Prologue

She wanted him, and she planned to have him.

He oozed sex and power. Tall and dark with shoulder length black hair. The minute he’d entered the clinic, her eyes had locked with his. She’d felt heat rocket to her thighs, burning a path to her core. Raw with blatant sensuality, his eyes dropped to her cleavage, lingering and then lifting. She knew he wanted to fuck her.

Her brow lifted. A silent challenge. What was he willing to do about it? He smiled at her. A bring-it-on kind of one dimple job. And she knew the only cure for sizzling need this stranger evoked was hot, behind-closed-doors sex.

It was only minutes later when she knew he was alone in his room that she acted on her need. Entering his examination room, she shut the door and leaned against it. Watching him watch her. Her eyes dropped to the crotch of his pressed black pants. She could see his cock pressing against his zipper. As hard as she was wet, it was clear they both felt the power of nameless, potent lust.

She’d never seen him before today. Somehow, it only made the encounter more erotic. A forbidden interlude was what they would share. Her body pulsed with sensations she knew he could easily turn to ecstasy. And he would. It was in his deep, blue eyes…a sensual ability to please.

Eyes glittering with intent, his gaze slid along the lines of her body, lingering at her hips and breasts. Her nipples tingled with anticipation, pressing against the lace covering of her bra. His perusal was bold and hot, as if he’d touched her with his hand rather than by sight.

Her lips parted slightly, a long, blonde strand of hair falling over her cheek. His shoulders were wide, his chest impressive as it stretched over the rippling muscle she would soon have beneath her palms. Pressed to her body.

“Hard to believe a body like yours is injured,” she said, a husky quality to her voice. “I might not be able to take away the pain, but I know how to make a hurt feel oh, so good.” She paused for effect. “I promise.”

He pinned her in a stare, eyes narrowed with questions but still hot with obvious interest. “Who are you?”

“I’m your physical therapist.”

His eyes narrowed. “But you’re not in scrubs. You’re dressed like a nurse.”

The tip of her tongue slid along her bottom lip. She reached for a button on her white blouse and slid it free. And another. “Darn,” she said, “wrong outfit. I better take it off.” Buttons came free until there were no more. Pushing open her neckline, she knew what he saw. High, full breasts barely covered by sheer lace. But she didn’t stop there. Her shirt fell to the floor. Her bra came off next.

The hungry look in his eyes turned her on, and her nipples ached as they tightened, begging for his hands and his mouth. But yet, she loved this little game they were playing. “Like what you see?” she purred.

“Yes,” he said in a deep, low voice, his gaze lifting to hers. “Show me more.”

Pleased to comply, she reached behind her, sliding her zipper down before letting her skirt drop to the floor. That left her standing before him wearing white lacy panties and thigh highs.

She stepped forward, ready to feel his hands explore her body. Positioning herself directly in front of him, she reached for his shirt. He sat there, unmoving as she undressed him, shoving his shirt over his shoulders, hands trailing over the muscles. The move thrust her breasts closer to him, the warmth of his body and the power beneath her palms making her burn with anticipation.

Her hands settled on his shoulders, but he still didn’t touch. Then he surprised her.

The control became his.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered.

Eyes locking with his, the fire of lust was almost too much to bear. “Touch my breasts,” she whispered.

“Whatever you want,” he said, a tease of a smile on his lips as he filled his hands.

She sucked in a breath as he squeezed and then pinched her nipples. “Yes,” she whispered. “Lick them.”

He pushed the full mounds together, and his tongue lapped one and then the other. Teeth scraped. Mouth suckling. Her hands went into his silky hair, her moans begging for more.

“You like that, do you?”

He was looking at her, tweaking her nipple roughly, but oh so perfect. She bit her bottom lip with the pleasure of the moment and nodded.

“So do I,” he said, lowering his head to taste her again. “So do I.”

Suddenly, he stood up and she found herself bent over the examination table, her ass in the air and his warm hands exploring. Without warning, his fingers slipped beyond the silk barrier between her thighs, pressing into the slippery proof of her arousal.

“Damn, you’re wet, woman,” he murmured, hunger in his voice. His finger slid inside her, but she knew he was unbuttoning his pants. She could hear him and feel the movement.

“Yes,” she whispered, arching as he hit a sweet spot. “I want you inside me.”

His hands went to her hips, her panties yanked down her legs. She kicked them away, wanting what came next. His fingers slid along her sensitive flesh, preparing to enter her. And then he was there, his cock sliding inside her body, pushing deep to her core. She cried out.

“Ah, yes,” he half groaned, moving from side to side as if he could get an inch deeper. Then he pulled back, lingering with just the head of his cock inside her. She cried out, frustrated, needing him inside her. And then he thrust hard and deep. “Yes!” she cried out. He felt so damn good. So hard. She closed her eyes, arching into him. And then he was over the edge, pounding her with stroke after stroke of breathtaking pleasure. Pleasure swirled in her center, the tiny beginning of orgasm pressing close.

But then a loud beeping noise made her freeze. He started to pull out of her. “No!” she screamed, needing him, needing this. He was so hard, and she was so close. And then everything was black. But the noise kept ringing in her ears…

* * *

Kelly Marshall blinked, the sound of her alarm clock inching into her mind with the reality of a new day. “Oh, hell,” she said, feeling the wetness slick between her thighs. “Not another sex dream!”

Beating the pillow, she rolled to her side. What in the heck was wrong with her? She never, ever, acted like she did in those dreams. She hadn’t even had sex in damn near two years.

She frowned. Was this some way her body and mind had teamed up on her to tell her she had gone too long without a man?