A tear slipped down my cheek.

I hugged the magazines and journals.

“Bird, why are you crying?”

“I’m just … happy,” I whispered. “So happy.”

He hugged me tight. I pressed my face into his chest and let another tear fall. Did he know what these magazines meant to me? They were Matt’s permission to think about our wedding—to plan and anticipate it. Sweet joy spread through me.

My phone chimed and I plucked it out of my purse.

I stayed in Matt’s arms as I read the text.

It was from Chrissy.

R we getting together this weekend or what?

Shit. I’d forgotten about my plans to check up on Chrissy this weekend. I glanced at Matt, who watched me patiently, and tapped out a quick reply.

Stuff came up, so sorry. Let’s get together Friday night.

I hesitated, and then I added:

& I’m bringing my fiancé.

Chapter 14

MATT

PUNISHMENT

She lied to me—withheld information from me—and I punished her for it. I spanked her. I used her. I denied her orgasm.

I’ve wanted this for a while, and now that I’ve had it, I want more.

When she’s bad, I want to tell her so. I want to take out my anger on her gorgeous body. She doesn’t understand how it provokes me, the sight of her.

I am constantly aching.

Mike’s lips thinned into a line as he read my notebook.

Matt’s Black Book of Aberrant Desires, I’d written inside the cover. Mike didn’t crack a smile at that. I cleared my throat and he glanced at me.

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” I said. I wished I hadn’t let him see the book. By the same turn, it felt good to share those strange desires with someone.

He flipped a page and continued reading. “Your trip was good?”

“Yeah. Uneventful…”

Again, Mike glanced at me.

“How did you cut your face?”

“Hm?” My hand rose halfway to the wound. The fountain. Seth. “I fell.”

He watched me a moment too long and frowned.

“All right. You fell. Maybe you can tell me more about that sometime. For now, let’s talk about this.” He gestured with the notebook. “Desires for control, ownership—physical and emotional possession, I think—and a shame fetish.”

“Don’t fucking put it that way.” I stuck an unlit smoke between my lips.

“Erotic humiliation,” Mike said.

“Whatever.” I glared at the floor. “Fine.”

“No need to get defensive. I’m not horrified, Matthew. Just a discussion. Looking at this”—he handed the notebook back to me—“my immediate question is, how would you feel in Hannah’s position? Would you be comfortable if she felt this proprietary about your body? Would you allow her to humiliate, dominate, and punish you? To expose you to others?”

I smiled slyly at Mike.

“She has tied me to the bed,” I murmured. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mike. My eyes swept the family photo on his desk. I couldn’t picture Mrs. Mike getting that freaky.

“I’m aware. I read Night Owl.”

“The fuck?” I gaped.

“I read everything you publish. You’re my client. It’s part of my job. You know this, Matthew. Holistic mental health.”

I rubbed my face. Good God.

“Look, to answer your question…” My mind traveled back to Hannah. Last week, she’d put her finger in my backside, then made me confess to liking it. And before our brief breakup, she’d asked me to jerk off for her viewing pleasure. On my knees. On the floor. “She, ah … she sometimes … has the upper hand, yeah. I don’t mind.”

“You enjoy it?”

I shrugged.

“Well.” Mike tapped his desk, soliciting my attention. “It’s one thing to have these desires, and to explore sexuality with your partner, and quite another thing to punish her in bed for problems within your relationship. Can you see that?”

“Nope.” I twisted the lighter in my pocket.

“I think we’ll end this appointment early then.”

“Huh?” I glanced at the clock, which said we had twenty minutes to go.

“You’re closed off, embarrassed, defensive. We’re getting nowhere. Spend a week remembering that I am on your side, trying to help you. Get comfortable with the idea that I know about all that”—he pointed to my notebook—“and come back on Monday ready to talk.”

“Fine.” I pushed out of the armchair. Getting dismissed by my own shrink kind of sucked, but I wasn’t about to turn down freedom.

“Homework, Matthew.”

“What?” I snarled.

“If you feel so inclined, try asking Hannah how she felt about the punishment. And if you won’t do that, at least try to imagine Hannah striking you in bed, or withholding your orgasm or even sex, with no explanation or verbal contract, based upon an argument—”

I stepped out and slammed the door while Mike was still talking.

And I lit my goddamn cigarette in the elevator.

When I got back to the condo, I sprawled on the couch and texted Hannah.

Sweet bird. I need a fix.

She replied immediately.

Little Bird: Hi you.

Matt: Hi.

Little Bird: What happened to your appointment?

Matt: I left early.

Little Bird: Oh …