Chapter 28 Now

Today is the day.

I hear Gabriel speaking to Sarah in the outer office and my body responds instantly—heartbeat quickens, skin flushes, and my damn nipples look like they're ready to salute. It's an eye-opening reminder of what needs to be done—today will be Gabriel Wright's last session. The insanity has gone on long enough. I started out with good intentions, but somewhere along the line, they've taken a turn.

Sarah knocks twice and pushes the door open to my office without waiting for me to respond. There's a gleam in her eye, and the corners of her smile hold a salacious quirk. I'm clearly not the only one attracted to my patient. "Your two o'clock is here," she singsongs.

I take a deep breath and nod, slipping on my mask of professionalism. "Great. Send him in."

Gabriel steps into my office. Today he offers a curt nod instead of his usual playful-type greeting. Tension lines are etched into his forehead, creases scored between his eyes, and his crow's feet have deepened. He's been squinting or frowning a lot lately.

I extend a hand toward the couch and offer a measured smile, coupled with a practiced greeting. "Hello. It's good to see you."

He takes a seat and still doesn't say anything. Now that we're only a few feet apart, I think I might've mistaken stress lines for worried ones. He looks like his dog got run over by a car. But I don't comment on a patient's appearance.

I cross my legs, one over the other. Gabriel's eyes stay trained down as he drags a hand through his hair.

"How are you doing this week?" I ask.

"Not great." He sighs.

"Oh? I'm sorry to hear that. Tell me what's going on."

"I went on a date. It didn't go well."

Jealousy rises up, thick and fast. It heats my cheeks, and I hope Gabriel doesn't notice. "What happened?"

He stares off out the window. "I took her out to dinner. We had a nice time. She invited me back to her place."

"Okay…"

His lips curl. "I couldn't… you know."

"You mean physically?"

"Yeah, I mean physically. Do I have to spell it out? Do you need me to say I couldn't get my dick hard?"

I blink a few times. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I wasn't sure if you meant you couldn't go through with it mentally or physically. We've talked a lot about the pent-up guilt you have, so I thought perhaps…"

He blows out two cheeks full of air and hangs his head. "I'm sorry. That was rude. I'm just frustrated. And talking about it is embarrass-ing."

"Okay. I understand. But why don't we back things up a bit? Because while this may have manifested itself as a physical problem, this type of issue often stems from anxiety and stress. Our minds are almost always in control of our bodies. How about you tell me about the woman you went out with? Is she someone you've known for a while or someone you've recently met?"

"Recently met."

"How did you meet?"

"Dating app."

My lips flatten to a grim line. "What does she look like?"

He lifts his head up to face me and squints. "Why does that matter?"

Shit. It doesn't. Other than to feed my morbid curiosity. I can't help but wonder about all the little blondes he flitted around with at different restaurants. It makes me wonder if all those women were dates, too.

Thankfully, I've grown adept at covering my missteps. "Perhaps she resembled your wife and it brought up a lot of mixed emotions."

"I don't think it has anything to do with her." His eyes bounce back and forth between mine for a long time, like he's contemplating something, then come into focus and lock with my gaze. "There's another woman."

It hits like a blow, a gut punch to a soft belly when you're least ex-pecting it.

I swallow. "Go on…"

Gabriel rakes a hand through his hair once again. "I'm consumed by her. I can't stop thinking about her. The only time I seem to be able to, you know, get hard is when I think about her."

My heart has been racing since Gabriel walked in, but now it feels like it's trying to batter its way out of my chest. There's not one woman but two. "Tell me about the other woman. Is this someone you've gone out with previously?"

He shakes his head. "She's off-limits."

"Is she… a student?"

"No." His jaw clenches.

I think back to when I was following him, to the woman at the Italian restaurant. The young blonde with the boisterous laugh. Is it her? Or maybe it's the woman he sometimes walks between buildings with after class? Another blonde. That one is older. Is a work colleague off-limits? Maybe she's his chairperson? That would make things sticky…

"Have you had these feelings for the other woman for a while?"

He looks away, seeming lost in thought, then meets my eyes. "Why is sex so much better when you have it with someone you shouldn't?"

