When I fell in love with my psychiatrist

Chapter Ten

It was Monday. I was in Will's office waiting patiently for him to start his "line of questioning". I sighed and looked out of the window so as not to focus on the man in front of me. I feared I was losing my mind so I was almost thankful when he spoke up. Almost.

"So..how has you week been?" Will asked very professionally looking at me through the glasses he only wore when reading in his office.

He had a blank look on his face. His mouth was set into a thin straight line and those usually (sometimes, not all the times) smiling lips were down set. I sighed, looked at the ceiling before staring at him again.

He was sitting on the far end of the couch in his office. He always used this couch when assessing his patients. Apparently, according to him, it was so his deep eyes could easily probe into their souls while at the same time making it seem like he actually "cared". His words not mine.

I hated this. I hated it. I hated the fact that I was back to being "one of his patients".

Why, you might ask?

First of all, I did not want to be observed and analysed critically like some unfortunate specimen under a microscope thank you very much.

Also, after this week and all what had happened, I thought we were more than this. I thought we had gotten over this patient- doctor blah blah.

Plus, sitting there, while he was analysing me, I was also able to without the block of his table, see other parts of him. Namely, his well ironed dress pant clad legs, his stupid expensive shoes and his white shirt which hugged his muscular body in ways that made my imagination run very wild.

The man was literally walking temptation.

Prince Will was hot in whatever he wore.

William Price was a f*****g fine specimen of a man.

Those beautiful muscular fingers in his large hands...oh the things I would let those fingers do to me... his fingers of one hand were clutching a ballpen lightly while his other hand held a notebook that he usually jotted in during our sessions.

He was gently tapping the pen unto the paper with his legs crossed while patiently awaiting my response.

Was this guy serious? I literally spent almost all of my past week with him and he just asked me how my week was?

Damned if I was going to give to him.

That was the first question he always asked me when I came in but damn it! We were f*****g living together now. We had f*****g shared a lot these past days. I had revealed a part of me that was vulnerable. And he stood there and asked me how my week had gone. Wow.

Could he just skip the formalities now and fix me of whatever it was I was mentally sick of? Since it was obvious he was already getting sick of me. Or maybe I was just crazy. Crazy does have a cure right? Right? Oh damn it! I was stuck here forever. There was no cure for my kind of crazy.

Anyway, little Mr Professional was awaiting a response while I was pondering on how to answer him in a way that would convey both my anger and need for him at this particular moment.

Why did he have to be hot damn it!

A few minutes passed, the tapping became incessant, i was still quiet but my anger levels kept spiking by the minute.

"Stop," I said quietly, not wanting to raise my voice. My head was bowed. I didn't want to look at him.

But the tapping didn't stop. It continued.

"Stop," I repeated, a little louder this time around and I was still not heeded.

"Would you just f*****g stop doing that?" I screamed out, finally snapping and he paused, assessing me slowly. He uncrossed his legs and sighed.

"Fine. I've stopped. You know we could keep doing this forever. I ask you a question and you pretend not to hear. It's fine by me really. It's *you* with the problem" he stated, still with that neutral look on his face pointing at me with the notebook when he said 'you'.

Ugh...

"I honestly don't understand the need for all this seeing as we live together now. I was literally with you almost all of this week. You know how my week was." i stated trying to maintain my cool like he was doing.

He simply c****d a brow.

He c****d a brow at me like I was a f*****g child. Somebody grab my heels. Somebody f*****g hold my earrings. He will get what's coming for him.

Fuming in silence, i reigned in my anger and petulently stared him in the eyes. I could have sworn i saw him smile slightly at my anger.

"What happens out of this office between you and I..." he paused, visibly contemplating how to finish his statement.

"...has nothing to do with what happens in this office. I don't think you realise this, it is hard enough as is, but you are my patient and I am your doctor. Our relationship is strictly professional..."

Ouch. And here I was thinking there was something else. I could feel my mood fall and slight tears pricked my eyes which I managed to reign in just in time before he noticed them and pitied me or something. Urgh. Pity.

"...Plus...even if you say I know how your week was, that is only partially correct. Though it might be true that I have encountered you quite alot this week.."

Ouch again. He said it like 'encountering' me was a chore or something. Will was on a roll today. 'Go on right ahead. Hack the rest of my heart out. After all you've already started.' I felt like saying.

"....what I've encountered is only what is on the surface. Haven't you learnt by now love? When I ask you how your week has been, what I'm asking is everything that happened, how you reacted and felt with everything going and what's been going on in your head. That is what I am here for. I want to know how everything has affected you."

Oh!. So that's what he meant....I suddenly felt like such a whiny dumbass. Even though the We're just doctor and patient part really hurt me, it wasn't as bad as I initially thought it was.

"Fine." I admittedly begrudgingly.

"So are we really to talk?" he asked me staring at me deeply like he was looking for something in my soul. I squirmed in my seat.

"Yes."

"So...how has your week been?" he asked, set the notebook on the patch of couch beside his thigh and crossed his arms.

His shirt strained against his muscles, his Rolex glittered snugly on his wrist and his abs beckoned to me from beneath his shirt.

And his lower body wasn't helping my case either. I couldn't help but stray my eyes to his bulge. I couldn't help it. You can't blame me! It's not me. It's the bulge, looking so big and attractive.

My throat went dry.

I squeezed my thighs together to release the obvious tension in my nether regions. Just great. The one day i decided to wear a body hugging thigh length gown was the one day Will just had to be impossible attractive. Gods help me. Wait...scatch that. He was always impossibly attractive. I am doomed.

He was asking me to talk but the onky words that were fighting to get out of my mouth were 'take me. Take me please however you seem fit."

I eyed his table. It would do. Or that couch. Or the wall behind him. Or the floor. Anywhere. Really. I wouldn't mind.

God dammit. My hormones were running wild today. Or maybe I was deflecting. I didn't care. This was torture.

I cleared my throat once.

Twice.

Three times.

"Need some water for that cough?" he asked innocently. b***h. Like he didn't know how he was affecting me.

'No...only you' I wanted to say but didn't.

"Yes thank you" I said hoarsely instead.

This was not going well. Not at all.

He stood up...ever the polite gentleman. My eyes traveled to his trousers and I squeezed my thighs more tightly. He went to pour me some water but not before his eyes darted momentarily to my thighs and he visibly swallowed.

He poured two glasses of water instead.

This was going to be one long ass session.