Toxic (The Therapist #4): An Alpha Male, Relationship Coach, Erotic Romance Page 3

  “Ten months,” Trent replies. He wipes off invisible dust from his red and white flannel shirt before reaching down and repeating the move on his concrete-crusted jeans. “And before you say it … yes, we know that’s fast. We met ten months ago when Kim was hired at the same job as me. We met, fell in love, and didn't waste any time getting married. It has been two months since our wedding day, and we’re already in a therapist’s office. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I have a question for you, Dr. Colson. Isn't this a really bad sign? We’ve only been married roughly sixty days, and we’re already in a place like this. What does that tell you?”

  Dr. Colson steals a glance at me, but I don't move or speak. In an instant, Dr. Colson’s demeanor changes. He seems to settle into an even-keeled calm, where as before he was lighter, more bubbly. His smile is gone now, replaced by an expression of focus and determination. Unlike most people who meet Trent, Dr. Colson doesn't seem to be intimidated.

  “That’s an interesting question,” Dr. Colson answers. He picks up a yellow notepad from the coffee table and begins writing. “What does it tell you?”

  “That she's not holding up her end of the bargain,” Trent shoots from the hip. “Things were fine before, and now that we’re married, she has changed and it’s causing problems.”

  Dr. Colson writes before replying. “I see. Well, your presence here tells me you're both very young newlyweds, and you're undergoing a drastic change in your lives that takes a lot of hard work and dedication from both sides. So, when you say Kim isn't holding up her end of the bargain, I’m curious what the bargain is.”

  “She knows what the bargain is,” Trent fires back, his voice in a low growl. He doesn't like being confronted in any way. Dr. Colson may need to back off before Trent loses it. That wouldn't be good for anybody.

  “Okay, but I don't, so maybe you could enlighten me.” The therapist is trying to maintain control, but Trent is an alpha male and is always the one in control. It’s what attracted me to him in the first place.

  “She’s mine,” Trent says. “That’s supposed to be obvious in every way, no matter where we are. She is married to me, so she needs to dress like a married woman. Act like a married woman. Present herself like a woman who has a husband at home who loves her. She knows what she’s supposed to do.”

  “Hmm,” Dr. Colson utters as he writes a whole paragraph on his notepad. I’d love to see what’s written on that page. “And what is your role, Trent?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You say Kim has certain responsibilities as your wife. What are your responsibilities as her husband? What is your end of the bargain?”

  Trent hesitates. I can see in his dark brown eyes he's not comfortable, and I start to wonder if we’ll ever be back to see Dr. Colson after this, even if I want to.

  “To provide for her … and to let people know she's mine,” Trent answers, glaring at Dr. Colson like he wants to kill him.

  Dr. Colson and Trent stare at each other for a tense moment before the therapist jots something on his notepad. Once he's done writing, he finally looks up at me. Part of me wishes he wouldn't.

  “So, Kim, what's your opinion?” the therapist inquires, making my anxiety scream to life.

  “My opinion?” My voice comes out weak and insecure, so I clear my throat. “I mean, Trent is right. I don't try to do anything to upset him, but I still piss him off sometimes. I need to do a better job.”

  “A better job at what?”

  “Being his wife,” I answer with a shrug. “I’m not used to this, and I need to be better at making him happy, not upsetting him. Since we got married, I just haven't done a good job.”

  “Did you do a good job before you got married?”

  I shrug again. “I guess, but we weren't married then. Stuff that was okay then isn't okay now.”

  “Like what?” Dr. Colson asks while writing in his notepad.

  “Lots of things. The way I dress, the way I talk to other guys … lots of stuff.”

  “I see. So, now that you're married, you need to change the way you dress and make sure to not speak to other men?” Dr. Colson asks, and Trent is quick to chime in.

  “Now you've got it, Doc.” Dr. Colson flashes a glare in Trent’s direction before writing more in the notepad.