"I suppose it's the forbidden-fruit effect. It's a thrill to think about being in a sexual or romantic relationship with someone we're not allowed to have. It heightens all of the senses. For some people, though, thoughts of being with someone—even someone as taboo as a priest or your boss's spouse—also provides a sense of safety."

"Or maybe…" Gabriel swallows. "Your doctor."

The air ignites, crackling dangerously around us.

I grip the armrest of my chair. "The safety comes in because while you can fantasize about the off-limits person, the reality is that it can't ever happen. If we fantasize about a person who is attainable, it's not as safe, since the reality of it is an actual possibility."

Gabriel leans in, inches closer from his seat. "What if the person who's off-limits isn't really as off-limits as we think? Then does it become dangerous?"

I open my mouth to respond—with what, I have no idea—but nothing comes out. Gabriel's eyes gleam, almost like he's enjoying my squirming. But it can't be that, can it?

He shifts back from the edge of his seat. "Have you ever had forbidden fruit, Dr. McCall? Maybe slept with a patient?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Think about it?"

My mind shuffles through the dozens of times I've thought about it—how I've masturbated to thoughts of Gabriel, how I kissed Robert while imagining it was my very own, off-limits patient—one who is more off-limits than any patient could ever be—how I wanted nothing more than to feel his big hands all over my body.

The corner of Gabriel's lip curls. "You're turning red. You have."

"No. I, I… don't think this is an appropriate conversation for us to be having."

Things are spiraling out of control, and I have no idea where the reins are to pull them and stop it. In the middle of my freak-out, there's a knock at my office door. No one ever interrupts a session, but I jump at the opportunity for it now.

"Come in!"

Sarah cracks the door open and pops her head in. "I'm really sorry to interrupt. I just got a call from my son's school. He's got a fever, and I can't reach my mom to pick him up. Is it okay if I run out?"

"Of course. Go."

"Thank you." She looks at Gabriel, who never even bothered turning his head, and makes an apologetic face. "Sorry again to interrupt."

The door closes and my office, which is a decent size for Manhattan, suddenly feels very small. And apparently, I was the only one who allowed Sarah's interruption to cut through the tension. Because Gabriel is staring at me with an intensity that makes me feel like I've touched a live wire.

"Sorry about that," I say. I force a smile, but at best, it comes out troubled.

"Can I tell you about the woman I fantasize about? Some of the things I want to do to her?"

"I don't think—"

"I want to bend her over her desk."

My jaw goes slack.

"Slide into her from behind."

My breathing comes in quick, shallow spurts. I should say something. Stop this conversation. But I can't. I want to hear more. Ride the edge.

My eyes drop to his lips, and I start to feel dizzy. The warm brown of his irises is almost completely gone, pushed out by dark pupils. I imagine what he's just said. Me, folded over my desk, Gabriel's lean body over mine. Harsh thrusts. Maybe hair pulling. Giving in to the feeling of being completely overwhelmed by another human being. Deep, deep pen-etration.

I don't even realize my eyes are fixated on my desk until they're on their way back from it and they meet Gabriel's. His lips curve to a slow, wicked smile.

"I think we should end our session for today." The words come out of my mouth so fast I don't even get a chance to give them any thought before they're spoken.

Gabriel closes his eyes. He swallows and nods. "Okay. I'm sorry."

Without another word, he gets up and walks to the door. I hold my breath as he reaches for the doorknob, pinch my eyes shut—feeling desperate for it to open, even though Sarah isn't on the other side, and there's no one to save me from myself.

I wait and wait, dying for the creak of the door opening and closing to come, but when it does, I panic and jump up.

"No! Don't go!"

Gabriel doesn't move. He stands rigidly still while my heart thunders in my chest. What am I doing? What the hell am I doing?

Long seconds tick by. I might not have any clue what I'm getting myself into, but I know the ball is in his court, so I wait for him to speak. When he finally does, he doesn't turn around.

"I think about you all the time," he says. His voice is so strained it sounds like he's in pain.

I swallow. "I think about you, too."

He drops his head and shakes it. "I know it's wrong."

"Me, too," I whisper. "But I don't care anymore."

