Man of Honor (Passion in Paradise Book 4) (33 page)

Bree inclined her
head before making another note on her paper.

“Have you dated at
all?” the woman inquired.

“No, not really. 
Zeke and I go places together, but I wouldn’t exactly call them dates.”

“Where do you go?”

“Church.  Sometimes
to the movies.  Places like that.”

“Uh huh.  But you’ve
only done that with Zeke, correct?”

“There aren’t very
many men I’m able to trust outside of my family.  Zeke is one of the few.” 

“Well, Zeke has made it
clear to me on several occasions that he’s interested in having a relationship
of the very deepest variety with you.  Intimacy.  Marriage.  Babies.  The whole
enchilada.  So, my next question is, what
is
the sheriff to you? 
Personally, I think most folks assume Ezekiel Monroe
wants
to be your
own personal Prince Charming, Honor.  In fact, I think everybody in town except
for you might see this.  Why do you think that is?  Really, don’t you think way
deep down in her heart every girl is waiting for her Prince Charming,
Honor?" the therapist asked, her keen eyes fixed on the young woman
sitting in front of her tidy desk

Honor offered the doctor a shy
half smile. "No, I don't.  At any rate, I'm certainly not lookin’ for
him," she denied softly. "Besides, Zeke doesn't want to be my Prince
Charming, Dr. Daniels.   Prince Charming is only interested in finding
happily-ever-after with his fair and untouched princess.   First, Ezekiel isn't
that superficial; if you asked him, he'd tell you that prince fella was a
pansy.   And second, he knows good and well that I don't believe in fairy
tales."

Bree Daniels fought a laugh at
her patient's assessment of what most women considered to be the quintessential
fantastical hero and instead focused on asking another probing question.
"Then who is Zeke for you, Honor? How do you see him?"

Honor offered the other woman
a long, considering look before she answered. Finally, she lifted a hand to
touch the dreamcatcher necklace Zeke had given her for Valentine’s Day. 
"Zeke is the dark knight that would willingly walk into the fires of Hell
for me no matter how hot the flames burned down there.  I'm pretty sure that
Prince Charming and his trusty steed would let me roast and move on to the next
available maiden.  Zeke wouldn't do that. Actually, when I think on it, Zeke
hasn’t
done that.  Even when I begged him to do exactly that."

"Well, when you put it in
that context, I think a wise woman would choose the Dark Knight over the
Perfect Prince any day of the week, wouldn't she, Miss McKinnon?" the
therapist mused with a knowing smile.

"Smug isn't a very
flattering color on you, Dr. Daniels," Honor declared with a frown.

Bree chuckled.  “If it helps,
I don’t think you’re ready yet for what Zeke wants either.  One day?  Maybe. 
But there’s a lot of work for you to do first.  You need to experience some
things, Honor.  Things that most women your age have already had the pleasure
of feeling.”

“Like what?” Honor asked
suspiciously.

“Like self-pleasuring.  A
young woman of your age should know what a satisfying sexual release feels like
even if it
is
given to herself.  You need to date – and not just Zeke. 
I know you have feelings for him, and that’s wonderful.  But how will you know
if those feelings that you have are what they’re supposed to be if you don’t at
least go out on a few dates with other men.”

“Uhhh, I’m not sure…” Honor
quickly began to balk.

“I’m not saying you need to
have sex with them or anyone.  Just share a meal in a public place.  Meet for a
movie or a coffee.  Go for a walk in the park.  Anything would count, Honor. 
Then, you can compare how much you enjoy the company of others to what you feel
when you’re with Zeke.”

“I…”

“Let’s talk about goals,
Honor.  What do you want to be able to have achieved, say, at the end of six
months?”

“Six months?” Honor echoed
unhappily. 

Bree smiled again.  “Yes, six
months.  Seriously, if you give me six months of dedicated therapy and hard
work, I promise you, you’re going to come out of this a much happier, confident
young woman.  But you’ve got to be willing to do the work.”

Honor sighed deeply.  “Fine. 
How many goals do you want?”

“Let’s start with three,” Bree
suggested.

“Well, there’s the obvious. 
I’d like to try and work through what happened eight years ago and find a way
to make my peace with it.”

“That’s a good one,” Bree
agreed.  “Keep going.”

“I suppose I’d like to feel a
bit more comfortable with my body.  You know, looking at it with all my scars.”

