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I barely closed my eyes that night.

All I could think about was my alarm set to go off at six the next morning.

Everything in that bathroom replayed in my head.

How I kneeled in front of her—the soft caress her hand drew against my cheek, or her hands running softly through my curls.

It completely contrasted when she bent me over the sink—which she unironically mentioned doing when I first met her at that bar.

It wasn't an empty threat.

The NDA was all I could think about, all night and morning, wondering what the other paperwork consisted of.

I knew we were just hooking up, so maybe she just wanted to ensure it stayed private between us.

I was up before my alarm for once due to my inability to sleep, getting ready early so I didn't risk being late.

The last thing I want to do is rock the instability of this.

It was already hard enough begging her to hook up with me.

I pulled on a smooth long-sleeve shirt that I paired with soft pink sweatpants and platform Adidas.

I wore my curly hair up in a bun with an intentionally messy look, allowing short curls to frame my face.

For once I opted for no makeup aside from gelling my brows down and smoothing chapstick over my lips.

It was more natural than my usual look, but I liked it—especially since it was more low maintenance.

I had time to make myself waffles in the toaster, drizzling them in syrup to eat really quickly before I had to leave.

Traffic was still heavy given it was a little past six in the morning and everyone was headed to work.

Luckily, I was a few minutes ahead, so I had nothing to worry about.

I even found parallel parking for once.

The lobby was still insanely busy—whether people were leaving or arriving for work.

I had to fit into one of the filled elevators, riding it up to the forty-fifth floor.

There were stops made on numerous levels, naturally frying my nerves.

I was now on time rather than early due to the traffic and this elevator that just had to fucking stop on every other level.

Then finally, the elevator dinged on my floor, letting me off into the familiar dim reception area.

For once, Sienna wasn't present and neither was Reagan, making me smile more than I truly should've.

Less about Reagan's absence and more about Sienna's of course.

I hesitantly walked past the empty lobby, walking down the quiet hallway.

It was fucking weird being at the office when no one was here—almost unnervingly quiet.

I drew in a deep breath when I finally made it to her office door.

It was left cracked open slightly, making me hesitate.

I wasn't sure if I should knock or just walk in.

I mean, she invited me here at seven herself.

I don't think either option matters.

I quickly shook my head at my thoughts, deciding to just open the door—fully walking into her office.

The familiar jasmine scent wrapped around me, my eyes immediately landing on her as she sat at her desk.

Her dark hair was down in usual soft waves, her bangs framing her sharp face with her stare locked on me.

"Good morning, Liberty," she spoke before I could, smoothly standing from her chair.

Her shiny black stilettos clicked gently against the floor as she rose to her tall height, wearing a white button-down and black dress pants.

"Good morning doc," I murmured, glancing up to meet her stare with a smile.

I don't know why I suddenly feel so fucking awkward right now.

Dr. Leclair motioned her head at me, "Come here," she calmly instructed, causing me to close the door behind me and take a few steps toward her.

That's when I got a better view of her desk.

And the thick stack of papers that I knew were meant for me.

"That's a lot of paperwork," I pointed out with a raised brow, stopping in front of her by the desk.

"I'll guide you through it," she said, her calm tone softened with reassurance.

But all I could focus on was the double meaning her words held.

I drew in a slight breath, feeling her hand pressed to my upper back and guiding me around her desk.

"I can sit?" I asked her, unsure if she wanted me in her chair specifically.

"Yes, Liberty, you can sit," she said, almost amused by my question.

I nodded hesitantly, walking over to sit in her cushioned office chair.

It was an odd view, one I wasn't accustomed to in the slightest.

But I liked it—I liked sitting in her chair.

I glanced down when she reached for the heavyweight pen by the stack of papers, handing it to me.

I drew in another deep breath when she leaned over me, her familiar sweet scent mixed with the cologne she wore, wrapping around me entirely.

I tried my best to focus as she carefully flipped the page over, but it was so fucking hard.

Especially when I felt the smoothness of her hand against the back of my exposed neck—a firm but grounding presence.

"This is your standard NDA," she explained as my eyes trailed over the numerous clauses and legal terms, "This ensures our arrangement stays between us. Neither of us can disclose the details to any outside parties."

