Page 65 of Wild For You

Chapter Eighteen

Erin

Ihaveno idea why Cash has this impact on me. One moment, it feels as though I’ve reached my limit and I’m ready to leave, the next I find myself compelled to stay close to him.

The man is an enigma I can’t figure out. He’s practically a stranger, but for some reason, I’ve never felt closer to anyone in my life, as though we’ve known each other for a long time. There’s something about him that pulls me to him. I can keep my cool around a hot guy, even when said hot guy looks like a sex god. But I find it impossible to keep my cool around him, and not even his crutches can distract from his perfection.

It’s not just his looks that do strange things to me.

It’s his smile.

It’s the way he looks at me, as though the world ceases to exist, and there’s only us left.

Even the frown on his face, and the way he clenches and unclenches his jaw whenever he’s angry, is enough to send a ripple of sexual energy through me. Which is kind of ridiculous, not least because that’s usually the stuff of rom coms and teenage dreams.

I want him to like me. I want our therapist-patient relationship to work out. Yet, in spite of all my attempts to be kind, mellow, understanding, there are moments when I fail to show any of those attributes. Those are the moments when my emotions get the better of me. Emotions that don’t even make sense most of the time.

Cash and I are sitting on the veranda, sipping wine, while a soft breeze blows, cooling my warm skin. It’s hard to imagine two people sitting in silence, listening to the wind and the sounds of the night, without it getting awkward. But even the silence feels natural with Cash.

He speaks first, his gaze focused on the stars glowing like little diamonds on the distant horizon. “Want a refill?”

Without waiting for my answer, he gets up, leaning on his crutches.

“Sure. Let me help you.” I jump to my feet to accompany him because I know he wouldn’t want me to do it for him. That’s the one thing I’ve learned about Cash Boyd—never make him think his injury might incapacitate him in any way.

The clock on the wall in the kitchen says one a.m.

We’ve just spent the last five hours together without realizing it.

I near the rack with wine bottles and frown, unsure which bottle to choose. The thing reaches up to the ceiling and is well stocked.

“What are you doing?” Cash asks when I climb onto a stool. A startled gasp escapes my lips as it starts to wobble.

Cash’s grip on my hips keeps me in place before I take a tumble.

My breath hitches in my throat, and not from the strong grip that’s holding me in place.

His eyes shimmer green, boring into me.

He’sbeautiful.

Breathtaking.

Unforgettable.

And so deliciously close.

“Cash…” I start, but the words don’t quite find their way past my lips. How can I explain what his touch does to me when I don’t understand it myself?

My gaze sweeps around me. Everything’s spinning a little bit, but not enough to make me nauseous.

That’s when I realize that I’m tipsy.

“Are you okay?” Cash asks.

I open my mouth to assure him that I am when I end up leaning forward and pressing my mouth against his. His lips part in response, matching my need. All nerves in my body begin to fire at the same time, rendering me breathless, tingling with sensation. Cash’s hands wrap around my waist and he helps me up onto the counter.

I part my thighs to accommodate him as I deepen our kiss.

---