There’s a car I don’t recognize in the driveway when I pull into my spot. Looks expensive—a silver Audi this time. Did Weston get a new car? I don’t know how he could have. I’ve been gone for hours watching Charlotte and he doesn’t have a way to get around.

I head inside and put down my purse. Weston’s in his room, and I’m worn out from being on kid duty for half the day. This calls for comfies.

After changing into a tank top and pajama pants, I head down the hall and knock a few times on Weston’s half-open door.

“Come in.”

He’s sitting up in bed, a mess of file folders and paperwork spread out all over. Two more boxes are stacked on the chair in the corner.

“Hey, sorry to bug you, but there’s a car in the driveway,” I say. “Did you get a new one?”

“No, it’s my father’s.”

Holy shit, his dad? He’s hardly said a word about his father. I only know he exists because Caleb mentioned calling him after the accident. I glance around, like I could have missed another grown man in the room. “Is he around? Or did he just drop it off and leave?”

“Neither,” he says. “He had it sent over.”

“Oh. That was nice of him.”

“Mm.”

Okay, I guess we aren’t talking about his father. I take a few steps into the room. “What is all this stuff?”

“Work,” he says. “I had it couriered over this morning.”

“Are they patient records?”

“No, financial records.” He blows out a breath and drops the file. “There have been some discrepancies in the accounts that I’ve needed to check into. Since I can’t see patients yet, I figured I’d go through these. But I’m not even sure what I’m looking for.”

I sink down onto the edge of the bed. “Can I help?”

He looks up at me for the first time since I walked in and holds my gaze. His gray eyes are intense and suddenly I’m very aware that I’m sitting with him in his bedroom. I haven’t been in here a lot, other than to bring him food or a glass of water when he first got home from the hospital. Lately he’s been able to do more things for himself, so he hasn’t needed me as much.

“No,” he says. “But thanks.”

“Sure.” I’m feeling a little weird, and he’s obviously busy, but I find myself casting around for an excuse to stay. God, Kendra, what’s that about? You don’t need to hang out in Weston’s bedroom.

He starts shuffling the papers and files into a stack. “I’ve been at this for hours. I need a break.”

His cast makes it awkward, so I crawl across the bed and help. He doesn’t react—at first he complained a lot when I helped him with things, but after a while, he quit resisting. Now I just try not to make a big deal out of it. I get them in a neat pile and he moves them onto the floor on the other side of the bed. I notice he doesn’t wince.

Thinking about his injuries, my eyes travel to his midsection. He’s wearing a shirt today, but of course no pants. I glance down at his muscular thighs. He has the perfect amount of leg hair—enough to be manly, but not so much that he looks like an animal. His body is basically amazing.

I swallow hard and tear my eyes away. Fortunately, he’s busy plugging in his tablet and setting it on his nightstand. He lays his earbuds on top.

“What are you always listening to with those?” I ask. “Music?”

His eyes meet mine again and his mouth quirks in a smile. “You’re curious tonight.”

Normally when he says something like that, there’s a sharpness in his tone. He’s annoyed, or being sarcastic. But this voice is completely different. There’s a hint of humor in it, like he’s teasing.

That’s when I realize I’m sitting in the middle of his bed. Not near the edge, or the foot. Center.

My heart is a little jumpy, but I smile back at him. “Sorry, I’m just wondering. You wear them a lot.”

“Once in a while it’s music,” he says. “But I listen to audiobooks.”

“Do you?” That’s an interesting surprise.

He shifts so he’s partially facing me. “Yeah. I’m…” He pauses. “I’m dyslexic, so listening is easier.”

I freeze for a second, afraid to even breathe. He just shared something personal with me. He almost never does that.

“I’m impressed.”

“By what?”

“You,” I say. “That must have made med school even more difficult.”

He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. I can read. It just takes me longer.”

I think it is a big deal, but I’m not going to press him about it. “Well, I read a lot, so let me know if you need any recommendations.”

He smirks. “The sexual adventures of Max and Cherry might not be quite what I’m looking for.”

I laugh. “Stop. That was for a client. Although yeah, I read books like that. But I read a lot of stuff. I just finished a really good one about a serial killer.”

“Sex and serial killers,” he says. “Kendra is not the woman I thought she was.”

God, what is he doing? Is he flirting with me? If he is, I’m totally responding to it; my body is responding to it. My tummy is fluttery and my core tingles.

“I guess I’m full of surprises.”

“Yes, you are.”

