabriel lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers. "Even self-pleasure."

Oh. Oh!

The jealousy rising through my chest with a burn just seconds earlier is replaced by something different. Something very, very different.

This man.

That hand.

I'm thankful I don't blush that easily.

I clear my throat. "Well, sexual deprivation as a form of punishing oneself is pretty common. You've previously expressed that you felt guilt when you went out on a date, that it felt wrong to be with another woman because you still felt married."

"Which is fucked-up." Gabriel shakes his head. "Sorry. Excuse my language. But it's crazy to me that I could feel like that when our sex life had been pretty much nonexistent for a long time."

I shift in my chair and open my notebook. "Let's talk about that. You mentioned your wife had an affair. How long before she passed away did that occur?"

Gabriel scoffs. "Which one are we talking about?"

My heart squeezes. "Oh. I didn't realize there was more than one."

He looks away. "Why do people cheat?"

"That's a very big question, with many answers."

"Tell me some of them. The answers, I mean."

We talk for a long time about the possible reasons people stray—commitment issues, revenge, emotional disconnect, unmet needs, low self-esteem, even simply falling out of love. When our conversation comes to a lull, I fold my hands.

"Do any of the reasons we've discussed feel like they might be the answer you're looking for?"

"More than one, actually." He sighs and smiles sadly. "But can we go back to this sexual-deprivation thing you mentioned? I wouldn't have to do it intentionally for it to happen?"

I shake my head. "No, we do a lot of things to ourselves unconsciously as a form of punishment—self-sabotage, procrastination, alienating ourselves from others. There are many different types of deprivation that can be acts of self-punishment. The harder we discipline ourselves, the more we can ease whatever feelings of guilt we have."

"It's been nearly two years. I'd say my punishment was pretty severe."

I smile and scribble a note on my pad.

"If I'm, you know, taking care of business myself again," he continues, "does that mean my punishment is over? That I won't feel like crap the next time a woman puts it out there that I should stay the night?"

"I don't know that your mind deciding it's time to ease up on your ability to feel pleasure alone is the same thing as your conscience giving you free rein to be with women."

"Has enough time passed, though? How long are you supposed to wait?"

"There isn't a set timeline for these things. Everyone is different. Only you know the answer to when you're ready."

Gabriel seems to think about that for a moment. Then he lifts his eyes to mine. "What about you? How long did it take you to get back in the saddle after your divorce?"

I smile. "I'll have to let you know on that."

Gabriel lets out a hearty laugh. "Well, at least it's nice to know I'm not the only one depraved."

I smile. "Deprived, not depraved."

My eyes drop to his mouth. When the tip of his tongue peeks out and glides along his bottom lip, I feel it everywhere. Everywhere.

There's a crackle in the air as my eyes lift and meet his. At least, there is for me. My heart slams against my ribs. My breaths grow shallow and rapid. Oh God. Maybe it's just me? But I can't seem to unlock my eyes from his. And then…

The buzzer goes off.

I'm not sure if I'm more relieved or more disappointed, but it effectively kills the moment, the one I'm still not sure whether I was alone in feeling.

I clear my throat. "Well, it seems our time is up."

Gabriel's eyes give nothing away. "I guess we pick up where we left off next week?"

Normally, I don't rush a patient out the door, but today I stand to move things along. I need a minute to myself. Maybe an hour. Maybe a day. And definitely a tall glass of cold water. Possibly a shower.

Gabriel is quiet as he makes his way out. He stops and turns back with his hand on the doorknob. "Any dates in the near future at Sunny's?"

"No."

He flashes a smile. "See you next week, Doc."

It's after midnight, and I'm still obsessing over my session with Gabriel today. The attraction. The spark. It's been a long time since my senses came alive like that. Not since you. Even all these hours later, the yearning inside me is so overwhelming that I can't seem to relax enough to sleep.

I stare up at the ceiling in the dark. Every time I shut my eyes, I picture the way Gabriel looked today. Piercing eyes, that sexy ghost of a smile playing on his lips, the way his tongue ran along the flesh of his mouth…

Sweat breaks out on my forehead as I think about what he would've done if I'd made a move.

Would he have kissed me back?

I imagine Gabriel's lips crushed to mine.

My nails digging into the skin of his back.

Him inside me.

Hard.

Deep.

Oh God.

The rational part of me itches to rear its ugly head and berate me for even thinking about a patient this way. And not just any patient, of course. But the irrational part of me is stronger tonight. It wants to be reckless. So I do something I haven't done in a very long time. I reach into my nightstand to take out my vibrator.

It hums to life with a sound that immediately sets my body on fire, and I trail it painstakingly slowly along my skin—down my chin, over my collarbone, pulsating on my nipples until I'm trembling. Then still lower and lower until it slips into my panties and I open my legs wide, feeling the build of an orgasm already forming. Like thunder before the storm.

Maybe Gabriel was right after all. We're depraved, not deprived.