HANNAH Page 9

  But she wasn’t here, and I couldn’t kick her, and I sure as hell couldn’t let Wes go to Shenzhen to kill her.

  Wes. He continued to surprise me. First the fact that he’d read Fiona’s book, then the fact that he had a background in foreign relations with China. I’d underestimated him, which made me sort of an asshole.

  He’d also been there for me during the panic attack, when I woke up from my nightmares, and when I’d had to face my doctor. He kept showing up, and he kept making me feel like I was worth showing up for.

  Wes was so not going to Shenzhen.

  He came out of the bathroom then, a towel wrapped around his waist, and I sucked in a breath. We hadn’t talked about any bedroom issues for a while, but Dr. Kim had cleared him for sexual intercourse today. “Just don’t get too crazy,” the doctor had joked.

  My cheeks burned as Wes stalked through the room, obviously still pissed about sweating so much from his walk. “I think I’m ready for bed—I’m tired from my walk.”

  He said “walk” as though it were something disgusting he’d found on the bottom of his shoe.

  “You can’t be so hard on yourself—it’ll just make the whole process feel like it’s taking longer. You’re doing great. Even Dr. Kim thinks so.”

  He rolled his eyes and let the towel drop to the floor as he grabbed some boxer briefs from his drawer.

  I sucked in another breath as I inspected him…every inch of him. Had he gotten bigger? Or had it just been a really long time?

  “Babe?”

  I jerked my gaze away from his naked parts. “Yeah?”

  He grinned. “Are you staring at my dick?”

  I tried not to notice it was growing. “N-no.”

  He pulled his underwear up. “I’ll just put it away, then.”

  “You don’t have to.” I licked my lips and tried to gather my courage. “Dr. Kim said you were okay to…you know.”

  Wes pulled a T-shirt over his head, then smiled at me. “That doesn’t mean we have to do it tonight.”

  I felt crestfallen and relieved all at the same time. “Don’t you want to?”

  He laughed, then shrugged. “Of course I want to. But I want the time to be right, for both of us.”

  But the time was right for him—finally. I was fine. I could do this.

  I went and tentatively wrapped my arms around him, relishing the feel of his muscles against me. He might not be back to where he was before the injury, but it felt like he was regaining strength fast.

  I sighed in relief.

  “What?” His question came out muffled against my hair.

  “You feel like you’re getting stronger, back to your old self. I’m just so relieved.”

  He held me tighter. “Shh, I got you.”

  My body throbbed for his. It had been so long. “I want you to make love to me.” I reached up to kiss him.

  His tongue sought mine, and I moaned against him. He ran his hands down my back, pulling me closer, and my body molded against his.

  My body continued to respond, but I couldn’t fully focus. My thoughts kept crowding me. I want him. I want to do this.

  Ugh, I willed my brain, then shut up!

  Wes deepened the kiss, and I wrapped my hands around his hips, getting as close to him as possible. I tried to lose myself in his embrace, but I wondered what he was thinking right now, if I felt the same to him as I always had…

  His hands roamed through my hair, and I stiffened. I want him. I want to do this. I can do this… He kissed me again, but I felt like I was two seconds behind, trying to catch up and not connecting to the moment.

  He pulled back. “Are you okay?”

  I shook my head, trying to clear it. “What do you mean?”

  “You seemed like you checked out a little.”

  “I think I just got distracted.”

  He brushed the hair back from my face. “Let’s just go to bed, okay? I’m beat.”

  I stepped back, stung. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood. Can’t we just forget about it—”

  “Hey.” He reached out and grabbed my hand. “We are in no rush. C’mon, we’re both tired. It’s been a long day.”

  “I’ll just be a minute.” My voice came out small.

  I retreated to the bathroom with my pajamas. I changed and started brushing my teeth, staring at myself in the mirror. There were dark circles under my eyes. My complexion looked dull. I barely resembled my normal, perky self.

  I was tired. I was tired of this shit.

