It’s bad enough that my cock doesn’t work, but now I have to stay in a room that looks like a party for a kindergartner.

“Wow,” I say with a monotone voice as I stare at the dozen helium balloons attached to my manager’s hand. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Don’t mention it,” Christopher says.

“No, really,” I say with a laugh. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I know how much you love superheroes,” he says as he places the balloons in the corner, “so I got you one of each. Superman, Batman, Iron Man, Spiderman, even Deadpool.”

Great. Those are really going to impress my hot doctor.

“You’re getting some good press this morning,” he says as he stands beside my bed awkwardly. “ESPN, FOX, NBC, CBS—they’re all playing the footage of you from last night.”

I drop my head back on the pillow and sigh. “Are they playing the tricks that I landed or just the crash?”

Christopher runs his hand through his hair nervously. “All press is good press, right?”

Wrong. Nothing good can come from millions of people watching me turn into a pretzel while they chug their morning coffee as they rush out for work.

“Even Sports Illustrated called for an interview,” he says.

I shake my head as I look out the window. It’s around ten A.M., and the sun is up, shining over the city that’s streaming with life. Streaming with life while I’m stuck here for who knows how long?

At least I have a beautiful doctor to help me pass the time. I can’t stop thinking of her dark blonde hair and beautiful olive skin. I smile to myself when I picture her gorgeous gray eye twitching when I started to flirt with her.

She’s going to be fun. I have to entertain myself somehow while I’m stuck in this bed.

“Are you in any pain?” he asks.

I shrug. The pain I can handle. It’s the negative thoughts that are the killer. I’m at the peak of my career, and I’m desperate to get back on my bike as quickly as possible. The Moxie Energy Drink Championships are only four months away, and I have to be there. Riding. Not as a spectator.

“They got me on some anti-inflammatory drugs to bring the swelling in my spine down, but I can’t feel much. Nothing below the waist.”

His eyebrows raise. “Nothing below the waist?”

Knowing Christopher, if I tell him that I can’t feel my cock it’s going to end up on the cover of Sports Illustrated.

“Did you call my parents?” I ask, changing the subject.

“They were watching live on TV,” he answers. “Your mother called me the second after it happened. She was pretty hysterical.”

“She usually is whenever I fly off my bike.” It can’t be easy to be the mother of a freestyle motocross rider. I’ve given her more than a few gray hairs in my lifetime.

“I calmed her down and told her you’d call them when you wake up,” he says.

“Thanks, C,” I say with a sigh. But there’s something else. I can feel it. “What else do you have?” I ask, bracing myself for impact.

“The insurance,” he says as he begins pacing up and down the side of my bed. “You don’t have any.”

“What?” I ask, wincing in pain as I jerk my head up. Goddamn fractured rib.

“The Private Health Group dropped you after your last accident and The Careness Group the accident before that,” he says, rubbing his sweaty palms down the sides of his legs.

“And why the hell didn’t you get me insured somewhere else?” I ask, wishing I could get out of this hospital bed so I could put him in one. “That’s what I pay you for.”

“It was on my to-do list,” he says, backing away from me with a wince. “I’m sorry, Shane. I fucked up.”

I close my eyes and shake my head. This is bad. I’m probably going to be stuck in here for weeks, running up a bill that will wipe me clean and probably leave me in the hole. If I can’t ride again, I’m as good as fucked.

“What about my sponsors?” I ask after taking a deep breath. “Any of them want to help?”

He sucks in a breath. “Your sponsors already dropped you. They can cut you off after an accident. It’s in your contract.”

“The contract you negotiated,” I say, feeling like I’m going to puke. I guess that’s what happens when you hire your numbskull friend from high school as your manager.

“We’ll get through this,” he says, looking like he has no idea how he’s going to get us through this. “We just have to look on the bright side.”

I shake my head as I stare at the superhero balloons floating in the corner. “Look on the bright side,” I repeat with a laugh. “At least I have balloons.”

“See?” he says, smacking my shoulder with a smile on his face. “You look like you’re feeling better already!”

* * *

I’m staring at Wolverine’s face when the door opens and my gorgeous doctor walks in. My hopeless mood just drifts away when I see her blushing cheeks.

She looks tired at the end of her shift, but she’s still stunning. I thought I was seeing an angel when I opened my eyes on the stretcher and first saw her. I was worried that I had died and was already in heaven.

“Hello, Mr. Winters,” she says. Her voice is so formal, but that flushed skin is betraying her professionalism. I’m already under her skin. I could tell that the second she ran out of my room in a panic. It was a bit of a giveaway.

“Are you here to give me a sponge bath?” I ask with a grin.

She still hasn’t looked at me yet. She’s looked everywhere but at me.

“No,” she says sternly. “I’m here to give you a needle. It’s going to be in your behind, so you won’t feel it.”

“You mean I won’t feel your hands caressing my naked ass?”

