Chapter 32 Now

Dr. McCall?" Gabriel squints as he approaches. But he isn't questioning whether it's me or not, he's asking what the heck I'm doing here. And it's a damn good question. One I should've asked myself before getting caught.

I blink a few times, reaching for the Academy Award–winning performance I'll need to pull this off. "Gabriel? Oh, hello."

He tilts his head, studying me. "What are you doing in this neighborhood? Do you live around here?"

"I, uh, not too far." I point down the block and make up the first thing that comes to mind. "I was just at the cell phone store. My phone seems to be on the fritz."

He holds my eyes. "Which one? The Verizon at the corner?"

I feel like a drowning woman who was just thrown a lifeline. "Yes, that's the one. The Verizon at the corner."

He smiles. Actually, it's more like a grin. "Is it weird to call you Dr. McCall? You know, after our last… session."

My cheeks heat. "About that…" He's opened the door. I need to say my piece and slam it back closed. Lock it and throw away the key forever. Yet I struggle to find the words to tell him how wildly inappropriate our last session was.

Before my mouth starts moving, Gabriel reaches out and cups my cheek. He caresses it with his thumb. "I've missed you, Meredith." He steps closer and brings his mouth to my ear. "Did you miss me?"

Goose bumps prickle my arms, and every hair on my body jumps for the sky. My mind races with so many thoughts. I should tell him I didn't miss him and what happened between us was a colossal mistake. But that's not the truth, is it? Well, maybe the last part is, but I did miss him. And my body's reaction is proof of that. Though… something dawns on me, and I force myself to take a step back.

"You canceled your appointment again. I thought you were away?"

Gabriel's hand at my cheek slides to the back of my neck. He wraps his long fingers around and squeezes. Not enough to hurt, but enough that it reminds me how strong he is, how he held my body flush to the desk with one hand while he took me from behind.

"My plans changed. I just landed a little while ago. I was going to call your office first thing in the morning to see if I could get back on your schedule for Friday."

"Oh."

"Your assistant offered me an online session. But after the way we left things last time, I thought you might need some space. I also figured it might be best if, when we did talk, it was in person."

I stare into his eyes, looking for a hint of insincerity. Is he lying? Did he really just get in? Was he ever actually away?

But I can't find anything—not one way or the other.

He smiles. "I answered your question, but you still haven't answered mine, Meredith."

I'm backtracking through our conversation to figure out what question he's talking about when he chuckles. "I asked if you missed me, too."

"Oh," I say again. Apparently I'm a brilliant conversationalist today.

Gabriel bites down on his bottom lip. "Come home with me. I only live a few blocks away."

It's a terrible idea, and I know it. But… I would like to see the inside of his apartment. Maybe it will help me figure out this man. Plus, I'm not convinced he was even away. A suitcase next to the door might put my mind at ease that he's been truthful with me.

Before I finish deliberating, he's already nudging me. "Come on. We'll have a glass of wine."

The next thing I know, Gabriel is opening the door to his building. As I walk through the lobby, I scan the rows of mailboxes, the same ones I snuck in to look at months ago to confirm his identity, the first time I saw him from the coffee shop window.

He pushes a button to call the elevator. "Do you like red or white?"

"Either is fine."

"Does white go bad if it's not opened? I think I have a bottle in the fridge. But it's probably at least three months old."

Funny. Mine only lasts about three hours.

I force a smile. "I think it's good for a few years."

My pulse speeds up as the elevator doors slide open and we step inside. I can't believe I'm doing this. Going into Gabriel Wright's apartment. I'm crossing a line, but I've crossed so many already, what's one more?

"How was your week?" Gabriel asks.

"Good. And yours?" I pause and then add, "Your trip was unexpected, right? I hope everything is okay."

"It is now." He smiles.

I have ten follow-up questions on the tip of my tongue. Where were you? Who were you with? What happened that wasn't okay but is now? Yet instead, I merely smile back.

"I'm glad."

When we arrive on the fourth floor, Gabriel puts his hand on my back. He steers me out of the elevator car and to the left. Three doors down, he digs keys out of his pocket. "I hope I didn't leave any underwear on the floor. I wasn't expecting company."

Does that mean he's not seeing anyone else, or did he just not invite them over today? It's funny, I have so many good questions, yet none of them leaves my mouth.

Gabriel flicks on the lights. We walk in through a narrow hallway that dumps into a living room. My eyes jump around as fast as my heart beats. I'm looking for clues, but I'm not sure which mystery I'm trying to solve. The first thing I notice is there's no luggage. Not by the door and not in the living room. It takes a few days for mine to move more than a few inches from the threshold of my apartment when I return from a trip. Could he be the type that immediately rolls the suitcase into the bedroom and unpacks? Perhaps his luggage is already emptied and stowed.

The second thing I notice is he has a lot of books. Beautiful, leather-bound, old ones. The kind you find in a collectible store where the owner wears white gloves to touch editions kept behind locked glass. One entire wall is lined with built-in shelving. The middle, longest section sags from the weight of the stacks.

Gabriel walks up behind me as I take it all in and slips my coat from my shoulders. "I guess my secret is out. I'm a bookworm."

I smile. "Your collection is impressive."

He disappears with my coat and returns to stand close behind me once again. We're not touching, but I feel the heat emanating from his body, his hot breath tickling my neck. He wraps his hands around my shoulders, and I jump at his touch.

