My heart flutters and my stomach cramps. Today is Cash’s birthday, which shouldn’t mean anything to me.

But for some reason, I’m nervous.

I want him to have a great day, and yet I instinctively know it will be one of more struggle and fighting. His relatives visiting didn’t have the soothing and uplifting effect on him I would have expected. Maybe he had other things besides celebrating on his mind. Or maybe he’s simply unsocial. Either way, you never know what to expect with Cash Boyd.

With each passing day, I try to rethink my strategy, only to fail again. He’s unpredictable and uncompromising, which is the reason why the task at hand renders me nervous.

I’m standing in the kitchen, my old apron tied around my waist, sweat trickling down my back, as I try to complete today’s mission. I shift my weight, juggling several things at once. The counter is covered with flour and pots, and mixing bowls are scattered all over the generous working space.

I only register the approaching steps when he’s already thrown open the door to the kitchen. Startled, I lift my gaze, and my heart gives a jerk, as though it’s about to flee from my own body.

Cash is dressed in worn, blue jeans and a white shirt that hugs his sculpted body. Not even the tired lines beneath his eyes diminish his beauty. He looks so devilishly handsome, my body heats up and my cheeks catch fire.

I feel like a teen in heat, brainless and completely out of control when it comes to my body’s reaction to him. It’s like I’m reliving high school all over again, only I don’t remember ever having felt this way for a man before.

Ever since that damn kiss, I’ve been imagining us in all kinds of situations, most involving a bed and plenty of naked skin.

Sometimes, we don’t even get to take our clothes off…

I clear my throat and take a sip of water in the hopes he won’t notice just how breathless his proximity makes me feel.

Luckily, Cash seems oblivious to my thoughts as his eyes roam over the kitchen, taking in the mess, before settling on me, confused.

“Happy Birthday,” I say.

I point needlessly at the cake on the counter, my hands shaking a little because this is the first time I’m baking a cake for a man. It still needs the finishing touches, but I didn’t anticipate Cash to get up so early. It’s barely five a.m., the sky a beautiful shade of red and the air still crisp.

“What’s this?” he asks, his brows drawn.

“A cake. I’m sure you’ve heard of those, maybe even had a slice or two in your life.” Seriously, I might not be a professional, but I do think my cake resembles the real thing. Besides, there’s frosting everywhere. I’m probably even covered in it. That’s hard to miss.

“I’ve made it for you,” I say, in case it’s not obvious. “It’s your birthday gift.”

His eyes move to me, taking me in. Really taking me in, as though he needs to remember every inch of me. “You’re baking a cake at four in the morning?”

“Actually, it’s almost five a.m. And I started at three. It’s not as easy as it looks.”

He continues to stare at me, which is slowly starting to make me feel uncomfortable.

What the hell’s there to look at?

Eventually, his gaze focuses on the cake, and I can finally release the breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

Cash leans forward, his face so low, I can’t read his expression.

“Happy Birth,” he tries to read.

“It’s not yet finished, obviously.”

He looks up. “You didn’t have to.”

There’s a soft smile on his lips. It could be my imagination, but I think there’s also a spark in his eyes.

He likes my cake.

The thought makes my heart flutter a little bit faster.

“Well, I wanted to.” I shrug, as though I’ve done this countless times before, and it’s no big deal. “I love cake, both baking and eating it. Back home, I use every opportunity to cook. My mom once owned a bakery, and as a child, I used to sit in the kitchen and eat all the raw dough.”

I don’t know why I’m disclosing this information to him. I should keep my mouth shut, and yet I can’t.

When he says nothing, I go on, trying to fill the silence. “Did I wake you? If I did, I’m sorry.”

“No. I couldn’t sleep.” His eyes are focused on me, too sharp, too penetrating.

“Is it the pain?” He nods in response. “Why don’t you take your painkillers, Cash?”

“I don’t like the way they make me feel.”

I want to point out that being in pain all the time will make it harder for him to find the necessary motivation for therapy. But I remain silent.

I watch him as he opens a cupboard.

“Coffee?” Cash asks. It’s the first time he’s offered me something. His half-eaten sandwich doesn’t count. I frown when he pushes a button and a panel slides out, revealing a state-of-the-art coffee maker.