Bree continued to nod, jotting
that goal down.  “Another great idea.”

“And I suppose I want to try
and figure out if I can actually have the life I always  wanted before all this
happened to me,” Honor mumbled, staring down at her lap again.

“What kind of life
was that?” Bree asked, keeping her voice gentle.

“You know.  Marriage. 
Family.  A baby,” Honor choked.  “I always wanted to be a momma, Bree.  My own
momma always said I was a born mother.  Aunt Orla, too.  I don’t wanna let
those men rob me of that if I can help it.”

Leaning forward, Bree
reached over to squeeze Honor’s hand.  “Then by Heaven, let’s make sure you get
it.  Then, you can go sing my praises to the good people of this fair
community.  They aren’t exactly warm and fuzzy with newcomers, but I feel sure
that they’ll trust one of their town treasures.”

“This is Paradise,
Bree.  It’s a land where grease is its own food group, sweet tea is the
beverage of choice no matter the occasion, church on Sunday morning is
required, not requested, and the name, John Deere is more revered than Barack
Obama’s.  These are not people that will accept therapy easily.  But I’ll help
spread the word that you’re the real deal.  And let me be the first to
officially welcome you to your new home, Dr. Daniels.  It’s a country community
where crazy could possibly be found right around most every corner, but we like
to keep it confined to the front porch as much as we can.  Maybe you should
consider adding house calls to your list of available services.”

Bree couldn’t contain
her laugh at Honor’s suggestion as a bell dinged from the corner of her desk. 
“And on that note, Miss McKinnon, time’s up for today.”

Monday, June 27,
2016

10:00 am

Honor 

Days turned into
weeks and the weeks turned into a month, and before Honor had realized it,
she’d been in therapy with Bree for seven weeks.  Seven very long, very hard,
but ultimately very rewarding weeks.  Rewarding because Bree was right, Honor
was feeling better.  About herself and life in general.

Oh, therapy wasn’t a
magical fix for what ailed her and she still had miles to go before she’d feel
emotionally healthy, but no one could deny that definite progress had been made
during those bi-weekly sessions. 

Yes, every Monday and
Friday for ninety minutes, Honor sat in Dr. Aubrey Daniels’ office and talked
about her
feelings
.  Which feelings, though?...one might ask. 

Unfortunately for
Honor, Aubrey Daniels required her patients to talk about all of them.  Yep,
every freaking feeling she possessed about the last several years was taken out
and examined, dissected and analyzed. 

With most of her
feelings, she’d learned to relax enough to open up and share.  After all, she’d
finally come to terms with the fact that if she was going to pay her hard
earned money to talk to a professional, she might as well get some bang for her
buck and unload some of the emotional baggage she’d been carrying around for
almost a decade.  She’d shared everything she could remember about the endless
hours she’d spent being kidnapped, gang raped and nearly murdered with her
surprisingly compassionate psychiatrist.   Thankfully, Bree wasn’t cold and
clinical like those doctors she’d been forced to see in the hospital eight
years ago.  Instead, her doctor was approachable and empathetic.  She was
sensitive to Honor’s limits, but insistent that her patient try to keep pushing
them forward.

The good news was
that the hard work hadn’t been in vain.  Honor had been able to remember more
pieces of her ordeal – pieces that she hoped could eventually help Zeke track
down the remaining jackals that had savaged her.  In addition to the
breakthrough of remembering that two of the men must have been brothers, she’d
also been able to recall one of them saying he could buy and sell everyone
there and for the money he’d paid to join the fun, he ought to get some personal,
private time alone with their ‘playmate’.  Honor still shuddered as she
recalled those words – as if she’d consented to be their partner in those sick
and twisted games. 

 The good news, if
you could call it that, was that where she’d felt mostly  humiliation and shame
about her ordeal when she’d first met with Bree seven weeks ago, now that
sentiment had been replaced by a kind of throbbing anger that burned like acid
in the deepest part of her.  She wanted those bastards found, and she wanted them
punished for what they’d done to her.

Because through
intensive counseling, she’d finally been able to understand that she hadn’t
done
anything
wrong that long ago night she’d been taken off the
street.  It shouldn’t have mattered that she’d been wearing a short
cheerleading uniform or that despite Aunt Orla’s order for Honor to stay by the
football stadium and wait for her ride, she’d walked down to the stop sign at
the end of the road near the high school where she’d seen Zeke and Sherry. 
Nobody had the right to do what had been done to her.  She’d been a teenager,
and teenagers were notorious for making stupid choices.  That didn’t mean that
they earned a brutal assault and rape.