  “I see,” the therapist says. He leans back in his chair and lets out a loud exhale. “Well, personally, I’m glad the two of you are here. There are some issues I definitely think we can work out together, and I thoroughly look forward to our future sessions. The first thing I'd like to put out there is that marriage is a two-way street. The responsibility rests on both of you. It’s a fifty-fifty split. You both seem to think the responsibility is more on Kim, and the first step to our therapy is recognizing both of your roles. One of you doesn't have a different set of rules than the other person. You're in this together—to make each other happy. Can we agree on that today?”

  I want to nod my head because everything the therapist just said sounds perfect to me. It sounds the way a marriage should function, but I can't bring myself to agree. Instead, I look over to Trent, who sits immobile with a snarl on his smooth face.

  “Can we agree on that?” Dr. Colson asks again. This time, I muster up the strength.

  “I agree,” I reply, and just as I assumed, Trent turns to me, his face as cold as ice. We lock eyes for a moment that sends chills crawling over me before he turns to the therapist.

  “Sure,” Trent mumbles, but I think the thing all three of us can agree on is that he doesn't mean it.

  Chapter 6

  ~ KIMBERLY ~

  “Well, that was interesting,” I say once we’re back at home.

  The door to our apartment closes behind us and I feel trapped inside. I don't know where these feelings are coming from, but they're strong. Nonetheless, I push them aside because they don't belong here. Trent loses his temper because I make him, but I know he would never actually hurt me. Not really. Although Dr. Colson didn't really say it, I know putting Trent and me back on track is my responsibility.

  Trent walks into the apartment as he unfastens the buttons on his flannel before dropping it onto the couch and sitting down. I take a seat next to him and catch a glimpse of him looking me up and down. I've seen that look before, but I ignore it. I’m curious to hear what my beloved husband thinks of our first therapy session. It means so much to me that he wants to continue, because at the end of the day, all I want is for us to be happy.

  “So, what’d you think?” I ask as we both settle onto the green and white couch.

  Trent leans forward and unties his boots. He keeps his eyes on me, and I sense some frustration there.

  “I don't know about that guy,” Trent says. “He thinks he knows everything, but he doesn't know us, which is why I was unsure about going to a therapist to begin with. My parents never went to therapy, and they're still together after all these years and the ugliness their relationship has seen. So, I don't know.”

  “Trent, we talked about this,” I remind him. “We both agreed we’ve been fighting too much, and you told me I’ve been upsetting you. This is only to fix that, and I thought Dr. Colson was fine.”

  Trent glares at me. “You thought he was fine? What’s that supposed to mean, Kim?”

  Our eyes meet and my heart responds with a flutter of panic. “I don't mean fine like that. I mean I thought he knew his job and did it well, that’s all. I would never … Trent, you know what I meant.”

  He sucks his teeth and presses his lips into a thin line. I'm anxious about how he’ll respond, but he takes a breath and settles himself down.

  “Mm-hmm. Well, I’m not so sure Dr. Colson was so fine,” Trent says, kicking off his boots. “He seems full of himself.”

  “You think so? I didn't notice.”

  “Well, I’m a guy, so I can see that kind of thing in other guys,” Trent explains. He turns his body so he’s facing me. “He thinks he’s god’s gift to the world with those
green eyes, tanned skin, and nice clothes. Why would a therapist need to wear clothes that nice?”

  I think back to what Dr. Colson was wearing, and I have no idea what the hell Trent is talking about. The therapist wore light gray slacks with a white button-up shirt, and white and gray shoes to match. I can't think of anything else I’d expect a therapist to wear. He looked nice, but I don't say that.

  “I bet he tries to fuck his clients with clothes like that,” Trent continues, his glare trailing over to the TV he just turned on. “Speaking of clothes, if we’re going to continue this therapy thing, you need to dress more conservatively, Kim. You're a married woman who’s working on bettering yourself for the sake of your marriage, which means you shouldn't be wearing shirts that draw attention to your tits like that.”

