my shrink says I have to do something for me. Something completely selfish. Something that revolves around what I want.” Gently, he tugs my cardigan aside and plants a kiss on my collarbone. “You’re that for me. You’re not charity, you’re not a sympathy project. You’re not in my room right now because I feel sorry for you, or because I think you couldn’t take down your stalker alone. You’re what I want, my ultimate selfish act, my darkest desire. So let me work for you. It’s therapeutic for me.”
