My eyes search her face for a reaction, but I get nothing this time.
Feeling a bit deflated, I pick up my own coffee and rest back in the chair.
“I got you a black coffee,” I tell her. “I wasn’t sure if you took milk or sugar.” I reach into my pocket and pull out some tiny milk capsules and sugar sachets.
“Black is perfect.” She smiles, the cup by her lips. Then, she takes a sip.
She drinks black coffee and wears red lipstick.
She’s fucking perfect.
“So, I was thinking”—she puts the coffee back down—“about how we should approach your treatment going forward.”
“Well, am I right in thinking that you feel that to get your life back, you need to be able to race?”
“I don’t feel. I know,” I say with surety.
“Okay. So, of course, you need to talk about the accident, get those feelings out there for you to deal with them. Clearly, bottling them up isn’t working for you. I thought, while we’re doing that, we can work on getting you back in a car.”
All my muscles stiffen up, and she notices.
“Baby steps,” she says softly. “What I mean is, I was thinking we could go outside, sit in my car, and do our session in there.”
I lift a brow. “Your methods are a little strange. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Yes. Right before they tell me that my methods really helped them.”
A smile edges her lips, and it’s sexy as fuck.
“Confident?” I tease.
“Confidence is surety, and I’m sure this will help.”
“Okay.” I pick up my coffee and get to my feet. “Lead the way.”
I give a sweeping hand gesture as she gets to her feet.
“Let me just grab my car keys,” she says.
I watch her walk away from me, over to her desk, where she leans overs to retrieve her keys. The fabric of her fitted pencil skirt stretches over her ass.
She has an amazing ass.
God, the things I could do to that ass while she’s bent over that desk.
My cock starts to stir in my pants. I have to quickly rearrange myself before she turns back around to me.
“Should I bring the sandwiches as well?” I ask.
“Of course.” She smiles up at me, as she bends to retrieve her coffee from the table.
Snatching up the bag containing the sandwiches, I wait for her to round the coffee table, then, I follow her out of the office and to her car.
THE MOMENT WE’RE SEATED IN MY CAR, I wonder if I’ve made a mistake, putting myself in such close proximity to Leandro.
I can smell the sandalwood in his aftershave along with his own unique scent, and it’s doing things to me.
The man is like a walking sexual conductor.
Because a man has never affected me in this way before.
I haven’t ever felt as physically attracted to a man as I do Leandro.
I’m his therapist.
The reminder hits me like a blast of cold water in the face, and my libido. I need to put a stop to my feelings and thoughts—right now.
“Nice car,” he comments from the passenger seat.
I have to have a cool car with a car-obsessed son. Jett picked it out. He saw it at the showroom, and it was love at first sight for him, so of course, I had to buy it.
There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my son, including taking out a twenty-thousand-pound loan to buy a fifteen-year-old Aston Martin that had seventy-five-thousand miles on the clock. I have to admit, it is a stunning car and awesome to drive. I feel like a movie star when I drive it.
I almost tell Leandro that it was Jett who talked me into buying it, but I stop myself. I don’t share my private life with patients.
“A 2000 Aston Martin DB7 Vantage, right?”
“Right.” I smile. “You seem surprised I have this car.”
He blinks back at me, his shoulder lifting in a half shrug. “I guess I just expected you to have a…I don’t know, an Audi or a Toyota. This doesn’t fit with your…image.”
“You mean, the image that you have of me.”
Something passes through his eyes that I can’t discern.
“I guess.” He looks away. “So, are you into cars?”
“No. But someone close to me is. I was talked into buying this. It’s pretty, and it gets me from A to B, so I’m happy.” I let out a light laugh.
He laughs, and it’s rich and deep. “That sounds like something I would expect you, a woman, to say.”
“Well, I’m glad I tick off at least one of your stereotypical boxes.”
He turns to look at me. His stare is direct and intense. “You tick more than one box.”
I feel a tremor deep inside. I swallow down.
I tear my eyes from his. “What sandwiches did you bring?”
There’s a slight pause before he answers, “I played it safe.” He reaches into the bag and pulls them out. “Ham or turkey?”
He hands it over. I make sure not to touch his fingers, like when he handed me the coffee earlier. I felt like I had an electrical surge pulsing up my finger. It took everything in me to maintain my composure.
I unwrap the sandwich and take a bite. I have to hold back a moan. I haven’t eaten all day, and right now, this sandwich tastes like heaven.
Putting the sandwich on my lap, I pick up my coffee from the cup holder in my car, and I catch Leandro looking away from me.
Was he watching me?
I scratch the thought from my mind and focus on my job, which is helping him.