There's another long stretch of silence. Heaviness fills the air like a room full of secrets waiting to be unveiled. I keep staring at Gabriel's back, waiting…

Eventually, he reaches for the doorknob. I shut my eyes, thinking it's over. Unlike me, he's strong enough to walk away. But then…

A loud sch-liff echoes through the room.

The door lock clanks closed.

He's locked my door!

My eyes flare open.

Gabriel turns, and our eyes meet. He stares at me with an intensity that burns my skin.

He begins to walk. Slowly. Like he's giving me a chance to stop him. But every step makes my pulse quicken. By the time he reaches my desk, I feel like a pot of boiling water and the lid is about to blow off. I don't move. Not an inch. But Gabriel keeps coming, right around the barrier of my desk, until he's so close behind me I can feel the heat of his body, his hot breath tickling my neck.

"I won't do anything you don't want." He nips at my earlobe with his teeth and an electric current races down my body. "All you need to do is tell me to stop."

A few heartbeats pass. I don't turn around. Don't face him. But I step back and press my body to his. I feel his erection digging into my lower back. Yet I still sense a hesitancy. He hasn't touched me, at least not intentionally. I let my head loll back against his chest.

"Touch me," I groan.

Gabriel reaches around and gropes my breast through the silk of my blouse. It's rough and punishing, but it's exactly how I want it. What I deserve.

"Tell me you want me to fuck you, Meredith."

I close my eyes as I pant. Gabriel buries his head in my hair and sucks along my neck. "Tell me," he growls, his lips vibrating against my skin. "Tell me you want me to fuck you."

"I do," I croak. I already know I'll hate myself tomorrow, probably even sooner, but I've never wanted anyone more than I want this man right now.

His hand slips between us. I can feel it travel down to his hard-on, and then there's a sound that makes my eyes roll back into my head. Zipper teeth coming undone. It's the most erotic thing I've ever heard in my life. Gabriel goes to turn me around, but I stop him and bend forward, bringing my chest to the top of my desk like he told me he'd imagined.

He bends over me so his mouth is again at my ear. "Do what? I want to hear you say the words."

I can barely speak, my breath too tangled in my throat for words to pass, but somehow I manage to squeak out a whisper. "I want you to hold me down and fuck me hard."

"Good girl…"

He stands, but keeps a heavy hand on my back, not allowing me to rise. Then he bunches up my skirt, pulls my panties to one side, and before I can brace for what's about to happen—I'm about to sleep with my patient—no, sleep with the husband of the woman my husband killed—his thick crown is at my opening.

And I'm wet. Dripping. Shamelessly ready and inviting.

Gabriel enters me in one thrust. There is no foreplay. Or maybe that's what we've been doing all these months. I don't know. But he buries himself deep and lets out a thunderous groan. His hips are flush against my ass, and I can feel his body shaking from the inside out. Once he steadies, he gathers my hair into one of his hands and yanks until my neck is fully extended back. Then I do something I've never done before. In the moment, I don't even realize where it's coming from, but I hold my breath. Gabriel plows into me from behind, thrust after thrust, deeper and deeper. I start to feel lightheaded, desperate for air. My body begins to shake as the seconds tick by without oxygen. Just when I think I might pass out, he buries himself and knocks the wind out of my lungs with a rush. My body responds with a surge of dopamine, serotonin, and endorphins that brings an exhilaration I've never felt before. It's an ecstasy I want to last forever. But too soon it ends. Gabriel pulls out, finishing with a roar.

I'm sated, every bone in my body liquefied, but my brain kicks on.

What did I do?

What the hell did I just do?

I'm still in a fog interrogating myself when Gabriel lets go of my hair. He tugs at my skirt, pulling it down to cover my ass once again.

"Meredith…" he says softly.

I feel a surge of adrenaline kick in. It hits so fast I feel like I might throw up. My hand clutches my throat. "You need to go."

His breathing seems to grows louder. I need it to stop. Now.

"Please," I say. "Please just go."

The room is silent. He must be holding his breath like I am. Thirty long seconds tick by, then suddenly footsteps are crossing the room. No words. No discussion about what has just transpired. Only the jingle of the door handle, the creak of the door opening.

"I'll see you next week, Dr. McCall."