Page 47 of Wild For You

His muscles are hard from the effort, his skin is gleaming. For the last two hours, I’ve been trying to keep my professional cool and not roam my hands over his sculpted body. It’s worked so far, but my restraint is running thin.

“One more time,” Cash says urgently, his grip on my forearm stopping me from getting up from the floor.

I shake my head grimly. The bending exercises, with me working against him, might not look like much, but his joints aren’t ready for more. “You think you can keep going because you think you can do it all in one day. But trust me, you need to stop now before you injure yourself further.”

“Have you tried this?”

I smile gently. “Yes, but I wasn’t in your condition.”

“Then you know this is barely more than a stretching exercise. Reserve your bullshit for someone else, and help me get to the real stuff.”

The pain in his voice is palpable. It’s hurting him like hell; it didn’t in the past. He’s ignoring the surge of adrenaline and the warning burn in his joints. I can’t blame him for wanting to be normal again, but I sure won’t let him do more harm than good to himself.

“You’ll get stronger with each session. It’s going to be hard at first, but you’ll get where you want to be. Just give it a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?” he shouts. “I don’t have that much time.”

I’m actually being optimistic. The truth is that it can take longer. But that’s not the point.

I sit down, cross-legged, and regard him coolly. “Then you shouldn’t have waited this long.”

“I want it to be over this week.”

“That’s not realistic, Cash. You know that.” I proceed to stand and pack up my gear, ready to ignore the sudden outburst he’s about to have. They all have one, eventually. “It’s not easy for me to see you in pain, but you can’t rush your recovery. The human body is an amazing thing, but you need to give it time.”

“I don’t have time,” Cash mumbles.

I shoot him a sideways glance. He’s restraining his temper, I can tell from his set jaw and the thunderous look in his eyes.

Just like my patients, I’m always tempted to let them go a little bit further, push themselves just a bit harder.

But experience has taught me, this isn’t the way.

“Fine. If you don’t want to help me, I’ll do it on my own.”

Cash struggles to get up. Before I can stop myself, I climb onto his lap, straddling him. It’s a desperate attempt to make him listen, but one that backfires instantly.

His eyes cloud over and his arms reach around my waist, pulling me down on him. My breath hitches in my throat. My whole body reacts to his strength and need for me.

My hips grind into his, my core coming dangerously close to his hardness. I don’t know when that part happened, but I can feel it through the thin fabric of his workout shorts. His hand settles at the nape of my neck, forcing my head down.

Our mouths connect, eager to explore, hungry for each other.

I close my eyes and relish the sensation of his strong grip on me. His kiss is soft but demanding, carrying the promise of more to come—if I only let him.

Fuck!

I can’t let him.

Pressing my hands against his chest, I pull back with all my might. He releases me, albeit unwillingly. The lust in his eyes is evident, scorching, making me doubt my decision.

I want him; he wants me. What’s the harm, right?

“Erin.” His fingers begin to stroke my neck, drawing circles on my skin. “Don’t tell me this was a pity kiss.”

The idea is so ridiculous, I find myself laughing.

“Well?” Cash prompts. “Pity or no pity?”

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