Page 46 of Wild For You

“Mixed feelings?” I ask weakly.

“Some are pretty clear.” He sets down the fork, and his eyes focus on me with an intensity that seems to set every fiber of my being on high alert. “I want to fuck you, Erin.”

“Right.” I swallow to get rid of the sudden lump in my throat.

I should be shocked, angry at his honesty. But instead I find myself aroused at the idea of joining him in his bed. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want him.

“I want to kiss you and hear you moan,” Cash continues. “I want your pretty hands on my cock. I want everything you can give. I want to make love to you in every bed, in every room, on every floor. I want to know every part of your body. I can’t do any sort of therapy before I’ve had you.”

His words turn into images before my eyes. I stare at him, but I don’t see the kitchen around us. I see us naked on a bed, with Cash inside me, touching me, kissing me, making me moan his name.

Heat gathers between my legs. I press them together, tight, but the motion does nothing to alleviate the growing need settling within my core.

I want all of this. All of him.

“You want sex before you participate in any sort of therapy?” I ask incredulously.

The question is simple.

The implications involved are not.

His proposition is wrong on so many levels. It breaks every therapist-patient rule. But instead of declining him, I’m considering it.

For the first time in my life, I’m considering breaking the rules.

“I wouldn’t put it like that. It sounds like sexual blackmail when it’s not. It’s an offer to engage in something that we both want. I agree to your therapy if you agree to let me fuck you.”

“Okay.” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Here’s what I propose.” My voice sounds alien in my ears, as if a stranger’s speaking. What I’m about to say might come back to bite me in the ass. It might make me feel cheap in my mind, but in my heart, it feels right. “We’ll start off with a one-hour therapy session this morning. Right now. Once done, we’ll see how you feel about it. If after what I’m going to put you through you’ll still want to kiss me, then I’ll let you.”

His eyes meet mine with a challenging glint. Cash Boyd likes to be rewarded. Who would have thought? “What if I want more?”

I raise my chin, meeting fierceness with fierceness. “You’ll have to work for it. You’ll have to earn everything you want.”

My heart thuds harder when he gets up.

My heart breaks when he stops at the door, hesitating. He’s about to leave, or is he?

Not turning, he calls over his shoulder, “What are you waiting for? And don’t throw the cake out. I plan on finishing it.”

As he slips into the hall, a smile spreads across my lips.

My body rejoices at the thought of getting close to him. It’s half a victory. The question is, for me or for him?

Either way, Cash Boyd has said yes. I should have kissed him the first time we met. Maybe we would have been off to a better start.

***

An hour later, I lean back, my body drenched with sweat and nerves. The first therapy session was a success. Maybe not success, per se, but Cash has made some progress…all while groaning and complaining and swearing his way through what I’m sure must have been the most gruesome workout of his life.

He kept proclaiming how much he hated therapy, and how much he used to love his life before the accident. I let him whine while remaining everything he needed me to be—persistent, annoying, and patient.

Most importantly, patient. Because if the physical therapist isn’t, the patient usually gives up.

I timed our session for a little over an hour, giving him time to get into his exercises. Just as I expected from someone with his determination, once he started, he kept going.

“That’s it for today, Cash.” I release my grip on his leg, removing the pressure on his knee pushed toward his chest. “I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

Sweat is running down his face as he peers at me, ready to argue.

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