I nodded hesitantly, noticing her elegant signature at the bottom of the page.

"Do you have any questions?" she asked me, now caressing the back of her fingers against my neck.

"No," I murmured, lowering the pen toward the signature line as I tried my best to write my name as elegantly as hers.

But it felt nearly impossible to measure up to hers.

"Good," I heard her say, using her other hand to flip through a few pages, "Next is a Consent and Waiver agreement, stating that you're entering this agreement willingly."

I nodded a few times, my eyes trailing the different clauses again before lowering the pen and signing my name below hers.

"Good, Liberty," she said, her voice soft with praise as she turned a few more pages, "Onto the Mental Health and Autonomy statement."

I tilted my head as I briefly read through the different clauses, trying to focus on anything other than her hand caressing the back of my neck.

"Essentially, this states that you're mentally sound and not being taken advantage of. You understand you can leave this arrangement or therapy at any time," she briefly explained as I tried to process her words fully.

"So you will continue as my therapist?" I asked with a growing smile, briefly reading over the agreement in front of me.

"I'll attempt to," Dr. Leclair corrected, trailing her hand across my covered shoulder, "But I can't assure you I'll be able to fully help, as our arrangement complicates our professional relationship," she paused, letting her words process with me, "It's highly unethical to treat you as someone who is actively involved in my life."

"But you will right?" I emphasized, not even caring about therapy in general.

I just didn't want to go to anyone else.

And my mother is basically forcing me.

"Yes, Liberty, I will," she calmly said, trailing her hand back up my shoulder before wrapping it around my neck, "I feel it's necessary to highlight that I can only treat you to a certain degree."

I shrugged, "It works for me either way," I admitted, immediately signing my name on the line below her signature.

I heard her hum in acknowledgment, reaching down to flip a few more pages.

That's when I zoned in on her short nails coated in nude polish—a silver ring band around her middle finger and another around her thumb.

Her hands always look so... polished and clean.

Everything about her seems like that—not one thing is out of place when it comes to her.

"This is a Dual Relationship and Conflict of Interest Disclosure," she explained, softly grazing her short nails over the bare skin of my neck. "It acknowledges our dual arrangement in and out of the office."

I nodded a few times, lowering the pen to sign my name under hers again.

But all I could think about was how specific this paperwork was.

And if she's done this often?

"This is a Liability Waiver," she spoke again, snapping me out of my thoughts as she flipped a few more pages, "This states you won't take legal action for professional misconduct, malpractice, or emotional distress."

I nodded a few times, even if I was suddenly thinking about her doing this with other women before me.

She never truly answered my question from a couple of weeks ago—whether she had done things with a patient before.

It made something sink in my stomach, suddenly rethinking all of this.

"Is there a question, Liberty?" she asked me, making me realize I had halted my actions.

I shook my head, "No, I was just... you know," I suddenly cleared my throat, "Just wondering if you've done this before," I purposely mentioned, not even bothering to fight my intrusive thoughts as I signed my name on the line below hers again.

"Legally, I can't disclose that," Dr. Leclair carefully replied, making me furrow my brows.

"So you have done this before?" I asked, now turning my head to divert my attention to her.

That would've been nice to fucking know before agreeing to hook up with her.

"If this is a possible issue, I need to know now, Liberty," she said, disregarding my question as her blue eyes held mine.

I felt my face burn up, especially at the idea of her hooking up with other women before me—ones that would've needed to sign these exact documents.

And then I wondered why it even mattered.

Why does it matter?

I've personally had many hook-ups myself—and I've never asked any of them if they've fucked other women before.

So her past shouldn't matter.

I guess it just irritates me.

"It's not," I suddenly said, breaking her stare as I turned around in the chair.

"Good," she calmly said, carefully sliding the stack of signed contracts aside.

I glanced down when she opened the left desk drawer, revealing a small stack of papers.

"And what's this?" I asked as she set the papers in front of me, "Is this where I sign my soul over to you?" I jokingly asked her.

She lazily raised her brows, "That would require a lot more paperwork," she said, making my brows furrow deeply.

