Now she was in trouble.
Damn him. It was all his fault. All of that rippling male sexuality squeezed into a tiny office space would make any woman crazy. He practically gobbled up all the oxygen, and his wicked smiles and hot inky eyes roving over her figure should be illegal. Who owned biceps that massive? Her fingers curled with the need to sink her nails into them and test the hardness. She bet he’d be able to lift her high and pin her against the wall without strain, without needing a breath. How hot was that?
He was literally the worst type of man in the world to be attracted to. All that experience training her mind to be stronger than her body faded to nothing when he looked at her as if he planned on ripping off her clothes and ravishing every inch of her body with his tongue and lips and teeth.
Oh my God, what was she doing?
Arilyn fought the treacherous, weak need for his touch and struggled for calm. She needed to be in control of the situation, speak firmly, and get the session back on track.
Before he reached her.
“There’s no need to get any closer or prove your point. I made an error, and I apologize again. Why don’t we take a break, get some water, and meet back in a few minutes?”
His gaze pinned her to the chair. He took a few more steps.
Her heart exploded in her chest. Arilyn tried to breathe.
“W-We need to make sure we keep our professional distance and don’t blur any of the lines. I’m your counselor and teacher. Emotional highs and lows are expected when we’re exploring triggers that cause anger.”
He didn’t break a smile or his stride. He stopped in front of her, forcing her head to tilt way, way back to hold her ground. Showing strength was key. Stay cool and calm. Even though his body heat was blistering in waves around her, and he smelled so damn good, like woods and musk and ocean and soap. With his tight, worn jeans, black T-shirt stretched over meaty biceps, and the deadly focus from those carved features, a shiver raced down her spine. Sexy stubble hugged that square jawline, emphasizing the lush softness to his lips, framed like a gift. He was total male predator, domineering cop, and sexual alpha male wrapped up in one package.
“Let’s talk triggers.”
She shivered. “Y-Yes. For instance, it seems we hit one now. Why don’t we talk and explore it?”
He laughed low. “Do you soothe all your angry male clients this way? Talk them down with that musical voice of yours? Pretend to know what they’ve gone through? Tell them the world is a big, beautiful place full of rainbows and leprechaun gold?” He dropped his voice. “Is that what you tell yourself?”
She jerked in the chair. Her breath strangled in her throat. He wasn’t touching her, yet her skin blistered from his nearness. “I understand more than you think,” she said calmly.
“Bullshit. You know nothing about hard times or pain, other than the normal breakup of a relationship. How do you expect to counsel us on anger when you’ve denied yourself that human emotion?”
His words stung and pummeled. She lifted her arms halfway to cover her face from the attack. Then felt herself snap.
She jumped from the chair and faced him head-on. The look of surprise on his face only urged her forward. “You want to know how I know about pain? Do you think I was raised in a bubble of goodness and light, dragged from Buddha’s mountaintop? I earned my peace by working for it! I sweat blood and tears and opened myself up for something better to climb out of such a deep depression I never thought I’d survive. My mother died of cancer. I watched her disintegrate before my eyes, changing from a laughing, robust woman to a shell. She smoked, drank, partied, had bad food. She was the poster child of extremes in the pursuit of fun. Before I barely buried her, my father died right afterward, committing suicide because he couldn’t live without my mother. You think I wasn’t angry? Sometimes I’d scream at the top of my lungs just to stay sane. My father killed himself because I wasn’t enough. Try living with that one.”
“Arilyn—”
“No, I’m not done. I was a complete nerd and geek and had difficulty making friends. I was left alone with no one except my grandfather. Instead of taking a bucket of pills to live or becoming like my mother and trashing my body, I decided to search for more. I studied yoga, meditation, religion, and learned how to live in the light rather than in the darkness. I learned how to treat my body like the temple it is. I forced myself to open up and confess my fears and my pain to a therapist. I decided to help others, but I work on myself every damn day, even though I sometimes don’t want to.”
The silence was shattering. Her righteous anger drained away and left her with pure horror. What she shared almost crippled her, but she dug deep and owned every last shred of truth. Why not? Why hide any more from him or pretend to be something she wasn’t? Maybe it was best he knew all her crappy secrets and that most of the time she had no idea what she was doing. That she’d been broken once, too.
“Feel better now?” she asked. “I believe our session is over. I’ll see you tomorrow in class.” Wrapping the last shred of her dignity around her, she backed away around the chair and walked to her desk. Lengthening her breath, she reconnected with her center and allowed the rioting emotions to ride through her.
He turned and stopped at the door. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Yes, I do.” He glanced at her. Those inky eyes pierced into hers and right through to her soul. The energy between them knotted tighter. “I misjudged you. I make mistakes, too, and when I do, I say I’m sorry.”