Heck, no!

Therapy had also
helped Honor work through her feelings of misguided betrayal where Zeke and
that long ago night were concerned.  When she’d done as Bree had advised her to
do and looked back on the events that led to her kidnapping with an unemotional
eye, she could clearly see that while Zeke had driven away and left her there
on the sidewalk beside the road, she’d
told
him to go.  She’d
told
him
her family was on their way, and he’d taken her at her word.  It had been
her
decision not to climb inside the vehicle with him and his girlfriend at the
time.  In hindsight, it had been the wrong choice, but that had never been
Zeke’s fault. 

Bree had been right
during their first session together when she’d said that Honor was looking at
the whole terrible ordeal through the eyes of the woman she was now rather than
the girl she had been then and that had skewed her perception of events
dramatically. The problem for Honor, though, was that the woman she was now
still
remained very much confused about her feelings where Ezekiel Monroe was
concerned.  However, Honor could admit – if only to herself and Bree – that she
did look back on that exchange she’d had with Zeke eight years ago and feel
jealous of Sherry. 

Last week, Bree had
asked her to think about why that was, and Honor had finally shared her answer
with the other woman this morning.   And the answer was simple.  She could
finally admit it was because Sherry had been with Zeke in a way Honor never
had… and still wasn’t entirely sure she ever could. 

And that knowledge
burned.

Because the idea of
any woman sharing Zeke’s body or bed in the past or present tense was enough to
make Honor want to gouge her eyes out with hot pokers. 

Honor had also begun
to reluctantly process that while Zeke might have once enjoyed a different element
to his sex life… one she
still
didn’t quite understand how he’d  been
able to enjoy it… that didn’t mean that he couldn’t develop different tastes. 
More sedate tastes.  Bree had explained that often men sexually experimented
with a variety of things before settling into a lifestyle they enjoyed.  BDSM
was often one of the many practices that guys liked to investigate; it didn’t
mean it had to be a permanent life choice.

Happier, but still
plenty perplexed by the whole sex thing, Honor had decided to simply
concentrate her energy on getting herself healthy before she tackled figuring
out whether things could work on a more intimate level with Zeke.  Because
currently, things between her and the sheriff were pretty dang good.  Calmer. 
Steadier.  They’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm sharing their lives and a
house together.  And she liked it.  She liked it a lot more than she probably
should - especially given the fact that she hadn’t offered him the commitment
he’d freely let her know he wanted.  But Zeke was unflinchingly patient and had
agreed that she needed this time to get better without any relationship
pressure from him.

Oh, she still got
those scorching goodnight kisses from him at night since neither of them seemed
capable of giving those up.  Outside of that, however, things remained
comfortably platonic.

And when Honor had
arrived for her appointment early Monday morning, she’d thought this would
simply be another week of talking through her feelings.  She should have
figured that just when she was getting used to things, her crafty counsellor
would find a way to jerk the rug out from under her.

And today, during
Honor’s session with Bree, the infuriatingly forthright therapist had decided
to up the treatment ante yet again with one of her crazy homework assignments. 

Oh, yes….because Bree
had decided that this week’s sessions were going to revolve around Honor
beginning to see herself as a sexual being and taking control of her own body…
and orgasm.

To say that Honor was
less than thrilled about the new direction counseling had taken was… to say the
least… an understatement. 

~***~

Earlier that
morning in the office of Dr. Aubrey Daniels

“Absolutely not! 
I won’t do it!”  Honor’s loud denial rang through the otherwise silent office
as Dr. Aubrey Daniels simply leaned back in her chair and stared at her.  “I
can’t, Bree!”    Pacing the length of the elegant office, Honor continued
shaking her head, her high blonde ponytail bouncing with every energetic step. 
“This is insane.  I don’t need to have an orgasm!”

“Every woman needs
an orgasm every now and then, Honor.  The fact is, you don’t know what you’re
missing!  The woman’s vagina is filled with nerves just waiting to be
pleasurably stimulated.”

Whirling on her
heels to face the doctor, Honor glared.  “Look, you feel free to stimulate your
lady business whenever you take a fancy.  Mine is quite happy being left
alone!”