Suddenly I was cautiously eyeing the papers.

Until her lips suddenly twitched up, entirely amused by my reaction.

"Jesus, I'm not serious, Liberty," she said, her lips lifting even more into a smile I hadn't quite witnessed on her.

It was still small, but god was it there.

I felt my lips unconsciously twitch up, "I'm only used to you being serious," I admitted in a soft whisper, smiling even wider as I glanced down at her lips still tugged up into a soft smile.

"It's a part of my profession, Liberty," Dr. Leclair said, shaking her head as she reached for the papers, "I assure you, I'm not always serious."

I nodded a few times, softly laughing at the fact that I genuinely believed she would have me sell my soul to her.

I'm so... unaccustomed to her humor.

I think that's the first joke she's ever made with me.

"This is a Boundaries Agreement," she began explaining to me, causing me to focus back on the current task at hand, "This one should be easier for you to read."

I nodded, briefly trailing my eyes over the list as I read it.

· Any public displays of affection or acknowledgment of their relationship will be at the sole discretion of Monroe Leclair.

· Liberty Fierro acknowledges that certain aspects of their relationship, including but not limited to discipline, control, and enforcement of boundaries, will be determined by Monroe Leclair.

That was only two out of ten lines or so, but I felt like I could properly understand a contract for once.

The more I read, the more nervous I got.

Mostly because it was clear she would hold the control in all of this.

All of the control actually.

Is this even about just hooking up anymore?

"What is it?" she suddenly asked me, probably noticing my furrowed brows or how I'm noticeably in deep thought.

She is my therapist.

"This doesn't feel like just a hook-up situation," I said, glancing away from the papers to meet her stare.

Dr. Leclair tilted her head at my words, "I don't operate like that," she briefly explained, "I prefer a different dynamic. A more exclusive one."

I pursed my lips together, genuinely wondering what I had begged for last night.

Because suddenly I'm contemplating my past decisions.

I just wanted to sleep with her again, but clearly, that comes with a lot of baggage.

Or should I say paperwork and outlined rules?

"Is there like a timeline on this?" I questioned, determining that I wouldn't mind trying this dynamic with her if it meant I could end it.

I'm always up for something new.

I also worked way too fucking hard to back down now.

Even if all this paperwork is overstimulating me a little.

"You have the power to end this at any time, Liberty," she didn't hesitate to say, her blue eyes trailing my face for a moment.

It was brief, but I could feel the same tension burning between us.

Especially when she reached up, gently cupping my cheek in her hand.

It made a warmth spread across my cheeks, feeling goosebumps roll down my spine.

"You seem hesitant," she observed as her eyes locked back with mine, smoothing her thumb across my soft skin.

I let out a soft sigh, unconsciously relaxing into her touch, "I'm just thinking about all the different rules to this and then the control thing. You would have a lot of control and I'm not really used to giving that up in this kind of circumstance—I've never even been in this circumstance, I'm used to more of the casual thing and..." I trailed off, unsure how to explain the thoughts in my head.

But she somehow understood me perfectly, nodding once at my honest words.

"I understand it's overwhelming and new to you, Liberty," she said, her tone softer with me, "I want to clarify that this is far beyond just a hook-up situation between us," she added, subtly tracing her fingers across my jawline toward my chin

It made it so much harder to focus, especially with her featherlight touch.

I suddenly felt tired.

"Far beyond? What does that mean?" I asked her with furrowed brows.

She pursed her lips at my question, calculating her next words as she remained silent for a brief moment.

Then she leaned in closer, her blue eyes holding mine, "I want you to imagine a world where you can surrender control, where you feel confident, safe, and cared for. A world where you don't need to question anything because I'll make sure you're always taken care of," she whispered, her fingers gently yet firmly tilting my chin up, "That's the world I'll create for you, Liberty. Something beyond anything casual. I'll handle everything for you."

Her soft words rang around me like an echo, processing them as she ran the back of her hand down the column of my neck.

It made me draw in a deep breath, feeling shivers crawl down my spine at her actions.

And her stare.

How her blue eyes practically melted into mine.

She'll handle everything for me.

I'll be in her world.

That sounds so much better than just hooking up with her.

