Prevail (Triumph Book 3) Page 3

  Slowly he lifts his attention to me. His dead eyes suddenly fill with life. With anger. “You happened,” he bites out. “You and your stupid homework assignment.”

  If I was harboring any hope of Rico and I still happening it evaporates. I was selfish to think I could have him that way. Not when so many others have already done that to him.

  When I gave him that homework assignment I knew what conclusion he’d come to. I knew it would be painful and tough. I knew he’d ache with the guilt, with the disappointment, with the loneliness he’d find. Still I knew he had to work through this, and he had to do it on his own.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I never loved Angelica and she definitely never loved me. I was just a rebound guy to her. I was easy, accessible.” His eyes close as his head dips, his chin nearly resting on his chest. He looks so broken it’s physically painful for me to stand here and watch him. I want to go to him, hold him, touch him, and promise him it’ll get better. Tell him he had to go through this pain and realization to get better, to grow.

  “But, I fucking used her the same way, didn’t I? I used her because she was there, she made me feel wanted and normal. I didn’t feel like the fuck-up I am when she was riding my cock.” I flinch at his bluntness, at the vulgarity of his words. He looks up at me with so much in his eyes. It nearly breaks me. “I didn’t feel so damn alone and worthless.”

  I shouldn’t do it. I should stay where I am, or better yet move back to my side of the desk, but I can’t. He calls to me on some level I’m powerless to ignore. Dropping to my knees in front of him I wait until he raises his head, pinning me with his stare.

  “You made mistakes, Rico, that doesn’t mean you’re worthless. You just need to figure out who you are and what you want to be. I know it hurts right now, but let me help you through this, let me help you figure it out.”

  For long minutes we just stare at each other, I can’t read his thoughts and it’s starting to scare me. His facial expression never changes; he just looks at me impassively for so long I start to shift uncomfortably.

  Finally, I see a light click on, his eyes brightening just slightly. He reaches out his hand and using just the tip of his fingers he gently brushes back a strand of hair that’s fallen loose from my bun. The touch is intimate, sweet, and as much as I know I should scold him, or move out of his reach, I don’t. He needs to touch me, and some deep, dark, immoral part of myself needs him to touch me, too.

  “Okay, Kit.” His lips tick in what was supposed to be a smile but never fully make it there. “I’ll let you help me.”

  Chapter Four

  Rico

  Two and half sessions and I’ve done it. I’ve made Riley drop to her knees in front of me. And, damn if the sight isn’t exactly what I was imagining it would be. Her tight skirt hugs her hips even closer when she drops to the floor, the low cut shirt shows off just enough to tease.

  If only she were kneeling in front of me to suck me off, and not to offer her comfort, this would be a damn fantasy come true. As is, it’s an image I’m not likely to forget anytime soon.

  The longer she sat there, the more things started swelling—my dick with obvious need, and my heart with the need to feel a connection to someone, anyone. This girl is the definition of sweet. She doesn’t care that textbooks tell her a certain way to handle these situations, she doesn’t care that she’s supposed to offer an air of superiority over me. The only thing she cares about is taking care of me.

  She smiles up at me, a real, genuine smile, and it affects me on the most basic level. “What kind of music do you listen to, Rico?”

  It takes me a minute to answer, as I was unprepared for that question. I was bracing for questions about my past, about Angelica. About anything other than music.

  I shrug my shoulders, “I’m pretty easy.” I give her a sly smile at the innuendo, laughing at the way she just giggles and shakes her head at me.

  I watch her as she stands and makes her way to the old school CD player on the table in the back of the room. She sorts through her collection of CDs—that are organized alphabetically, and very meticulously places the disk in the player and the case back in its respective spot. Every single thing this girl does is calculated, thought out.

  Except for her sex appeal. She doesn’t even know she has it. She has no idea the way she affects me when she smiles, and especially when she giggles. She isn’t aware of the sensual way her hips sway with each step. And, I’m certain she has no idea how damn beautiful she looks with her eyes closed, head tipped back, as she takes in the first notes of the song she chose.

