Page 12 of Fixation

“I made you soup.” I’m a live wire, need and lust pulsing inside me. As gently as possible, I place the bowl down on the treatment cart. Her gaze is glued to me, watching me bend to elevate the head of the bed. “A broth, with real bone marrow. Real chicken.”

“I told you I won’t eat it.”

I pick up the bowl, raise the spoon to my mouth, and blow.

Her arousal is ever evident in her second gasp. No coughing. I fixed that for her.

Then she catches herself ogling me. “Dammit.”

Over the years, a couple of patients have asked me out on a date. Some of them blushed. One wanted to give me her granddaughter’s number.

The answer has always been no, no, no, and no. My expression remained in a perpetual, statue-like state. No emotion has creaked through my impenetrable mask.

It’s been easy so far. A walk in the park.

I haven’t felt anything for any of them.

Hiding my true self from Harper is a hard feat. Matter of fact, nothing’s ever been more challenging than this. Holding back my desires. Maintaining professionalism around her.

Nothing.

A twenty-eight-hour shift would’ve been a walk in the park compared to this.

“Here.” I bring the spoon close to her chapped lips.

Harper licks them. Curses. Stares at the spoon as if I laced her soup with poison.

She has every right to think that.

She’s still eating it.

I’m her only source of nourishment for the next few days.

“I’m not going to kill you. I didn’t lie to you earlier.” My brow furrows at her snarl. Why would I lie to her? She’s already here. Already mine. “I’ll prove it to you if you take a bite.”

“You put something in there.” Her chin dimples. She squints at me, her glossy, green eyes accusing. “I—Please, don’t sedate me. I need to stay up. I need you to tell me what you did to me while I was sleeping. You have to tell me.” She bites her bottom lip. “Did you touch me? Like…that?”

I’ve listened to her. Heard her out. It’s her turn to give me something in return instead of demanding more answers.

Harper doesn’t get to close to her mouth after she says me . The spoon is already between her lips.

I tip it up.

The moment I take the spoon out and put it in the bowl, I slam a hand over her mouth and pinch her nose.

“Chew.”

Her choice is between obeying me and choking on the food.

She chooses right.

She chews.

And I release her.

Her nostrils flare with fury.

“Good girl.” I nod.

What I really want to do is shove my cock in her mouth. Feel those lips all over me.

I want to watch them move when she talks to me. When she tells me about herself. Every goddamn detail. The secrets she hasn’t shared with anyone.

Until then, I settle on ordering her to, “Swallow.”

My good girl glares at me while her throat works.

“Ahhh.” Opening wide, she shows me her tongue.

“Perfect.”

“Motherfucker.” She pushes herself back into the bed, away from me.

It’s her attraction to me that she’s trying to escape.

Poor Harper. Denying herself what she craves so deeply has to hurt.

I wonder if I put a hand between her thighs…

If I called her good girl one more time…

If I promised her she won’t have to work as hard anymore because I’ve got her…

Would she let me have her then?

“One more.” I prepare another spoon for her.

“I could scream. I am going to scream.” She does just that to show me how serious she is.

She flinches as soon as the jagged sound leaves her raw throat.

Her screams are ones of agony. Tears brim in her eyes.

Her throat must feel like knives.

“Shh.” I’m all concern. All empathy. My bedside manners have never been better. I return the spoon to the bowl and press a thumb to her parted lips. Slide my palm around her strained throat. “It won’t do you any good. The basement is soundproof.”

Her chest rises and falls. “Mine isn’t.”

Ah, clever girl. She figured out our homes are identical. That we probably live on the same block. I wonder if she gets just how close we’ve been to each other for the past two months.

“Mine is. I had the windows barricaded before I moved in here. The door is thick. Someone would really have to lean into it to hear anything that goes on down here.”

Her pupils are blown, flush deepening as her jaw works.

A hidden side of her likes this. Being bound. Powerless. Having someone else take care of her for a change.

My possessiveness responds to her like a moth to a flame.

Before I brought her here, I wanted her. Studied her. Learned new things about her.

I’ve been falling for her.

It’s in the way she always tucks her hair behind her ear. The broad smile that appears when she finishes one of her custom orders.

Her impatient pacing when she hurls another one of her sketches into the trash. I want her.

But now, this…how she needs me, I’m not falling .

I’ve been hurled into the center of the earth.

I could be that person for her. The one who gives more than he takes.

The man she’ll always run to instead of from.

She’ll agree with me soon.

“Enough with the screaming, then,” I add, picking the spoon back up. “You should eat.”