"Okay," I suddenly said as I slowly turned my attention to the papers in front of me, causing her hand to rest at the back of my neck again, "That sounds better to me."

And I wasn't lying—I felt a lot fucking better knowing what I was getting into.

Or that I could give her this amount of power and everything will be okay.

That she'll always take care of me.

I could also end this at any moment.

"Good, Liberty," she said, her voice softer between us as I tried to focus on reading the list, "I know it's exhausting to feel like you have to control everything, but you don't have to anymore. I'm here to take that burden off of you."

I smiled slightly at her words, "I never thought about it like that," I admitted in a soft murmur, "I guess it is kind of exhausting having to always be in control," I added honestly as I flipped the page to read the rest of the list.

Then the signature line awaited me yet again, carefully writing out my name in cursive below hers.

"Good girl," Dr. Leclair said, her voice low and calm as she picked up the sign papers, "That concludes the paperwork."

I felt my face burn up from her praise, "That's all?" I asked, surprised that there wasn't more.

Then again, that was still a lot of paperwork.

"Yes, now onto more important matters," Dr. Leclair said, messing with the lock on one of the file cabinets that lined the wall behind her desk, "Take your phone out for me."

I furrowed my brows, "For what?" I asked, slightly curious but also a little defensive.

Dr. Leclair still didn't look at me, pulling the file cabinet open, "Because we're going over location tracking," she calmly explained as she slid the thick stack of papers I signed inside the file.

"Location tracking," I repeated back to her distastefully, watching as she closed the file cabinet and reset the lock attached, "Are you serious?"

Dr. Leclair tilted her head, "Have I indicated that I'm not, Liberty?" she asked, walking over to me.

"No, but tracking my location feels unnecessary," I said, crossing my arms over my chest as I leaned back in her chair.

Dr. Leclair briefly glanced down, acknowledging my crossed arms before glancing back up, "This is me taking care of you, Liberty," she briefly explained, walking over to me, "This is how I ensure your safety."

I narrowed my eyes when she grabbed the top edge of the office chair I sat in, swiveling it around so I faced her fully.

I remained silent even as she towered over me.

She didn't add anything more to her explanation.

She only stood there, waiting for me to take my phone out.

The idea of giving her the control suddenly felt really fucking real, even if it was as something as small as my location.

But I guess I didn't mind having someone worry about my safety—maybe even check in on me throughout the day.

My mother only reaches out when I've done something wrong.

"Good girl," Dr. Leclair calmly said, when I reached for my phone on the desk—bringing it up to my face to unlock it for her.

It was odd.

She could've easily grabbed my phone from the desk herself, but she didn't.

She wanted me to willingly hand it to her.

And even as I did, she made sure to lean down closer to me—holding my phone between us so I could watch what she was doing.

It felt like her way of making me more comfortable, and seeing exactly what she was doing helped.

There wasn't much to it—she just shared my location with her through Find My.

"This won't work," Dr. Leclair suddenly said, noticing my location was also shared with another contact.

Ki Ki.

"Oh that's just Kaia," I explained nonchalantly, but Dr. Leclair still shook her head.

"Sharing your location gives us a lack of privacy, Liberty," she clarified, smoothly handing me my phone back, "You handle this."

I shrugged, immediately tapping my phone to un-share my location with Kaia.

I don't think it even matters if she has it.

"Good girl," she said as I set my phone back down on the desk, her hands now running across my shoulders as she stood behind me.

I let out a deep sigh when she kneaded her fingers into my tense shoulders, making me relax into her touch.

"I knew you would do good for me, Liberty," she murmured, evoking a hum from me when she kneaded my shoulders even more, "I recall you having class on Wednesdays?"

I nodded, "From one to three," I murmured as she continued massaging my shoulders.

"What time is your class on Monday?" she asked me, almost as if she were making a mental note of all this.

"Twelve to two," I didn't hesitate to tell her as she moved her hands toward my inner shoulders, kneading my tense muscles there.

It felt like I was nearly melting into her touch.

"Good to know," Dr. Leclair murmured, caressing her hands up the sides of my neck, "I'll set up a routine check-up for six this evening."