  I roughly pulled my pajama top on and headed to bed. I climbed in and faced away from Wes.

  He sat up a little and sighed. “You’re mad at me? I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.”

  “You weren’t a jerk.”

  He was quiet for a minute. “I just don’t want to rush you.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of deciding what I’m ready for, thank you very much.” I sounded meaner than I felt.

  He sighed again and lay back down. “I know that. But you hesitated.”

  “So?”

  “So there was no way in hell I was going to keep going if you were just going through the motions—or worse, you were doing it for me.”

  “I wasn’t going through the motions—like I said, I got distracted for a second.” I swallowed hard. “And I wasn’t doing it just for you. I miss having sex, too, you know.”

  Wes sighed again. “That doesn’t mean we have to rush it.”

  “It doesn’t mean we have to wait until it’s perfect either.” Part of me just wanted to get it over with.

  “Of course not.” He rolled over and put his arms around me.

  I relaxed against his warmth, even as different emotions jostled inside me.

  He was quiet for so long, I’d thought he’d fallen asleep, but then he said, “What distracted you?”

  “I couldn’t stop…thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “Just thinking. That I wanted to do it, that the way we were kissing felt good.”

  “You had to convince yourself?” Even though it was a loaded question, Wes only sounded genuinely curious.

  “It wasn’t that. It was more like I was waiting for myself to freak out, and I was trying to head it off.”

  He played with my hair. “Why were you worried you were going to freak out?”

  I sighed. “I had a panic attack last night, remember? I’m not exactly in control of my emotions right now.”

  Wesley dropped the lock of hair he’d been twisting. He sat up. “But what does that have to do with us being intimate?”

  “I don’t know! It’s emotional, I guess. I was worried I’d react weird.” My half-truths were confusing me as much as him.

  Wes sighed. “I want you to know that I’m not judging you—I hope I don’t sound defensive, because that’s not what this is about.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself. “I know that. Listen, let’s talk about this another time, because tomorrow’s another hellish day. We have to meet with Lauren at Paragon about this newest round of hacking.”

  “And I made us an appointment with the couples’ therapist Dr. Fisher recommended. It’s for first thing tomorrow morning.”

  I’d thought Wes agreed with me about seeing the therapist—and didn’t want to go. “What? Why’d you do that?”

  “Because we’ve both been through a lot.” He patted my back kindly, but in a way that also made it clear he wouldn’t budge an inch.

  “I don’t need to see a therapist, and I don’t have time.”

  “Do it for me, then. Just come with me to the first appointment.”

  I cursed inwardly, wishing we’d just had stupid sex and gotten it over with. I’d be fine once we did, I knew it.

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Fine,” he said back.

  But I wondered if we really were. Fine, I meant.

  Chapter 14

  Wes

  Hannah didn’t say a word on the way to the therapist’s office in Cupertino. She t
wisted the hem of her dress nervously and bounced her knee.

  “You don’t need to fidget.” I put my hand over hers. “This is going to be low-key.”

  “Really? Have you ever been before?”

  She didn’t mention that we were going to see a psychotherapist—Brian and the driver were close enough to hear.

  “No,” I admitted. “Have you?”

  She sighed. “I went after my parents died, just for a few months.”

  “Did it help?”

  “It was intense.”

  “We can handle intense.” But I was dreading the appointment, too. As a former marine who’d had several active tours of duty, I had a pretty extensive list of shit I never wanted to think about.

  I hoped we wouldn’t have to go there.

  I was doing this for Hannah. I’d promised Lauren, and even though I had mixed feelings about my conversation with her, a promise was a promise. As such, I couldn’t really whine about seeing a highly recommended, five-hundred-dollar-per-hour doctor.

  Dr. Katherine McGovern was probably going to stick us on a modern, uncomfortable couch in a room filled with potted plants and ask us about our feelings. If I could survive a gunshot wound, a head injury, and a medically induced coma, I could probably deal with an hour of therapy.

  I hoped.