  I clear my throat as nerves and anticipation crawl through me uninhibited. How is it possible I thought she was just dull, plain, common? She’s gorgeous in the simplest way. She’s real, pure, innocent, but something about the way she carries herself tells me she’s been through something, too. That even as perfect and untainted as she seems, some part of her is broken, too.

  She turns in my direction, her eyes finally opening and finding mine across the room. “Awolnation,” she announces. “Have you ever heard of them? I love this band.”

  I just shake my head no in answer; mesmerized again at the way her hips move when she walks. She takes a seat in one of the chairs in the lounge part of the room, and carefully, gracefully kicks her bare legs up on the coffee table. I follow her lead, moving from the chair in front of her desk to the couch. I let myself relax into the leather, feigning an air of comfortableness I’m not entirely sure I feel.

  “We’re not going to talk today about anything other than music and food and movies and the most trivial things. Sound good?”

  When I walked into the building twenty minutes ago, I was pissed, hurt, annoyed. But watching her kick-back and relax, watching her easy smile, and knowing I get to spend the next forty minutes doing nothing but getting to know this sweet, contradiction of a girl. I can’t help but smile. A real smile.

  For the first time in as long as I can remember I don’t smile because I’m trying to mask an emotion I want to keep hidden. I don’t smile because I’m trying to get my way. I don’t smile to charm the pants off of some girl.

  I smile because I want to. Because it feels good to finally have something to smile about.

  “Sounds perfect, Kit.”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  My lips tick and I have to wrestle the laugh trying to escape back down. I was waiting for the question. But, I’m not really ready to give her an answer yet. For one, I don’t want to scare her off, and I’m kind of liking watching her squirm.

  With a light shake of my head, I give her a wink. “No reason, doc. No reason, at all.”

  She squints her hazel eyes at me and I can practically see the wheels spinning in her head. It’s driving her crazy that I won’t give her anything. But, instead of pressing she laughs it off and changes the subject.

  For the rest of my session, we share our favorite songs and bands, each of us taking turns playing DJ. We talk about our favorite movies and foods. We share some of our guilty pleasures and favorite past times.

  At one point, a slower song comes on and I stand from the couch making my way to her. In an exaggerated move, I bend at the waist, extending my hand to her. “Care to dance, m’lady?”

  She throws her head back and laughs, and I stand there shocked still. Her laugh is everything I never thought it would be. Loud. Unrestrained. Fucking adorable. Her nose crinkles when she really lets go and I feel another tug, another reason to gravitate toward her as I stare at that cute spot on her face.

  When she finally stops laughing and looks up at me, tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, I tell her something I should probably keep to myself but find it nearly impossible to do. “You’re beautiful, Riley.”

  The words were simple, the tone matter-of-fact. I didn’t tell her because I have ulterior motives, or because I want to embarrass her. I told her because at that moment it was unbearable not to.

  Her smile f
alls as she stares up at me. For a second I panic that I shouldn’t have said it, that I crossed the line, that I ruined what we had going on here. But, then I remember her eyes and the way they tell me everything I need to know, and when I look into them the panic disappears. She’s looking at me like I just gave her the most amazing gift.

  “Thank you,” she says in a soft voice. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been told that.”

  Anger floods me at the obvious hurt in her voice—the hurt she tries to push back. How can that be possible? How can anyone who spends even a few minutes with this girl not find her to be stunning, drop-dead gorgeous?

  I don’t know her story, but I’m not going to stop until I do. I’m not going to stop until she opens up to me. Until she truly believes she’s beautiful.

  Doctor-client relationship be damned.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I say as I grab her hand and drag her to her feet. “Because it’s true. You’re beautiful.”

  She gives me a small smile before placing her free hand on my shoulder at the same time I place mine on her waist. Silently we dance to the beat of an old Journey song.