"Someone's on edge," he says. He's behind me still, but I can hear the smile in his voice.

"This, us, it's…" I'm again searching my mental thesaurus for the right word—inappropriate, unethical, immoral, depraved. I need to be careful my choice doesn't represent more than my being his doctor.

"Stop overthinking." Gabriel squeezes my shoulders. "We're two consenting adults. Both single."

Both single because of my husband. Because of me.

He leans in and kisses my neck. Soft lips rumble on my skin as he speaks. "Is this okay?"

I swallow and nod.

"I thought about you often this week," he whispers. "Did you think about me?"

Only every waking moment…

My breathing grows labored. His touch feels so good, so right, yet I know it's not. When I don't answer, he nips at my neck.

I gasp.

"You like that, don't you?" Again I hear the smile in his voice. "I have not been able to stop thinking about you telling me to hold you down and fuck you hard."

I swallow.

"Did you think about me?" he asks. "Think about what happened at our last session?"

I nod. It might be the only honest thing I've disclosed since he spotted me on the street.

"Good." He kisses over the skin he's nipped at. "Very good, Meredith."

Gabriel snakes one arm around my waist and uses it to pull me flush against him. His body is so hard, so warm. He sucks along my collarbone, and my eyes close, head lolling back shamelessly to give him better access. And then we're moving. Walking. He's guiding me, his body still pressed firmly to mine from behind. We step through a doorway. I see the bed, feel my knees hit the sideboard as we walk straight to it. I yield to the firm hand on my back that presses me forward until my chest is against the mattress.

Gabriel folds over me, his front to my back. He gathers my hands in one of his and stretches my arms up over my head. His teeth nip my earlobe, and I can't help myself. I moan.

"I love that sound." He groans. "I've dreamed about it every night since your office."

His free hand slips between us, under my dress. It reaches between my legs, impatiently yanks my panties to one side, and then his fingers are at my slick opening. "You think it's wrong, yet you're so wet already." Two, maybe three, fingers plunge inside. I'm not even sure, but it makes me gasp. It's rough, no foreplay, just like last time. My eyes roll into the back of my head, and another moan escapes my mouth when he pumps.

"Beautiful," Gabriel grits. His fingers pull almost all the way out and then sink deeper. I don't even catch my breath before he does it again. Then again. And again. I'm on the brink of flying over the edge when he abruptly stops.

He stands. I vaguely hear the sound of a belt opening, zipper being tugged down, and then I feel his wide, silky crown at my opening. Though he doesn't push inside. Instead, he reaches for my hair, wraps it around his fist.

"You want it hard again?"

I want it any way he wants to give it, but hard—so hard it's punishing—feels right. So I nod. "Harder."

The hand wrapped in my hair abruptly yanks—so damn hard that I lift off the bed. Gabriel uses his free hand to hoist me up at the waist, prop me up on all fours on the mattress. My scalp burns from how harshly he's still pulling my hair, but he enters me in one deep thrust, and I forget all about the pain. Or maybe the pain adds to my pleasure, heightens all of my other senses, because nothing has ever felt so good. He's buried so deeply inside me, my neck extended back. I'm completely under his control, and my body actually relaxes, gives in to him. I've been a knot of tension since our encounter last week in my office, thinking I needed to tell him I'd made a mistake, that this could never happen again. But it turns out this was exactly what I needed.

Gabriel powers into me from behind. It's rough and demanding, but I need it to hurt more. So I push back when he thrusts forward, each drive colliding with a loud smack. It's pummeling and bruising. I'll probably need to sit on a pillow tomorrow and will still feel battered, but I love every second of it. Each plunge is more punishing than the last, boring deeper and deeper. My body climaxes without warning. There are no thoughts in my head—no worry, no sadness, no regret—only unbridled pleasure rimmed with pain that I never want to end. But of course it does. Gabriel roars to his finish and pulls out.

I'm panting. My mind that was so eagerly blank only seconds ago immediately fills with racing thoughts.

Gabriel moves. My blurry eyes follow him around the room until he disappears behind a door. The bathroom, I assume. Then my vision comes into focus, and I see my surroundings for the first time. Things start to flash faster than my racing breaths.

A framed wedding photo.

A woman's bathrobe hanging on the back of a closet door.

A wedding ring on the nightstand.

Polaroids taped to the mirror above the dresser.

Smiling faces.

Kissing.

A beautiful little girl.

My eyes flood with tears.

A beautiful, perfect little girl.

Who is dead.

Dead.

I stand. And then run.

Through the book-lined living room.

Down the narrow hallway.

Out the apartment door.

Somehow I manage to grab my purse and scarf on the way out, but my jacket is a lost cause.

I find a stairwell and keep going.

Down four flights of stairs.

Out onto the street.

I don't stop running for blocks, until I reach a corner and make a sharp turn. Then I lean against a brick building, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. I'm not sure how long it takes. It's a while. But eventually my breathing returns to normal. I stand and look around. People are coming and going, like it's any other boring day of the week. No one pays attention to me. It's New York City, after all. An out-of-breath woman appearing slightly crazed is nothing unusual, I suppose. But then I really look around. I'm at the corner where I told Gabriel I'd gone to get my phone fixed. He'd asked if it was the Verizon store. He'd grinned when I said yes.

But there's no Verizon store here…