“You’ve been hiding the coffee from me.” It isn’t a question, but a statement, with plenty of accusation in my tone.

I’m so astounded I don’t know whether I should be angry or laughing at his audacity.

I mean, who does that?

“I had to.” He’s not even denying it.

“You realize I’ve been forced to drink tea for days?” I shake my head. “Why did you hide it?”

Cash doesn’t reply. Keeping his back turned to me, I watch him fumble with the huge thing. Come to think of it, I don’t think I would have known how to use it anyway.

“Cash?” I prompt.

He turns around. “I didn’t think you would be staying.” He holds up his hand. “And before you decide to say it, I know it was childish of me.”

“More childish than the fact you’ve been hiding from me? Or that you switch off my water to make me want to pack up?”

He lets out a short laugh. “Okay. That was really bad. I’ve been a complete ass to you, haven’t I?”

“I would never call you an ass, Cash.” I take a step toward him, but not close enough to touch him. “You had a hard time. That’s all. But you’re definitely a work in progress.”

His brows shoot up. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“Depends on how you see it.”

The smell of coffee fills the air. I expect him to reply, when he closes the distance between us. His hand cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheek.

For a moment, all I can do is stare at his mouth, wondering whether he’s about to kiss me again.

Do I want him to kiss me again?

Hell, yeah!

Even though he’s my—

“You have flour all over your face,” Cash says. His voice is so low and husky, he might as well have instructed me to take off my panties, and I wouldn’t be more flustered. My face flushes again.

I grab a towel from the counter to wipe my face with it when Cash takes it out of my hand and rubs my cheek gently. The gesture is so intimate that I forget to breathe.

He leans into me, his lips coming dangerously close to mine. The intoxicating scent of his aftershave reaches me. I inch just a little bit closer to him, and my lips part on instinct, wanting him, begging his mouth to conquer mine.

Our eyes connect, and something ferocious, like a hunger, passes between us.

“I lied before,” Cash says slowly. “The pain didn’t wake me. I smelled your cake and wanted to know what you were up to. I wanted to see you.”

“Why?” I croak.

“Because I needed to tell you how beautiful you looked yesterday.” His tone is casual, but his gaze betrays his insatiable lust for me. His eyes are ablaze, undressing me with every glance, scorching my skin. My body begins to tingle in response. He makes me feel chosen, wanted, as though I’m the only woman for him. No man’s ever had this effect on me.

I want to satiate his hunger for me, even if only for a night.

“I didn’t think you would notice,” I whisper.

“I often miss things, mostly because they don’t matter. You’re not one of them.”

My throat goes dry. I want to ignore his remark. He’s my patient. I shouldn’t pay attention to the intimate things he says, and yet I want to know what he means by that.

“What do you—”

His thumb brushes my cheek gently, the gesture cutting me off. “I notice you, Erin. All the time. How could I not?” His eyes pierce into me, cutting through the layers that have been protecting me for years. “I know what you’ve been trying to do.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ve been trying to make me jealous by flirting with my brother. Just so you know, it’s working. I didn’t want you to know last night, but I’m ready to tell you now.”

“You woke up early to confess that you were jealous?” I shake my head, unsure what to make of it. My patients often mistake gratitude for profound love, but they’re never jealous. “Is that why you were so angry yesterday?”

“I wasn’t angry,” Cash says. “I was disappointed that you wanted Ryder, and not me. I was ready to fight for you.”

The thought brings a smile to my face. He can’t possibly mean it, but his stealthy expression betrays his determination. This is not the kind of reaction I ever get from my patients, and it scares the hell out of me.

“I didn’t hook up with your brother,” I say. “I needed a ride to town to go shopping. Given that you’ve locked your car in the garage, Ryder offered. Where else do you think I got the ingredients for this cake?”

“The cake was your idea?”

“Baking a cake for you? Yes. All mine.” I catch his surprised glance and laugh. “Margaret mentioned your fondness for peanut butter cake. As it happens, it’s my favorite, too.”

He eyes me for a moment, trying to decide whether I might be making this up. It’s in that instant that his expression changes. The want in his eyes disappears, and it’s replaced with something else.

He’s cagey.

I can see it in the way he puts some distance—both the physical and emotional kind—by busying himself with the coffee maker.