  And for the first time in a long time I feel like my life has some sort of meaning.

  Maybe I’m still here, still fighting for no other reason than to help this girl believe in herself. To make her feel beautiful.

  I’m more than willing to answer that call.

  Chapter Five

  Riley

  Closing the apartment door behind me I sigh a little too dreamily and slide down it until my butt hits the floor. It’s official Rico Jones is my kryptonite. He’s rough around the edges in all the wrong ways, but sweet and gentle in all of the right ones. I kind of want to punch myself in the face that all it took to break my vow of no men was for a very sexy man to call me beautiful.

  “Whoa.” Roxy slides to a stop in the hallway when she sees my position. “Okay, sitting on the floor with your arms wrapped around your legs is usually a bad thing, a sign of a shitty day. But, the dopey smile and glazed over eyes you’re wearing are telling me it’s the complete opposite.” Dropping to the floor next to me she winks at me before continuing, “Spill it, girl.”

  I let out a sigh again. “Rico Jones.”

  “Damn, those are some sexy words. Tell me what they mean.” The dopey smile on my face morphs into a huge smile, laughter threatening to spill out as I take in the look on her face. Her murky eyes are wide and eager, her body bouncing up and down in excitement.

  “He’s this guy...”

  “Rico Jones is a name? That is one sexy name.”

  I nod my head up and down animatedly. “Right? You should the actual man. He’s… damn, I can’t even begin to describe him. He’s delicious.” She waves her hand in the universal give-me-more sign. “He’s a walking billboard for tall, dark, and handsome. He has this perfectly tanned skin, the perfect amount of muscles, and these damn chocolate brown eyes that make me want to just jump in and live there.”

  She lets out a moan at my words, her body melting into the floor a little more. “How did you meet him? Are you going to do him?”

  I just roll my eyes at her. Leave it to Roxy to immediately think about sleeping with him. Not that I was much better. Roxy and I are both therapists, although she works with kids—crazy, right? So, we are both aware of the repercussions about discussing our clients with others. It’s rare that we divulge much information to each other, but sometimes it slips. Sometimes we just need to talk to someone about a particularly tough client. But, because we are so aware of the consequences we make sure to keep it quiet. Keep it between us.

  “He’s a client,” I whisper. The displeasure clear in my voice.

  I hear her whisper her disappointment, “Damn.” For months, Roxy has been trying to get me back on the dating horse. But, I haven’t been ready. I’m still not ready. Opting to lighten the mood she says the one thing she know will make me laugh, “Well, since you can’t have him and it would be a damn shame to let all of that sexiness go to waste, mind if I take him for a spin?”

  I stick my tongue out at my friend before we fall into a girly fit of laughter. The thing is she’s only halfway joking. If I gave her the green light, she would show up at my office tomorrow and stake out until she met him. And, I have no doubt Rico would jump on the opportunity to spend the night with Roxy—most men do—despite the moment we shared earlier today.

  Once we’ve finally regained our senses, we find ourselves lying on the entryway floor looking up at the ceiling. I let out a long sigh and finally tell Roxy the reason she found me on the floor a few minutes ago, “He called me beautiful, and danced with me today during his session,” I spit out quickly.

  “He danced with you?”

  “Yep. To Journey.”

  The look on her face and the sound she makes lets me know that if we weren’t already lying flat on our backs she’d definitely be swooning. We’re quiet for a long while with thoughts preoccupied. I have no idea where Roxy’s thoughts are, and truthfully I usually prefer it that way because I’m sure she’s conjuring up some plan. My own thoughts are wrapped up in Rico as they have been since the moment he first walked into my office not too long ago.

  His coffee brown eyes are absolutely delicious and I swear they only look at me, only see me when I’m in the same room as him. When he looks into my eyes, I want to crawl into my shell and hide because I know he’s seeing me. He’s seeing the façade I wear so well, he’s seeing the broken parts of me I tried to super glue back together. He sees me as a girl, a girl that’s worth something, worth someone’s time, and attention.