“Honor, the way
you avoid touching your body isn’t healthy.  We need to work on changing that.”

“Look,” Honor
huffed, dropping her hands to the gathered waist of the ice blue dress she wore
today, “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me since I started confounded
counseling, haven’t I?  I’ve done the shopping for younger looking clothes…”

“Yes, you did. 
And you feel much more confident in them, don’t you?” Bree inquired with
slightly widened eyes and raised eyebrows.

“Yes.” Honor
clipped through clenched teeth.  “But that’s not the point.”

“Oh, I think it’s
entirely the point I was trying to make.  You trusted me to steer you in the
right direction, did your homework and had a positive outcome.  This can work
the same way if you let it.”

“Bree, I can’t
just walk into the local Dillard’s and pick up a trusty fake penis!”

“Actually, I want
you to purchase a vibrator.  Probably something discreet like a bullet,” she
informed her patient knowledgeably.  “They’re smaller.  More compact.”

“A bullet,” Honor
echoed, blinking slowly.  “Like you put in a gun?  Because if you think I’m
putting anything with gunpowder in it anywhere near my secret garden, you’re
nuttier than squirrel poop.”

“What a colorful
analogy,” Bree remarked dryly.  “But luckily, I can calm at least one of your
fears.  The bullet that I refer to isn’t the same as the bullets that are used
to fire from guns.”  Leaning forward, she clicked a few buttons on the laptop
perched on the coffee table in front of the sofa where Honor usually sat. 
“Take a look,” she directed, nodding toward the computer screen as Honor took a
few steps forward to peer down at the webpage Bree had pulled up.  “That’s a
Bullet vibrator, Honor.  As you can see, it’s a similar size to a gun’s bullet,
but that is where the similarity ends.  It’s battery operated and can be
adjusted to a variety of speeds.  It provides direct clitoral stimulation
which, as I’ve explained before, is how most women experience an orgasm.  ”

Clasping her hands
together tightly as she began to pace again, Honor made a revolted face. 
“Please stop callin’ it that?”

“What?  Clitoral? 
Clitoris?  Clit?”  Bree questioned, watching Honor calmly when the other woman
hissed in an irritated breath.

“You do that on
purpose,” Honor accused as she shot the other woman a narrow look.

“I absolutely do.”

“It just sounds so
dirty,” Honor grumbled, pausing her pacing to stand and stare out the window
that overlooked the highway. 

“It’s not,” Bree
reminded the younger woman gently. “Neither is self-pleasure.  In fact, it can
be very relaxing.  The endorphins that are released after…”

Throwing up a
hand, Honor interrupted.  “Bree, I know this.  You’ve said it before and I
heard every word.  I understand the chemistry and biology of it.  It’s just…
the idea of experiencing that kind of pleasure…it’s…it’s…”  Honor searched for
a word.

“Scary? 
Intimidating?”

“Yes!” Honor
agreed quickly, her eyes lighting up when Bree vocalized exactly the sentiment
she was trying to find.

“The unknown
usually is both scary and intimidating.  It doesn’t mean it isn’t worth
exploring.  Listen, it’s like this.  You never knew you loved to cook
until…what?”

Cocking her head,
Honor shrugged.  “Until I got in the kitchen with Momma and Aunt Orla and
started throwing ingredients together.”

“You took a leap
of faith and dove into the experience, right?”

Honor nodded.

Bree continued
watching her patient as Honor’s face slowly changed into a look of
realization. 

Bree chuckled at
Honor’s muttered, “Well, crap.”

“Is that the sound
of a concession to cede to your therapist’s more experienced judgment that I
hear?”

“Fine,” Honor
whined.  “Where do I get one of these bullet doohickeys?  And it can’t be
within a thirty mile radius of home,” she added heatedly.  “If I’m walkin’ in
some sin den to get one of these things, I’m not riskin’ runnin’ into somebody
I might know!   With my luck, it’d be somebody I’ll have to see at church on
Sunday morning,” she mumbled woefully.

“Actually, one of
my sorority sisters that majored in female studies has opened up a tasteful
little boutique in Gatlinburg that caters to exactly the shopping list you’ll
need to purchase.”

“There’s a list?”
Honor asked flatly, her earlier positive mood now long gone. 

Holding out a slip
of paper toward Honor, Bree nodded.  “I just thought I’d have you get a few
things while you were there for future assignments.”