I don’t know what I did to earn this change in him, but it sobers me up.

Silence fills the air as he prepares the coffee and hands me a cup, his expression grim.

“Why would you be jealous, Cash?” I ask slowly.

“I’m attracted to you.”

His honesty hits me hard. I’ve known it all along, but I didn’t think he’d be so open about it.

“That’s a normal reaction given that—”

His hard glance silences me instantly. “I don’t give a crap about your textbook experience.”

“I thought we settled that with a kiss? You said it would be enough,” I say weakly, fearing his answer.

What if it was enough for him? It sure wasn’t enough for me.

“I was lying.” He leans against the counter, taking the pressure off his hip. My professional gaze takes in the sudden lines of agony etched on his forehead. But sure as hell, he’s not saying anything about the excruciating pain he must be feeling. “Look, Erin. You can’t blame me. I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. It’s not helping that you’re sexy and beautiful, and…”

“And?” I prompt, breathlessly.

“And I plan on doing way more than kissing you. Seeing you with Ryder made me angry because I know my brother. He’d ask you out on a date, and you’d happily go out with him because, let’s face it, he can walk, and I can’t. I know I have no right to be pissed, but hell, I don’t like it. This isn’t me.” He points at his leg. “If only I could walk, you would see me differently, not just as your patient. And I—” He breaks off.

“And?” I prompt again.

“And I would have asked you out on a date first.”

I stare at him, at a loss for words, unsure what to make of him. Of us. I’ve known all along that I’m attracted to him, but I didn’t realize that yes, if he had asked, I would have gone out on a date with him.

Patient or not.

Crutches or not.

“Ryder didn’t ask me out,” I say.

“Yet.” A vein on his temple begins to throb.

He’s angry, even more than before. I want to assure him that nothing will ever happen between Ryder and me, but I sense he’s only going to continue drowning in self-pity. That’s the last thing I want.

But what I want even less is for him to think he has a claim on me.

“I hope you realize you can’t tell me whom I can or can’t date. I’ve been hired to work with you. What I’m doing in my spare time is none of your business, even if that involves seeking a bit of fun.”

His brows shoot up and his gaze turns a few degrees colder. “Are you seeking fun?”

I sigh, ignoring the need to roll my eyes. “No, but that’s not the point. The point is that even if I felt attracted to you, I wouldn’t go out with you.”

“Because of some therapist-patient rule?”

“No.” I draw out the word to make sure he gets it. “Because I promised your father and Shannon that I’d look after you. I promised them that I’d make you walk again. I don’t know if I’m going at this the wrong way. I don’t know what to do to make you realize you are your biggest obstacle, but I know that I can’t force you to start therapy. It has to come from you. You have to want it, so please tell me what to do to help you along.”

Cash remains silent as he retrieves two forks and sits down at the dining table, motioning me to do the same.

“Don’t you want to wait until it’s finished?” I ask.

“No. It’s perfect as it is. I like things better when they’re raw, naked.” Without so much as a glance at me, he hands me the fork. I take it from his outstretched hand and take a seat.

“Cash.” My tone is soft, my voice shaky. “Just tell me what you want. Tell me how I can help you because I really want to. Tell me what you need me to do. Just don’t make it so hard for me to do my job.”

I stare at him as he cuts the cake and then takes a bite, chewing slowly. Eventually, he shoots me a sideways glance.

“This is good.” He takes another bite, then looks up and smiles.

The kind of smile that makes me forget my anger and frustration and even the reason why I’m here.

He’s sexy. So damn sexy I want to press my mouth against his and let his tongue resume what we started a few days ago.

“You like it?” My voice is hoarse, breathless, heavy with want.

“It’s perfection.” He takes another bite. “Truth be told, I knew what I wanted before I met you, that being getting rid of you. What I want now is something else entirely. I kiss you. That’s all I’ve been able to think about. You, naked in my bed. Touching you, pleasing you.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, his eyes dark, brooding. I try to breathe, but drawing air has become an impossible task, as though there’s not enough oxygen for the both of us.

“Cash, I—”

“No, hear me out. I want to get this attraction out of our way. I want to do therapy, but I can’t with all those mixed feelings I’m having about 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.

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?”

“Absolutely not. Pity couldn’t be further from the truth.”

He cocks his eyebrows.