  Hannah laced her fingers through mine as I opened the car door. “I’m pretty sure I’m mad at you about this,” she said.

  “Okay. But we’re still going.”

  She groaned as I pulled her into the lobby, Brian following close behind. It felt weird having a security guard, but at the same time, it helped me relax—a little.

  If anyone wanted Hannah, they would have to go through me and Brian first.

  I greeted the receptionist, a young woman with a pierced nose and purple hair. “Wesley Eden and Hannah Taylor, for Dr. McGovern.”

  She smiled warmly from behind the desk. “Dr. Kathy will be out in just a minute.”

  “Dr. Kathy,” aka Katherine McGovern, MD, graduate of Yale School of Medicine, came out a few moments later. She was short, with corkscrew-curly hair, lavender-framed cat-eye glasses, a rumpled denim dress, and clogs. She looked more like a kindergarten teacher than a physician. She smiled, motioning for us to follow her.

  Kathy ushered us into her office, and I peered around—instead of a modern couch with clean lines, there was a slightly dilapidated love seat and two overstuffed chairs. There were some plants, but the room was dominated by an overflow of books, piled on every available space.

  “Would you like some water? Tea?” Kathy asked, so kindly that I worried she might ask to hug us.

  “No, thank you.” Hannah smiled politely.

  “Thanks for fitting us in this morning,” I said. “Dr. Fisher highly recommended you.”

  “Lourdes and I went to medical school together,” Kathy said. She sat back in her chair. “Now, why don’t you two tell me why you’re here?”

  “Wesley was injured, and he’s having a hard time with rehab. He doesn’t like taking it slow,” Hannah tattled.

  I grimaced. “Hannah was kidnapped, and she had a panic attack two nights ago. We had to call the paramedics.”

  Hannah gave me a dirty look, then immediately composed her features.

  I did the same thing right back at her.

  “How long have you two been a couple?” Kathy asked, unruffled.

  I shrugged. “Six months, give or take the month I was in the hospital.”

  “Are you married?” the doctor asked.

  “No,” Hannah said. “We live together—right now we’re staying at my sister’s house for security reasons. It’s a long story.”

  Kathy nodded. “Tell me the five-minute version so we can focus on what’s really going on here.”

  Hannah and I took turns explaining about Li Na Zhao, Paragon, and what happened when I was shot and Hannah was taken prisoner.

  “So…you two are only living together out of convenience, for safety purposes?” Dr. Kathy asked.

  “No,” Hannah said.

  “Yes,” I said at the same time.

  Hannah looked at me sharply. “That’s the only reason?”

  I could feel my face redden as both she and the doctor watched me. “Uh…”

  “What will you do when the safety threat passes?” the doctor asked.

  “I’m buying a new house.” I smoothed my pants, which were already smooth. “I sort of just gave my brother my old one.”

  I was going to ask Hannah to move in with me, but her sister made me feel like a moron?

  “Let’s change direction for a moment,” Kathy said, letting me off the hook. “I want to talk more about what happened. Where were you held when these men had you?” Kathy asked Hannah.

  “We were in Oakland, only I didn’t know that until afterward. They never let me outside.”

  “What other sort of rules did they have for you?”

  Hannah looked taken aback that the doctor was talking about this so soon. “Uh, nothing, really.”

  Kathy waited, watching her.

  “They just kept me in a room. They didn’t feed me much or talk to me. They let me watch television, though, which was good. I think I would’ve gone crazy without General Hospital.”

  Hannah smiled at the doctor, but the doctor didn’t smile back.

  “What else did they let you do?” she asked.

  “I got to Skype my sister a few times. And they let me have vodka once or twice.” Her face reddened slightly.

  “Hold that thought.” Kathy turned to me. “Wesley? What about you? What have you been struggling with?”

  “It’s been hard not being able to work,” I admitted. “And I didn’t like feeling like I couldn’t take care of myself.”

  “That’s hard for you?”