I furrowed my brows, "A check-up?" I asked her almost in confusion, "What for?"

It feels like there's a lot of fucking steps to this.

Why can't she just be normal and go through the motions of all this?

"Just as a precaution," she said, giving my shoulders a gentle squeeze, "I want to make sure everything is in order before we move forward."

I only grew more confused, "So like a physical exam?" I questioned, wondering why I would need that to move forward with her.

Oh, unless she means—

"A gynecological exam," she clarified, making my face unconsciously burn up at her bluntness.

I glanced down to my lap, even if she was standing behind me.

Yes, I did hookups but it was very surface level, nothing along the lines of discussing sexual health or check-ups for that matter.

This feels weirdly intimate.

But I guess if that makes her feel at ease then I'll do it.

"I can go after class," I offered, hoping to convenience her a little more, especially since she'll be in the office all day, "It'll probably be easier," I added as her hands fell away from my shoulders.

"I'll handle it, Liberty," she said, carefully turning the swivel chair I sat in so I faced her again, "I'll set up an appointment with the best office in Seattle."

I nodded, "Yeah, okay," I mumbled awkwardly, glancing up to meet her stare.

This felt like so much more than I signed up for.

Quite literally.

"So you'll be going with me?" I suddenly asked her, furrowing my brows at even the idea of that.

That would be a little weird I think.

"Yes," she said, reaching her hand up to my chin to tilt my head up—

And align my stare with hers.

"Is that uncomfortable to you, Liberty?" she asked me, easily picking up on my hesitation, "Because I should clarify that the things we're going to do—the things I'm going to do to you will involve a lot of positions. I'll see every inch of you."

I felt my face grow even hotter at her blunt words, feeling excited and nervous at the images suddenly appearing in my head.

"That sounds terrifying," I admitted in full honesty, agreeing with one-half of my thoughts.

Hook-ups are less intimate and typically the focus is far from seeing your body and more about chasing the high.

I thought I was signing up for something in relation to a hook-up with her.

But it's becoming increasingly clear that I'm getting much more than I anticipated.

"I'll guide you through it one step at a time, Liberty," she said, her tone softened with reassurance, "There's not a single thing you have to fear or worry about. Trust me on that."

I nodded a few times, letting out a deep breath as I processed her words.

This is all about releasing control and leaving my problems to her—two things I'm clearly not fucking good at.

But I think it'll feel good once I do.

"Okay," I suddenly said, letting out a deep sigh, "So I'll see you at six? And you'll send me the address right?"

Dr. Leclair raised a brow, "I'll pick you up," she corrected me, "Pack an overnight bag."

I nodded, even if her last statement made my brain short-circuit.

I'm spending the night with her?

Okay, I see how this is definitely more than a hook-up dynamic.

I mean, yeah I guess sometimes the women I sleep with stay the night, but it's never planned out.

I've also never stayed at their place when we're done.

"Liberty?" her voice cut into my thoughts.

"Right—yeah, an overnight bag, got it," I said in confirmation even if an annoying smile twitched up on my lips, "Does this mean I can start calling you Monroe now?" I suddenly asked, standing from her office chair.

"Outside of the office," she said, her blue eyes trailing my face for a moment, "But it seems you've already tested my name out a couple of times now:"

I rolled my eyes, "And I'm sure you enjoyed every second of it," I said, raising a brow at her, "I say it better than anyone else could."

"That's awfully cocky of you, Liberty," Monroe murmured as I leaned back against her desk, "But I'd say you moan it better than you say it."

I clenched my jaw, trying to fight the warmth drawing up my body.

She quite literally just snatched the upper hand from me.

"Maybe I could call you by your name inside your office?" I emphasized, running my hands across the cold desk surface behind me, "Perhaps bent over your desk?"

Monroe raised a brow, "That would be crossing a line, one that's already thin, to begin with," she said, taking a step toward me when I gave her a narrowed look, "Trust me, I'll find plenty of other desks to bend you over, Liberty."

I forced a fake frown, "But I want this one," I emphasized, holding her stare entirely.

Monroe's lips twitched up slightly, amused by my words, "We remain professional here," she said, not budging on those specific boundaries, "I'll buy this exact desk for outside of the office."