“I don’t want you to give up. But I can’t let you go too far,” I say. “If kissing you is what it takes to make you listen to me, then, by all means, let’s engage in plenty of it.”

“That’s all? You kiss all your patients to make them listen?”

His hips grind into me. He’s so big and hard, I find myself getting wet at the idea of doing it right here, right now. For once in my life, I want to forget about the consequences and just enjoy what I want.

But that’s not going to happen.

I sigh in mock exasperation. “I don’t ever kiss my patients. You’re the first. Engaging in any sexual activity with my patients could cost me my license. You know that.”

“Why choose me to break the rules?”

Oh, for crying out loud!

He wants it spelled out and served on a silver tray.

“Fine, I’ll tell you just so you shut up.” I roll my eyes. “I happen to be attracted to you, and very much so.”

No, make that crazy much so.

His lips twitch. “You need to see a shrink, Miss Stone. I’ve been nothing but a jerk to you.”

“If we see this through, I’ll probably end up needing to see one. I’ll have to share with him all the murderous thoughts I’ve been having about you.”

“Murderous, huh?”

“Very dangerous.”

“Do they happen to involve tying me to your bedposts and doing unspeakable things to me? If so, then by all means, please proceed and punish me right now.”

Now he’s really getting into it. I should be appalled, angry. But as usual, my reasoning doesn’t seem to work around him. I want to tie him up and do unspeakable things to him, after which I’d like him to do sexy and unspeakably dirty things to me.

“Maybe later.” Leaning into him, I brush my lips against his, once, twice. Each time our mouths connect, a wave of heat travels through me, leaving a tingling sensation behind. I don’t have to see it to know that his touch isn’t as harmless as it seems.

With every kiss, he embeds himself further into my soul—and I let him.

Eventually, I pull away from him and start to roll up the map.

“What if I want more now?” Cash asks, watching me.

I exhale a long, shaky breath. “If you want more, I’ll need to see more effort from you.” I kneel beside him but keep a safe distance. “But if it helps, I’m very pleased with what we’ve achieved today. You should be very proud of yourself, Cash.”

“It doesn’t feel like much.”

“Wait until next month, and you’ll think differently.”

“Next month?” He reaches for me. I try to move aside, but he’s too fast. Before I know what’s happening, his hands settle around my waist, pulling me on top of him. I crash against his hard chest. “I want it now. I want you now. I want you in every way I can get you.”

Wow. I stare at him, unable to breathe. I don’t know whether it’s from the collision or because of the sudden need to give him exactly what he wants.

“I’m sorry, but you have to work for it.”

“What if I can’t wait?”

“Then you’ll have to exert more self-control.” Which I hope he possesses, because I sure don’t.

I press a soft kiss on his lips, then scramble to my feet, fighting his hands off of me.

“I can’t wait a month,” Cash says. “At least let me have a taste of you. Let me lick you.”

My heart skips a beat.

Holy shit!

I want that. Badly.

I regard him, wondering if he’s saying what I think he’s saying. My tongue flicks over my parched lips as I take in his hooded gaze and the naughty glint in his eyes. Slowly, a lazy grin spreads across his lips.

“It’s my birthday, after all, meaning I expect a gift. The cake doesn’t count.”

I shake my head. “You’ll have to work for it. No sex until we’ve done at least ten sessions.”

I don’t know when I made this decision, but it sure sounds like I’ve made up my mind to sleep with him. Strangely enough, the thought isn’t as vexing as the fact that I’ve no idea how to make it through nine more sessions with him without giving in to whatever he wants.

“You’re seriously going to leave me with blue balls?”

“Yes.” I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the door, calling over my shoulder. “Now, clean up. Your guests could be here any minute.”

“What guests?” Cash’s voice bellows.

I don’t turn to explain that his family’s stopping by. I don’t answer because I don’t want him to see my face. He can’t see that he’s not the only one who’s going to be suffering from blue balls, figuratively speaking, of course.

As I take a quick shower, I can’t help but wonder what the hell I’m doing.

Nine sessions are going to be impossible to complete.

I should never have let him kiss me.

I should never have let his hands roam over my body like they belonged there.

Because now I know that there’s no way I’ll be able to control myself the next time he touches me. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want him.

This isn’t going to end well.