Page 16 of Wild For You

“I thought you were supposed to help me get better, not knock me over and land me in a wheelchair,” Cash says with a smirk.

His voice is low and lined with gravity. Given that he’s not even budged from the spot, his statement is absolutely ridiculous.

“You should have thought about that before you pulled me on top of you.” I shake my head. “What are you doing out here, anyway? You kept me waiting for almost one hour.” My gaze rakes over his muscular body. Taking a step to the side, I try to infuse more anger into my voice, but all that comes out of my mouth is some raspy breathing that sounds suspiciously like I’m fazed by his proximity and near-nakedness.

Which I’m not, obviously.

I just wish he’d put some damn clothes on, that’s all.

“I can see right through you. You’re not as unaffected as you’re pretending to be.” The double meaning is there, hanging heavy in the air. His brows are drawn and his lips are twitching, as though whatever’s going on in his dirty mind is the joke of the year.

“I’m most certainly not affected by a great body and a bit of naked skin. I’m more bothered by the fact that you think it’s okay to lie around half naked.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop myself. I sound so defensive, I could crawl under a rock and die from sheer mortification.

“I wasn’t thinking along those lines, but now that you mentioned it. I had no idea you’d be bothered by the fact that I’m trying to relax in myownhome.” His magnificent lips curl into a languid smile and my stomach sinks a little.

He looked gorgeous in that kitchen last night and this morning. But in the bright light, he’s stunning.

Sexy without even trying.

And everything I’ve vowed to steer clear of.

“You call that relaxing?”

“Okay. I’ll admit, I was hiding from you.”

His fingers graze the side of my face, as though to brush back my hair, but no breeze is blowing.

“I’m not your enemy, Mr. Body.” My mouth clamps shut at the realization I’ve just made a huge blunder.

Crap.

He is Mr. Body, alright, but he doesn’t need to hear that from me. His sudden grin speaks volumes. Gathering every ounce of strength I have, I add frostily, “Mr. Boyd.”

His brows shoot up. “Yes?”

“You still remember I’m here for work purposes, right?”

“Of course. I don’t suffer from dementia. Or Alzheimer’s. Luckily.”

“Funny.” I smirk. “Now that we’ve clarified that part, I’m asking you to get ready for a little workout.”

The tip of his tongue flicks over his lips. I know what he’s thinking; I can see it in his hooded eyes and feel it in the electric current passing through his fingers into me.

You can’t blame a guy for being horny, and certainly not when he’s probably been shacked up in his house for way longer than he ever imagined.

“What did you have in mind?” His hand reaches up, probably to brush that imaginary strand of hair away from my face again.

Hell to the no.

I swat at his hand and turn on my heels, calling over my shoulder, “Please, let me do my work so you can start doing yours. I expect you to join me in the living room in five minutes, Mr. Boyd.”

With that, I head back inside, ignoring the low chuckle I’m pretty sure was for my benefit.

Once inside, I sit back down on the sofa, prepared to wait out the five minutes before I head back out to drag him to his first physical therapy session, if need be.

Mr. Body.

What the hell was I thinking?

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