I sighed dramatically, "Fine," I mumbled, deciding not to go back and forth with her.

Not when it felt like she was at least compromising with me.

"Let me walk you out," Monroe suddenly offered, extending her hand to me.

I didn't hesitate to reach up, placing my hand in hers, "Of course, doc," I purposely murmured as she grabbed my keys and phone from her desk for me.

Her hand was warm around mine as she guided me toward the door.

Until she naturally let go of my hand to open the door, leaving me cold again.

Even as I walked out past her, she didn't grab my hand again—nor initiate contact.

She simply passed my phone and keys to me as we walked down the hallway, verging toward the familiar dim lobby.

Where Sienna and Reagan sat.

"Good morning," I smiled brightly at them both, specifically Sienna whose brows furrowed at my presence.

Especially this early in the morning.

"Good morning, Liberty," Sienna said despite her confusion, flashing me a smile.

"Hopefully your morning is going good," Reagan politely said as her hazel eyes drifted to me, for once not too busy on her computer.

"So good now—I just had a little emergency," I informed them, glancing over to Monroe whose blue eyes were already locked on me, "Thank you for taking the time to help, Dr. Leclair."

Monroe nodded once, "You're welcome," she calmly said, walking past me towards the elevator, which inevitably made me follow behind her.

"Bye girls," I said sweetly, waving to them as Monroe pressed the elevator button for me.

"Bye," they both said back, smiling politely at me as I walked on the elevator.

"Have a good day, Liberty," Monroe said, watching as I clicked the ground level.

"You too," I murmured, my lips twitching up in a knowing smile that her blue eyes noticeably zoned in on.

At least until the shiny doors smoothly closed, leaving me alone on the quiet elevator with excitement coursing through me.

There was also a nervousness to it all, thinking about this evening and the check-up she would be taking me to.

Or even the overnight bag I would be packing.

I pushed the idea of this evening away, deciding to focus on breakfast instead.

Or my second breakfast technically.

Now it feels like a routine to go over to Zion and Sarai's since Zion and I have class right after.

It felt like so much had shifted since I had lunch with them yesterday.

I just couldn't spare a single detail of it.

One topic I knew I should mention was Kaia.

It wouldn't hurt to hear their input—I need to be cautious anyway after what Kaia did last time.

I unconsciously rehearsed ways I would tell Zion and Sarai on the way to their apartment.

Even as I made it to their place and headed past the lobby, I continued to prepare myself for the worst reactions.

I expected them to be mad after all the work they put into helping me.

Maybe lecture me on how it's a bad idea.

Or mention that it's too soon to try being friends again?

Ugh, I just know they're going to be so upset.

"That's it?"

I blinked a few times, glancing between Zion and Sarai, processing their reactions to the news about Kaia and me.

"Yeah...?" I trailed off hesitantly, feeling confused by their lack of a reaction.

"Girl we knew you would eventually make up," Sarai said, smiling as she cut into the large buttery pancake on the plate in front of her.

"It's all good, Libs," Zion assured me, noticing how nervous I was to tell them, "We just wanted to help, but they're your life decisions to make."

I pursed my lips into a smile, "I appreciate that," I murmured, finding their understanding entirely relieving.

I just didn't want to disappoint them I think.

"So catch us up. Did you have a talk with her?" Sarai asked, chewing a few times as she reached for her orange juice.

I nodded as I glanced down, cutting into my pancake, "I did, and I think she really got the picture," I briefly explained, "I even said I wouldn't be her friend if she doesn't change."

Sarai immediately lifted her hand for a high five, making me laugh as I reached my own hand up to smack against hers.

"Look at you—boss girl shit," Sarai said with a smile as our hands fell apart, making my lips twitch up slightly.

"You did good, Libs," Zion said as he took a bite of his bacon, "All you needed was some space really."

I nodded a few times, "Yeah I think so too," I said, poking my fork into the piece of pancake I cut off.

Life officially feels so fucking good.

I got my way, and a little more than I begged for.

What is there to complain about?

I can't wait for this evening—just after the little check-up.

Then everything will be on track.