  I look down at my white T-shirt, and once again, I’m baffled. When we left the house to go to Dr. Colson’s office, Trent didn't say anything about my clothes. Why would he? I’m wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt that’s fairly form-fitting, but I can't really help that. Like my mother, I was born with larger breasts than most women, and I couldn't hide them if I tried. My clothes didn't bother Trent until we arrived at the therapist’s office and saw Dr. Colson for the first time. The second Trent realized Dr. Colson wasn't some old man wearing a sweater vest, he started caring about my appearance.

  “It’s a T-shirt, honey,” I say, but my confidence is watered down, so it comes out weakly. “It’s not like my tits are actually out.”

  “Your tits are always out,” Trent fires back, but he keeps his eyes on the TV. “You always have them on display. You're always trying to use them to get attention.”

  I sigh. “I can't help that I have big tits, Trent.”

  “Bullshit. You could cover them up, but you never do. You like having guys like Dr. Colson staring at you, don't you?”

  “That’s not true,” I say as my heart picks up speed.

  “Don't lie to me.” Trent stares daggers my way, and I can tell I’ve pissed him off once again. I hate that I keep doing this. I don't mean to, and I try to think of how I can calm the situation before he really gets upset.

  “Honey,” I say, doing my best to make my voice warm and soothing. I move closer to him on the couch and place a hand on his upper thigh. “The only attention I want or need is yours. I don't give a fuck what Dr. Colson is wearing. All I see is you.”

  I smile, and a smirk slowly forms on Trent’s face, too. Without another word, I lean in and press my mouth to his, and we fall into a passionate kiss. In a flash, all my worries about Dr. Colson and my clothes melt away. All I feel is warmth and the love of my husband as he lays me back on the couch and positions himself between my legs. He may have been upset before, but I know exactly how to make my man feel better.

  Our relationship may have its ups and downs, but we always know how to bring things back to normal. We may fight and argue over dumb things, but I know how to satisfy this man, and he knows how to satisfy me. We’re so sexually compatible, nothing else really matters.

  When Trent and I fuck, the rest of the world disappears, and I forget how shitty he makes me feel sometimes. Our sex is my haven, and after a difficult first therapy session, both of us need the thing that brought us together in the first place—a splash of lust.

  Chapter 7

  ~ KIMBERLY ~

  “All right, everybody listen up. We’re hitting this stretch between north and south Frederica, which is only about a mile, so it should be a quick and easy project. We’ll go balls to the wall today so tomorrow can be a bit easier, and maybe even short.”

  Our project manager stands in the middle of a circle of construction workers decked in orange and yellow vests and blue jeans. His name is Sam, and he’s been my boss for the past ten months, since I got my job as a flagger for Lane Contracting. Sam, with his thick beard and pot belly, tells us where we’ll be going to fix roads. This is where I met Trent Redden, a construction worker specializing in concrete and pavements.

  I remember the day I saw Trent for the first time like it was a few drunken weekends ago. Sam had just hired me and told me I’d be joining a ten-man traveling crew who worked all over Delaware pouring concrete and paving roads. I was both excited and nervous, and when I showed up at our main office in the morning, it only took a second for me to realize I was one of only three women working pavements. One woman worked with the boys, while the other two of us were flaggers, meaning we literally stood at both ends of the construction site holding Stop and Slow signs to direct traffic. As we started toward our trucks to convoy to my first job, I unintentionally hopped in the same truck as Trent.

  On the drive over, the two of us kept exchanging looks out of the corner of our eyes, but we didn't say anything that first day. It wasn't until my third day on the job that Trent worked up the nerve to speak to me. I knew he’d been talking about me to his friends, and they were hyping him up for the conquest, but I wanted to conquer him just as much, so I didn't fight it. In fact, I welcomed it, and I’m not ashamed to say I slept with Trent on our first date. I’m a grown woman. I do what I want. Fuck you if you don’t like it.

