“I am so sorry, Aiden, the traffic was so bad,” I heaved, taking support of my knees to control my breathing. So much for dressing up in cute dress, applying light makeup and curling my hair in waves just for the session. I wiped down the sweat from forehead and straightened up, daring to peek at him.
Aiden looked like he always did. His face stern and no emotions showing on his face. His eyes travelled down my body and I held in my shiver when they raked over my bare legs.
He made a dramatic point of checking his wristwatch that cost more than the car that I drove and hummed. “We will talk about your tardiness after the session. Sit.”
I quickly sat down and drank some water, the breeze of the air conditioner cooling my skin. The session started, and we made usual talk about my day, what happened that week or if anything exciting happened that I wanted to share with him.
“How did your journaling go?”
We talked more about the days where I would write two-three pages a day or days when I could barely write a paragraph. He listened to me and asked questions when I would stop talking, urging me to drink water and keep going.
“Do you mind if I see what you’ve written?” He asked, his dark eyes soft.
My muscles tensed as I met his obsidian eyes. They ran over my body and noticed how stiff I had become. My eyes lingered on his crisp white shirt, stretching over his shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with a dark-coloured tie. Maybe it was my imagination when I thought his eyes had stayed far too long on my chest and my legs. I shuffled in my seat and tucked the strand of my hair behind my ear.
Aiden’s eyes flickered to my face, and he closed them for a moment, as if he was taking his time. He finally said, “You don’t have to if you don’t want me to read. I will understand and respect your privacy.”
I licked my lips, trusting my instinct. “I-it’s okay, I don’t mind. You can read it.”
I handed him the diary, frowning at the ruffled separate pages that I had shoved between them. He silently read the entry of my first day while I squirmed in my seat. I may or may not have drunk too much water, so I excused myself to the washroom.
When I came back, I could feel the change in the air. Aiden was sitting on the couch, but his posture was stiff. He barely addressed my presence when I sat down in my seat. I saw the diary was placed beside him and his jaw was clenched.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, my voice small.
He finally looked at me and the corner of his lips twitch. Leaning back on the couch, he said, “Yes, I suppose you could say that. I want to ask you something, Petal, and I want you to be honest about it.”
Frowning, I nodded.
His eyes darkened, and he said in a stern voice, “Use your mouth.”
“I—um, yes, Dr. Aiden.”
I didn’t know why I felt the need to address him seriously.
“What were you doing this morning?”
My eyes widened, my heart pounding in my ears. I glanced at the diary and it struck me. Those ruffled pages. Shit, shit, shit. After journaling every day for a week, I wrote my fantasies regarding Aiden, my brother’s best friend, on different torn pages. I always tucked them back in the diary, reminding myself to pull them out before I brought it to the session. But I was in such a hurry that I had completely forgotten about them.
Did he read it? I hope he didn’t. I would rather eat raw broccoli than have him read all those pages.
Looking away from him, I lied and carelessly shrugged my shoulder, “I was meditating.”
I mentally winced at my lie. He had tried coaching me to meditate, but I could never do it.
He is right. I am a terrible liar.
Aiden raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”
I didn’t like the tone of his voice. He seemed serious, and I prayed that the ground would swallow me up. He waited for my answer, crossing his arms over his chest. I got distracted by the way his biceps bulged, the veins on his forearms getting prominent.
He noticed me staring. I glanced down at my lap, twiddling my thumbs. “Y-yes, Dr Aiden, I was meditating and I-I focused on my breath like you taught me—”
“Why are you lying to me, Ivy?”
My head snapped at him. I shook my head, “I-I am not lying.”
Aiden tilted his head and my throat went dry when he said, “Then why did I hear your voice moaning my name when you orgasmed with your fingers inside your pussy?”