Bridget still didn’t believe him, which was insulting and flattering at the same time. Did she really think of him as such a great catch that she couldn't understand why he had no prior relationships?

That was a first.

But then Bridget was unlike any woman Turner had ever encountered, and not only because she was an immortal.

They clicked, for lack of a better term.

Somehow, their odd personalities aligned, or rather his odd one found Bridget’s no-nonsense attitude and quick brain refreshing and incredibly alluring. Their interests overlapped, and their sexual chemistry was off the charts.

If he were a believing man, Turner would have thought fate had something to do with it. But his fascination with aliens notwithstanding, he was too rational to believe in the supernatural.

Besides, why would fate favor him? He wasn’t a good man. He wasn’t bad either, but his good deeds hadn’t been altruistic. During his service, Turner had rescued people because that was what he’d been trained to do and what he excelled at. In the private sector, he did it for profit.

A saint he was not. Not even close. Not even good enough to stand in the shadow of one.

Except, a small voice in the back of his head whispered that some very good things were often done by very flawed people, while very bad things were often the result of the best of intentions.

The saintly variety didn’t hold a monopoly on good deeds.

Kneeling over him, Bridget pushed on his chest until he was flat on his back. “You’ll soon find out.” She ran a hand over his pectorals, following the ridges and valleys with her eyes. “You have a magnificent body. I could spend days looking at you and touching you.”

He smiled. “Do you want me to walk around naked when we are alone?”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“Only if you’re naked with me.”

She chuckled. “Now you know why people wear clothes inside their homes. It’s not because of the neighbors getting an eyeful through the windows. It’s because not much would get done otherwise.”

Reaching for her, he pulled her on top of him. “We would be like the bonobo chimps. No work and all play.”

“Lucky chimps.”

“I think they discovered the secret of life.”

She arched a brow. “Sex all day long?”

“Exactly. Food is plentiful, they don’t have any natural enemies where they live, and they resolve all conflicts with sex.”

She flicked his nose. “That’s because their society is run by the females. They don’t let the males get aggressive.”

He closed his eyes. “I can live with that.”

“Could you, really? What about your curious mind and your need to solve mysteries? You would be bored in two days max.”

Obviously, they were no longer playing the game, but Turner preferred to make sure. “Just so we are on the same page, you’re Bridget now, right?”

Snapping her fingers, she laughed. “Here, I made Gena disappear.”

Turner made a face. “What a pity. I was hoping for a ménage à trois. Two redheads are better than one.”

That earned him a playful slap. “Watch it, mister. Redheads are known for their hot temper. To rile up an immortal redhead is not smart.”

Right. Bridget had a good sense of humor, but it didn’t extend to jokes about other women. If he wanted this night to end with a couple of climaxes, for her, he’d better think twice before mentioning anything of the kind.

“I’ve been forewarned.” He lifted his palms in surrender. “I’m still waiting for you to make good on your promise.”

With a grin, Bridget pushed back to sit on her shins. “That’s right.” She palmed his erection that had since recovered from its temporary deflation but not all the way to its former glory.

That was quickly corrected as Bridget leaned forward and put her luscious lips on the crown. In seconds, her hand and her lips and her tongue had him panting for release.

“Please.” He put his hand on her cheek. “I don’t want to come like this.”

Unlike Bridget, who could climax numerous times and usually did, Turner wasn’t sure he could rise to the task more than once. Especially after the long day he’d had.

He might have been in excellent shape, but he wasn’t a young man anymore. At forty-six, he would be lucky to climax more than once in one session.

Bridget let go and climbed on top of him. “I’ll humor you this time. But just this once.” She kissed him, her tongue parting his lips and swiping lazily against his own.

He could have her mount him like this, but he had something different in mind. Her previous pose, on all fours with him behind her, was etched into his brain.

Lifting her by the hips, he moved her over and got behind her. “A million dollar view.”

She chuckled, then moaned as he surged inside her, not all the way in, but almost. Bridget pushed back, impaling herself to the hilt.

“Yes,” she groaned. “That’s it.”

If his lady didn’t like going slow and didn’t believe in taking it easy, who was he to argue?

Gripping Bridget by the hips, Victor pumped into her, increasing the force and tempo of his thrusts while letting the sounds of passion she was making guide him. Even with the bruising grip he had on her, Bridget was bucking into him, spurring him to go faster, deeper. When he felt he was nearing his peak, Turner leaned over her and reached around their bodies to massage the most sensitive part of a female’s anatomy.

They climaxed together, her sheath spasming around his shaft and squeezing every last drop from it. He kept massaging that sensitive nub, prolonging her climax until Bridget collapsed under him.

His hands still on her hips, he pulled her with him to lie on their sides. Kissing the soft skin where her neck met her shoulder, he smoothed his hand over her curves, admiring the way her narrow waist flared into her generous behind.

His Bridget had the body of a goddess.

His red-haired Venus.

Was the original Venus a redhead? He remembered Bridget mentioning the goddess’s tresses were red. Was the legend of Venus based on Annani?

He almost made the mistake of asking before reminding himself that it was a bad idea to mention another female while he was still buried deep inside this one. Bad etiquette in any circumstances, and especially where Bridget was concerned.

The doctor had a quick temper and a long jealous streak.

Turner grinned. Who would have thought a woman would ever get jealous over him? He had to admit that it felt good.

“Did you fall asleep?” Bridget asked in a sleepy voice.

“No.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“That I’m a lucky bastard who scored the hottest, most passionate woman there is.”

She turned her head around, a satisfied smile on her glowing face. “I hope you don’t plan on verifying that statement by sampling others.”

He kissed her cheek. “I like your jealousy. But just so you know, you risk inflating my male ego to dangerous proportions.”

“As long as I’m the only one doing so, I’m okay with that.”

“You are? Wait until I start strutting around like a peacock.”

“Pfft.” She waved a tired hand. “Join the club. The keep is full of peacocks.”

I wish I could, Victor thought as he drifted off to sleep. Joining the clan as one of them was an impossible dream he hoped against all hope would come true.