KEIRA'S POV
As soon as I let myself into my apartment, I marched into my room and threw myself on my bed. My heart ached, but why? Why did I feel this pang in my chest?
No, this was not the emotion I ought to feel. I was supposed to be enraged and angry. Clint had just turned me down and refused to have sex with me. That is enough to make me mad. I did feel rage when I stormed out of his house, but that heightened anger was nowhere to be found again.
The anger I felt earlier was now replaced with a wistful sadness, a solemn feeling that left my heart empty. What could I do to get rid of this feeling? I kicked my heels off and curled up into a foetal position.
My heart felt like it had been hammered and was now falling apart in tiny pieces. My body still tingled. The places he had touched me were still tingling, and it annoyed me greatly. All my plans of spending a great evening with Clint were now null and void.
What was he so frightened of? Having sexual relations with a client? I did not know Clint's work ethic, but I did not think of it as such a big deal. It was a completely separate business from work.
I hugged myself and tried my best to forget the events of tonight, but they probed my mind. I groaned and pushed myself out of bed. I took off my tight dress and put on a light nightgown.
I trudged to the mirror and walked in front of the sink. I blinked at my reflection in the mirror and grimaced at how I looked. My face was smudged with make-up, make-up I had specifically done just for Clint.
Out of anger, I turned the tap on and began to violently splash water on my face. I wanted the make to go off as soon as possible. After a few minutes, I turned the tap off and looked back at the mirror. The make-up was gone, but the water could not wash away the grim look on my face.
I stared at my reflection absentmindedly and let out a tight sigh. I let my hair down and bit my inner lips as my mind trailed back to Clint. The way our meeting ended did not sit right with me. I wanted to see him again and talk about what happened.
I turned on the tap again and wiped my face one last time. I had made up my mind. I was going to see Clint tomorrow.
I drove to Clint's office with one goal in mind. It was not the best idea I had ever come up with, but it did not matter now. I needed to get to the end of this. Although I was extremely nervous, I had steeled my resolve, so there was no going back on this.
It was four hours early before our session when I sauntered into the building. My heels clacked on the marble floor as I approached the front desk. The receptionist at the front desk confusedly gave me a look, checking over the time on the clock.
Her eyes dropped back to mine. "Good morning, Miss Temple. You are four hours early for your session. I am afraid you are going to have to come back in..."
"Is Mr. Homer in?" I cut her off, getting bored with the words that fell from her mouth.
"Yes, he is seeing a client right now." He was seeing a client? I thought I was the only one he was seeing. "If you must see him urgently, then I suggest you..."
I did not get to hear the rest of her sentence because I was already headed towards his office door. An uncomfortable feeling tugged at my chest after hearing Clint was seeing someone else, but I made sure to shrug it off, giving his door a hard shove to get it to open.
And then, the feeling dissipated when I saw a male client sitting opposite Clint.
The last time I saw Clint's face was in between my legs, giving me a near orgasm while I moaned his name at the top of my lungs. I wanted him again. I wanted us to go all the way without him holding back because I knew he had so much to give that he would not let on. It frustrated me to the core.
He looked surprised to see me now, same with the other man in the room, as his eyes flickered between the both of us.
"Can I have a word with you?" I asked Clint when the awkwardness in the room got thicker. "In private."
"Can you not see we are in the middle of a session?" the other man grunted, annoyance laced in his tone.
My eyes still held Clint's gaze, and I could see he was debating whether to ask me to leave or not. He could not bring himself to dismiss me. He was curious as to what I had to tell him.
Closing the man's file in his hands, Clint threw him a brief smile. "I am sorry about the inconvenience, Mr. Sparks. Can you excuse us for one minute?"
Enraged, the man got up on his feet, glaring daggers at Clint. "Forget it. Your service is bullshit."
He brushed past me on his way out, intentionally bumping his shoulders into mine. Clint's calm facade morphed into a grim one when we were alone as I shut the door. Something told me he was not very happy with me barging in that way.
"Whatever you say has to be very important, Keira," his voice was low and even. "I just lost a client because of you."
"And you are about to lose more than that because I am on the verge of suing you to court."
The frown lines on his forehead creased the more. "What the devil are you talking about?"
"You violated the rules of being a therapist," I began to list out. "Touched me countless times. You are supposed to make me feel better as my therapist, then why do I get frustrated every fucking time I see you?"
He slammed the file in his hands on the table and stood up to lock his door with a key. Smart move. I did not want anyone walking in on us, especially not during a discussion like this.
"I have tried all I could to help you since the first day you walked into my office. Is it my fault we hooked up a few days before you became my client? No." Clint ran a hand over his face, getting just as frustrated as I was. "There is a very thin line between being a client and my sexual partner. It gets so freaking hard to keep that boundary every time I see you."
"Then do not. Screw this. Screw everything."
Clint shook his head as he paced the room, my eyes following him back and forth. "Not when you just came in with such a threat. I have too much stuff going on, too much to handle, and I simply cannot add you to my list of numerous problems."
I did not miss the crack in his voice in the last part. I had never seen him this way. He was always on the other side of the room listening to my sob stories, seeming all calm and collected like he had no problems in the world.
But I forgot therapists were real people with real problems, just like everyone else. I would never know what it was like trying to heal people while no one bothered to ask how they fared.
"If you claim I am not helping you get better with your problems, then I do not think there is anything else I can do," Clint was saying. He had stopped pacing now. "I will have to refer you to another therapist."
I could only stand and stare as he tore out a form from the papers on his desk, hurriedly filling it up. "To be honest, you are never going to get better if I keep being your therapist. You need someone who does not make you act on your impulses."
"You promised me you were going to make me better," I finally forced out, and he looked up from the form he filled. "You were the only person I had told my problems, and you promised me it would get better."
"Promises are meant to be broken sometimes. That is what life teaches you as you get older." Clint stretched out the form to me, and I took it, ignoring my heart that pumped hard in my chest.
"So this is it then? You are just going to make me someone else's problem."
I turned around and left his office when he did not say anything in response. When I got outside, I squeezed up the paper and dumped it in a bin.