I’m going to positively melt under that gaze of his. My heart is beating so fast, and I don’t know if it’s butterflies or a flock of birds that just took up residence in my stomach. I need to defuse this. Fast.

“So are you sure you’re feeling okay?” I reach out and touch my hand to his forehead, like I’m checking for a fever. “You’re in such a good mood tonight.”

He smiles again and I snatch my hand away. Bad move. Touching him is not going to defuse anything.

“Very funny,” he says. “Since when are you such a comedian?”

“Have you met me?” I ask. “I’m hilarious.”

“Your pants are what’s hilarious,” he says.

I glance down at my pajama pants. “Hey man, this is what it’s like to live with a woman. You have to deal with me in my natural state.”

“Your natural state involves fuzzy polka dot pants?”

“Yes,” I say, giving him a smug smile. “Yes, it does.”

He shifts and winces, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, fine,” he says. “Neck hurts from sitting here reading all those damn files.”

Don’t do it, Kendra. Don’t offer to rub his back. “Here, let me rub it for you.” Oh god, you did it.

He scoots forward so I can get behind him. He’s a lot taller than me, even sitting, so I have to get on my knees. I start kneading my thumbs into the taut muscles at the base of his neck. This close, I can smell him—clean and masculine. I work my hands across his upper back and he relaxes against me. I lean my thighs against him, which puts my hips—and certain other areas—in contact with his warm body.

His back moves up and down as he takes a deep breath. I keep rubbing, keenly aware of the heat building in my core. I’ve never been this close to him before. Half my body is touching his. His head droops forward a little and he makes a low noise in his throat. I pinch my lower lip between my teeth, biting back an answering moan.

I feel him turning to liquid at my touch. I stare at the back of his neck, imagining my lips there. What would he do if I leaned in quietly and kissed him? Slid my tongue across his skin. Nipped at his ear.

Oh my god, what am I doing? He’d turn around and ask me what the fuck is going on, that’s what he’d do. It would be humiliating.

My hands start to ache from the effort of rubbing his muscular back, but it’s hard to make myself stop. After all, he is one of the sexiest men I’ve ever laid eyes on. I thought that the first time I saw him. Sure, he can be an asshole sometimes, but when you get to know him, he’s not half bad.

In fact, he’s a lot less than half bad. And the part that is bad… I bet it’s the right kind of bad. The kind that would make me be bad.

Fuck, there I go again. I need to get out of here.

I stop, hesitating for a moment with my palms splayed out across his back.

He straightens and glances at me over his shoulder. “Thanks. That felt really good.”

I can think of more ways to make you feel good.

No, Kendra. Stop it.

Please let my voice sound normal. “Good. I hope it helps.”

He moves his head around, stretching his neck and I take the opportunity to get out from behind him. Since I’m already moving, I do the smart thing and get off his bed. Although, god, his sheets smell like him. I could bury myself in them and roll around.

Out, Kendra. Get out while you still can.

“Okay, well, I’m kinda tired, so I think I’ll go to bed. Maybe read or something.”

He nods. “Good night, then.”

“Good night.”

I leave his room, shutting the door behind me before I lose all sense and do something incredibly stupid. Like kiss him.

What is my problem? Kiss Weston? That would be a ridiculous thing to do. There’s nothing wrong with admitting he’s attractive. Okay, he’s more than attractive; he’s spectacular. But he’s not the type of guy I need in my life. I want something with a future—maybe even a forever. I’m not looking for a hookup or a few nights of sexual adventure. Granted, with him, I’m sure it would be incredible. And if I thought he might want me, it would be very tempting.

But that’s not me. I’ve never been able to separate sex from my emotions. If I slept with him, I’d only get attached. And Weston Reid is not the kind of man to get attached to. I know enough about him to realize that.

It’s nice to be friends with him, and I can appreciate him for the hot piece of man candy that he is. But that’s where it has to end. If I let it go further than that, I’ll only end up hurt.

But after all those little smiles and flirty laughs, sitting on sheets that smell like man heaven, and having my hands all over his back, I am a throbbing ball of need. I slip into my bedroom, strip off my clothes, and get into bed.

I can take care of this myself, and maybe I won’t be so crazy around him tomorrow.

My eyes drift closed as my hand slides down. I don’t even try to stop the fantasy from forming. It isn’t the first time.

Weston’s mouth on my skin. His body braced above me. His cock, sliding in and out of my wetness, hot and throbbing. His muscles flexing as his hips drive into me, over and over.

I definitely shouldn’t let anything happen with Weston. But I can imagine it, and even that is mind-blowing.