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The Therapist's Secret Love Novel Cover

The Therapist's Secret Love

In the modern romance novel The Therapist's Secret Love, a routine physical therapy session takes a provocative turn when a therapist's vest unexpectedly tears. Exposed before her patient's guardian, she finds herself the target of his dark, unreadable gaze. The situation escalates when the powerful man pins her against a mirror, forcing her to witness her own disarray under his touch. This intense encounter marks the beginning of a descent into an uncontrollable and risky passion.
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Chapter 2

As I was talking with Mr. Hayes, his son, who was sitting beside me suddenly lost his balance and tipped sideways, instinctively grabbing my vest strap. Whether it was poor quality or just bad luck, there was a sharp rip, and the vest tore cleanly in half. My full, proud chest was exposed before Mr. Hayes…

I froze. For a heartbeat, it felt as if the air itself had stopped. The torn vest hung around my waist, leaving my upper body completely bare. My supple curves, once restrained, quivered slightly with each breath, while the peaks, already hardened from the stifling heat and friction, stood pointed and defiant.

My mind blanked for a few seconds as his intense gaze locked onto the sudden, stark protrusions. I hastily raised my hands to cover myself, managing to shield my chest but unable to shield the scorching heat of his stare.

"Sorry… s-sorry…" The boy realized he had caused the mishap and timidly withdrew his hand.

Mr. Hayes's Adam's apple bobbed violently as the bulge in his shorts became alarmingly pronounced; if the fabric weren't loose and stretchy, it might have split under the pressure.

He struggled to look away, but his breathing grew heavier, ragged and unsteady.

"Dr. Bennett… maybe you should… take a moment to fix yourself."

His voice was rough, and I scrambled for the white coat on the floor, wrapping it around me as my fingers trembled. But the soft flesh beneath it throbbed insistently, pressing against the fabric, forming two unmistakable peaks. When his gaze returned, it immediately found them again.

"I'll go change my clothes."

I muttered and rushed out of Room 4 to the changing area. Standing before the mirror, I saw my flushed cheeks, the fine sheen of sweat across my neck, collarbones, and chest catching the light. The two peaks refused to settle, stubbornly pressing against the fabric.

That evening, after finishing work, I wore only Jason's white shirt. The front buttons strained against the swell beneath. He leaned against the headboard, scrolling through his phone, while I straddled him, completely bare underneath. The hem of the shirt did nothing to conceal the smooth curve of my thighs.

His eyes stayed glued to the screen as I leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against his Adam's apple, then teasingly sucking at his neck. His body stiffened suddenly, and his breathing grew heavy. I explored further, my hand sliding down to grasp the soft mass beneath the shirt.

Three seconds… five… ten… thirty…

It lay there, unresponsive, like it had gone completely still.

Jason frowned and, annoyed, pushed my hand away.

"I'm tired today," he said, flipping onto his side, back to me, returning to his phone.

I knelt on the bed, shirt open, my chest proud and bare before him—but he didn't so much as glance. I stared at his back, changing clothes later, and lay on the other side of the bed, unable to sleep for a long while.

Since Vanessa had to care for her mother, she couldn't work on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, or Sunday afternoons, so I continued covering her shifts, taking care of Mr. Hayes's son.

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