  Ever since then, I’ve been hooked on him. Trent is five-ten, roughly a hundred-sixty pounds or so, with a smooth face and plump lips to go along with brown hair and a tough exterior. To me, the man is gorgeous, and his prickly disposition fits well with my own. Neither of us comes from nice shiny families. Both of us are outspoken and cuss up a storm, while also being from rough neighborhoods in north Dover. To me, we’re a match made in heaven.

  When word spread throughout our work crew that we were getting married after only dating for eight months, Trent and I didn't flinch. We knew it was fast for everyone else, but for us it was perfect, because we hit it off right from the jump. To go along with our phenomenal sex, we shared tons of laughs and a deep love for gangster movies. It seemed we grew closer together month after month, and when he asked me to marry him after seven months … I don't know … it just felt right.

  I've been involved in plenty of shitty relationships with even shittier men, but Trent didn't feel like them. He never yelled at me or talked down to me. I’ve seen him lash out at other people, but it was always in defense of me, so I viewed it as cute. Like I said, I’m from a rough family in north Dover, so I don't want some soft spoken guy who can't stand up for himself. If he can't stand up for himself, how can he ever stand up for me? Trent’s personality matched what I wanted, and when you find a man who can bring you to orgasm every time you fuck, you better keep him, because that shit is hard to come by. I thought about all of this when Trent proposed, and in the moment, I couldn't think of a single reason why I wouldn't want to spend the rest of my life with him.

  Things have shifted a bit since our wedding. We’re mostly the same, but there have been arguments, and Trent has a growing concern about how I dress and who I speak to. I don't know why that is. It was endearing in the beginning, but I can't seem to keep him happy these days, and that’s why I decided we should go see Dr. Colson.

  If I’m being honest, I would've gone to a different therapist if I knew Dr. Colson was going to be so handsome. Trent seems to have fixated on his looks, and I wonder if he’ll be able to get past it so we can continue our therapy, because I can already tell Dr. Colson is great at his job. We just need to give him time.

  It’s a stretch to say I’m worried about my marriage. We’re so young, and we’re still newlyweds. This is what plenty of relationships go through. Right? All men are super jealous and protective of their women, especially in the early stages of marriage. Things are tough in the beginning, and then smooth out over time. I think the key is to fix our problems early on, so our future is as clear as the sky above. I have faith in us.

  When we get to Frederica, the crew comes to a stop a few feet in front of a little bridge next to a housing development called Water’s Edge. It’s a cozy little place with brand new houses and lots of grass. The houses don't look expensive, but they're very
nice, and the first thing I think when I hop out of the truck is that I could see Trent and me living in a place like this in a year or two.

  As soon as the trucks stop, the crew hits the ground running. I pick up a sign with Slow on one side, and Stop on the other, and walk forty yards down the road, where one of the guys has already started placing orange cones between the two lanes. We’ll be shutting down one lane of traffic, so I’ll control this side of the project, while the other woman on the crew controls the other end. After only a few minutes, the guys get to work digging up old pavement on the bridge.

  I don't see Trent while the crew is working. From my position down the road, the crew is just a bunch of brightly colored vests moving all over the place, but I know Trent is there and he’s working hard. He has always been one of the hardest working guys in the group, which I’m proud of. As I turn my sign from one side to the other, I hear Sam’s voice above all the others as he tells everyone exactly where to go and how much material to put down before leveling it all out.

  An hour into the project, I flip my sign to the Stop side and watch as a car pulls up next to me and comes to a squeaky stop. It’s a red Nissan with the back two windows tinted, because you can't tint your front two windows in Delaware without approval from a doctor and the DMV. As cars line up behind the red Nissan, I hear the window roll down.

  Inside is a young black guy with a bald head and a smooth face. He's wearing a military uniform with the words Air Force written on his chest. He's not a bad looking guy, but I don't let my gaze linger. I put my eyes back on the crew as they work like mad to get the lane finished so they can move to the other one. While I wait to flip the sign again, I hear the man’s voice call from behind me.

  “Hey.”

  I don't turn around at first, but when he calls again, I turn my head to see if he’s talking to me, and to my disappointment, he is.