We lock eyes, and it’s like we’re communicating without having to say a word. Ava’s in my head, and I can tell she sees what I’m thinking. She knows how bad I want her. How much I wish I could see her on her knees in front me, awaiting my commands. She can see it in me, but that’s not the part that has me in a chokehold. The worst part is that she’s my patient, and she wants the same thing. I get all the confirmation I need when Ava uncrosses her legs, placing both feet on the hardwood floor, and slowly spreads her legs, revealing to me that she isn’t wearing panties beneath that skirt.

I sit on my couch with my robe fastened tightly around me, and my mouth agape as I read through The Patient with wide eyes. I’m enthralled with the book, and for the last hour I’ve been drinking it down as fast as possible. Once again, Nathan Booker has released a classic. It feels like it was written just for me. The way he’s able to use metaphors that help me envision exactly what he means when he’s being descriptive, and the way the main character is both caring for his patient and also wrapped up in his own desire for her has me twisted into knots. I can only imagine what it would be like having a therapist like the one Nathan has created here.

“Ava,” I mumble as the struggle to fight my desires starts to become overwhelming.