  He makes me feel beautiful.

  “I’ve got it!” Roxy shouts causing me to jump. Rolling onto her side she smiles down at me. “You want him, right?”

  Turning my head back toward the ceiling I stare at the cracked paint for a long time fighting my way through my fears. “Yeah, I think I do,” I finally admit out loud. “But I’m fucking terrified, Rox. I can’t do it again. Besides, it doesn’t matter. He’s my client. I can’t date him no matter how badly I want to.”

  Climbing on top of me she straddles me, her hands gripping my face tightly. “You can and you will. Fix him because I know you won’t let him go until you do, and then pass him on to someone else at your office. Then take him, Ri. You deserve happiness and if he gives it to you… fucking take it.”

  I smile up at my best friend in the entire world. The one girl that totally understands everything I am and everything I need. She’s right. I’ve kept my heart hidden for a long time—even William never really had my whole heart.

  I don’t want to hide anymore. I have a small glimmer of what it feels like to be in love. What it feels like to fall asleep in a man’s arms. To feel safe. To feel desired.

  And I miss it. And I want it all. I want real, true, can’t-live-without-you love.

  I don’t know if Rico Jones is the man for me. If he’s the man I can fall madly in love with. But, I do know he’s the first man to make me feel something other than fear, pain, and regret. He makes me hopeful.

  “You’re right, Rox. I’m going to put myself out there again. I’m going to go after Rico Jones.”

  “Damn, that name,” she sighs in response.

  Tears and laughter and happiness and fear fill my whole body but I hold on to that shred of hope Roxy gave me. I deserve this.

  ***

  Roxy said I needed to fix Rico, but that’s not the case. I need to break him. I need to break down his walls, his barriers. I need to break through his fears and doubts, all of the things dragging him down. I need to free him from the proverbial chains keeping him locked in a place he should have left long ago. A place he’s more than ready to leave.

  After just a handful of sessions with him I think I’ve finally gotten to the root of his problems—self-doubt. He knows he’s good looking, he knows he can have it all in that respect. But, he doesn’t know how damn good his heart is or how much happiness he deserves
.

  As a therapist, it’s sometimes hard to see clients face their fears and fight through them. Other times though, it’s the best job in the world to watch your client, this person, come out on the other side stronger, braver, more whole.

  I want to give that to Rico. I want him to be stronger, better. Better for him though, not for me. I’ve spent the last week reading Rico’s files over and over trying to find one little piece of information I can use to expedite his healing.

  So, even though today has been trying and I truly just want to throw in the towel and go home, I find it in me to get excited about Rico’s session. When my door opens and the man occupying all of my brain space fills the frame, I’m renewed with energy and determination. “Hey, doc.” He flashes me that smile and I melt just a little bit.

  “Rico, how are you today?” I ask, following him to the lounge area of my office. I’m glad he’s decided to sit over there, he seems to open up more when he’s comfortable. When he’s seated in front of my desk, I think he feels threatened.

  “Truth?” He asks sheepishly. When I just nod at him he continues, “Not so good today, Kit.”

  Sitting up straighter I look over at him with a crease between my brows. “What’s going on?”

  “Today’s the day I got out of jail, five years ago. The day I realized I lost my grandparents. It’s the anniversary of my downward spiral.”

  The dejection in his voice kills me. Setting my notebook down I curl my legs under my body in a very improper pose, but as I get comfortable I watch as he does the same. Keeping my voice practiced, but sincere I whisper, “Tell me about it.”

  Chapter Six

  Rico

  I close the door behind me and lean against it with a relieved sigh. Tonight’s session was brutal. Riley made me answer questions I never thought I would, or could. She made me dig through some of the toughest shit I’ve ever been through, but she does it so skillfully, so carefully, so thoughtfully that it wasn’t nearly as painful as I thought it would be.