  I shrugged. “My parents are both dead. I’m a marine. I’m sort of used to being a lone wolf. But Hannah’s been wonderful. She never makes me feel bad or that I’m bothering her when I need something.”

  “Why would she?” Kathy asked. “You did get shot trying to protect her, after all. She’d be a total bitch if she made you pay for your injuries emotionally, too, don’t you think?”

  I coughed. “I guess so.” It appeared that Kathy, with her clogs and her offers of tea, didn’t mince words.

  “But I wouldn’t do that, and Wes wouldn’t be with someone who treated him like that, so it’s sort of beside the point,” Hannah said.

  Kathy smiled at her. “Agreed. But Wesley was praising you for this, and I wanted him to see what he was really doing.”

  I looked at her, confused. “Um, I’m sorry—what was I really doing?”

  The doctor rested her face on her hands. “You were belittling yourself for being a burden.”

  “I was?”

  Hannah reached over and squeezed my hand.

  “So, how are things going in the bedroom?” Kathy asked.

  I was glad I’d said no to tea—I would’ve spit it out.

  “Nothing like just cutting to the chase, huh?” I asked.

  “Couples don’t come to me unless they need help. I can usually get a pretty good sense of what sort of help they need, based on what’s going on with them in the bedroom. So,” she said, smiling again, “what’s going on with you two in bed?”

  Hannah cleared her throat. “Wes just got approved by his doctor to have sex, but we haven’t yet.”

  “Why not?” Kathy didn’t blink.

  “We started to fool around last night, but we stopped.”

  “I was worried she wasn’t ready, because she’d just had a panic attack the night before.” I shrugged. “I didn’t want to rush it.”

  “You said you started fooling around—what happened? What made you stop, specifically?” Kathy asked.

  “I thought Hannah seemed distracted, so I wanted to wait,” I said. I could feel my face burning—I’d never talked to someone I didn’t know about my sex life before.

  Kathy looked to Han
nah. “And what did you want?”

  In response, Hannah scowled.

  “Hannah?” Kathy sat back. “I’d like to remind you that honesty is your best shot in here. We gain nothing by wasting each other’s time with platitudes. If you waste my time, you’re wasting your time and Wes’s. And you won’t get better, and neither will your relationship.”

  Hannah shot me an I-told-you-therapy-was-going-to suck look.

  “So?” Kathy asked. “What did you want last night when you and Wesley were finally fooling around?”

  Hannah composed her face. “I wanted to have sex with Wes. But I was thinking too much, and I got distracted by that, and then…then the whole thing sort of got away from me.”

  “And Wesley noticed.” Kathy looked at me approvingly.

  “Yes, Wesley noticed,” Hannah said.

  “How did you feel when he noticed?” the doctor asked.

  Hannah pursed her lips. “Annoyed.”

  I looked at her sharply, but I didn’t say anything.

  The doctor didn’t look at all surprised. “Why annoyed?”

  “Because I just wanted to get it over with. I figured, once we’d done it—had sex, I mean—I wouldn’t have to worry anymore. Worry that Wes might have a heart attack, worry about feeling strange…”

  Kathy leaned forward. “Why would you feel strange?”

  Hannah shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s been a while.”

  “Have you ever been sexually abused or traumatized, Hannah?”

  “No.” Hannah’s face flushed.

  “Those guards didn’t do anything to you while they had you locked up in that condo?”

  “No.”

  Kathy sighed. “Frankly, I find that hard to believe. I know Dr. Fisher examined you, and I know there were no signs of rape or sexual trauma. That being said, I have some concerns.”

  Hannah smiled at Kathy, but it was not her nice smile. “Now you sound like my sister. And Wesley, for that matter.”

  “Your sister and your boyfriend are concerned about you for a reason, Hannah. So is Dr. Fisher. In my experience, that sort of concern usually has a source.” She paused and tilted her chin, her focus directly on Hannah. “Would you like to see me privately? We don’t have to talk about this today.”

  I reached out and patted her knee. “Or I can leave, if you want to be alone.”