Bare and Burning

Shocking Kiss

Callum took a step back. The intense fire in his eyes burned bright for one agonizing second before he turned on his heel. Grabbing his jacket from the sofa, he walked out of the room. The heavy wooden door clicked shut behind him, sealing the silence inside.

Quiet rushed back into the office, thick and suffocating. Cyrene leaned her weight against the edge of her oak desk, letting her weak legs find some sort of anchor. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. Placing a trembling hand over her chest, she tried to force her breathing to slow down. She needed to remember her training and honor her professional vows.

Closing her eyes, the therapist attempted to take a deep grounding breath. Control was still within her grasp. This was just a minor hurdle, a simple mistake they could fix in their next session by reinforcing the rules.

Before air could even fill her lungs, the office door swung open.

Cyrene snapped her eyes open. Callum was back. Throwing his jacket onto the floor, the composed man vanished. In his place stood someone starved and desperate. He walked straight toward her with predatory speed, offering no chance for her to speak or raise her hands in defense.

He grabbed her face and crashed his lips down onto hers.

The kiss was a brutal collision, hungry and raw. He devoured her mouth like a dying man finding water in the desert. His large hands held her jaw tight while his tongue demanded entry. He tasted like mint and raw male aggression. The sheer force of his need wiped her mind blank.

Frozen in shock, Cyrene kept her eyes wide open for a brief second before they fluttered shut. Her arms hung limp at her sides. The textbooks and ethics rules dissolved into thin air. All that registered was the burning heat of his mouth and the intoxicating smell of cedar surrounding her. She didn't kiss him back. The raw intensity of his actions left her paralyzed.

Callum groaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. He was impatient, needing more of her. Letting go of her face, his hands moved down her body. One hand gripped her waist, pulling her flush against his hard frame so she could feel every solid inch of him. His other hand slid up her ribcage until his large warm palm closed over her breast. His thumb brushed over her sensitive peak through the thin fabric of her silk blouse.

The bold intimate touch sent a sharp jolt of electricity straight to her brain.

That touch snapped her out of her trance.

Reality came crashing back down. The medical ethics board. Her practice license. The danger of getting involved with a broken man.

Shoving both of her hands hard against his solid chest, Cyrene broke the kiss and pushed him away with all the strength she possessed.

"Callum no," she gasped, stumbling back a step. She wiped the back of her hand across her bruised lips. "Stop right now."

Taking half a step back, Callum let his chest heave as he dragged in oxygen. His dark hair was a mess. His dark eyes were blown wide with heat and raw desire. He looked down at his own hands, then back up to her flushed face, looking like a man waking up from a fever dream.

"I can't stop," he admitted in a harsh raspy whisper. "I have been numb for two years. You just woke me up."

"You are my client," Cyrene said, forcing herself to stand tall despite her shaking voice. "What you just did violates every professional boundary I have. It's wrong."

"I don't care about boundaries," he countered. Taking a slow deliberate step toward her, the raw hunger still blazed in his eyes. "You felt it too Cyrene. Don't lie to me. When I touched you, your heart was beating just as fast as mine."

"My physical reaction doesn't matter," she argued. She crossed her arms over her chest to shield herself, but the phantom heat of his hand still burned her skin. "I am your therapist. You are paying me to help you navigate your emotional trauma. You are projecting your need for intimacy onto me because I am the only safe space you right now. It's a classic trauma response."

"That's clinical garbage," Callum fired back, running a frustrated hand through his dark hair. "I know the difference between a safe space and a spark. That was a spark. That was pure fire."

"It was a mistake," she corrected him, forcing her voice to sound colder than she felt. "And it can't happen again. Ever."

Callum stared at her. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension. He was a man used to getting what he wanted, while Cyrene was a woman used to enforcing strict rules. They were locked in a dangerous physical and mental stalemate.

"You can hide behind your desk," Callum said, his tone lethal and calm now, sending a shiver down her spine. "You can quote your textbooks and talk about ethics. But you can't hide from the fact that you want me just as much as I want you."

Leaning down, he picked his jacket up off the floor. He didn't bother putting it back on. Holding it in his hand, he looked at her one last time. His gaze dropped to her bruised lips before rising to meet her eyes.

"I will see you on Tuesday Cyrene," he said softly.

He turned and walked out of the office, letting the heavy wooden door click shut for the second time.

Alone again, Cyrene leaned back against her desk and took a deep trembling breath. But it didn't help. Her chest still felt tight. The air still smelled like his cologne. Her lips still tasted like his mouth. And deep inside her soul, a terrifying part of her knew he was right.