Her eyes finally land on mine, and the intensity of them makes me flinch. “Did I say your behind? I meant to say your forehead.”

I laugh as she turns and prepares the needle. Her slim body is covered by the loose lab coat she’s wearing, but I can imagine what she’s hiding underneath. It’s all I’ve been doing for the past few hours.

“Can you shift your hips to the side?” she asks when the needle is ready.

“I can do a lot of things with my hips,” I say with a grin. “Well, normally.”

“Shifting them to the side will be fine,” she says. Her words are telling me she’s not interested, but her body is speaking another language. Her breath is coming out short and quick—when it comes out at all—and I can see the little hairs on her arms raising as she comes closer.

“So, what’s your first name, Dr. Mendes?” I ask as I maneuver my hips to the side with the help of my arms.

“Would you mind not talking,” she asks. “I’d like to focus on what I’m doing.”

“Sure,” I say with a smirk. “Focus on my ass all you want.”

She lowers the needle and huffs out a breath. “Am I going to have to reassign you to another doctor?”

“I just asked your first name,” I say with a shrug. “I thought as a patient, I had the right to know my doctor’s full name.”

She grumbles something under her breath that I can’t hear. It’s probably better that I don’t hear it.

“Madison,” she says. “My first name is Madison. Happy?”

“Very,” I say with a smile. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

She pulls up my gown and jabs the needle into my ass with a lot more force than necessary. It’s the first time since I woke up that I’m glad I have no sensation down there. That would have hurt.

“What’s with the superhero balloons?” she asks, looking over at the gift from Christopher. “What are you, five years old?”

I grin now that I finally got her talking, even though it is to insult me. Soon she’ll be as good as mine.

“They’re from my manager,” I say. “I love superheroes.”

“So does my five-year-old nephew,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

“I always wanted to be a superhero when I was a kid,” I say.

“Well, you have the muscles for it,” she says, then quickly shuts her mouth as her cheeks redden. Something tells me she wasn’t planning on saying that out loud.

“I mean…” she says, stuttering. “You wanted to be a superhero?”

“I always dreamed of flying,” I say, easing into my speech. I’ve said this a hundred times to a hundred different ladies, and it gets them wet every time. “I found the closest thing to it. When I’m on my dirt bike sailing through the air—it feels like I’m flying. I feel like a superhero.”

This is usually where the girl leans in and kisses me, but Dr. Mendes doesn’t look impressed. At all.

“Superheroes are supposed to save people,” she says with a look of annoyance. “Do you save anyone while you’re bouncing around on that bike of yours, or do you just break your own bones?”

I open my mouth, but for once in my life, I’m speechless. I wasn’t expecting that.

“You would make a good supervillain,” I finally say with a laugh. “The evil but sexy doctor.”

She rolls her eyes as she looks at me. “Supervillain?” she repeats with a tight laugh. “I’m more of a superhero than you. I actually save lives, which last time I checked is the primary function of a superhero.” She points at the Batman balloon and frowns. “I’m more of a superhero than that guy.”

“Batman?” I say with a laugh. “You’re more of a superhero than the Caped Crusader?”

“Yeah,” she says with a huff of breath. “I save lives every day. What does he do? He beats up a poor mentally handicapped man.”

“Who, Joker? He’s a supervillain!”

“How can he be a supervillain?” she asks. “He has no powers. All he has is a mental disorder, which skews his view of reality. He needs psychiatric care.”

“Wow,” I say, laughing as she frowns at the balloons. “I didn’t realize I had a doctor who was better than Batman. You should definitely wear tights to work. I can picture you dressed as Wonder Woman.”

“And I can picture you with a golden lasso wrapped around your neck.”

“You don’t like any superheroes?” I ask, staring at her in disbelief. Who the hell doesn’t like superheroes?

“None,” she says. Her silky dark blonde hair bounces as she shakes her head. “They’re all barbaric.”

“Barbaric?” I ask with a laugh. “What about the X-Men?”

“The X-Men are the worst ones!”

I lean forward, staring at her with curious eyes. “Please explain how the Xavier School for Gifted Children is barbaric.”

“Well, first of all, these poor children sign up for a school thinking they’re finally with other kids who are like them. And then on their first day, they find out that they have to fight. And not only do these fourteen and fifteen-year-olds have to fight, but they have to fight the most dangerous and powerful psychopaths on the planet in a team of vigilantes, which may or may not be legal. So, now these teenagers are illegally crossing international borders, accidentally killing innocent civilians, getting shot, sliced, and electrocuted, and the poor kids are only there because they signed up to learn algebra in a racism-free environment. So, who are the bad guys in this? Because it sounds like them.”

“Yeah, but Wolverine is so cool.”

She reaches over and pops my Wolverine balloon with the needle in her hand.

“Hey!” I say with a laugh. “Not cool.”

She frowns at the Captain America balloon that floats over, taking its place.

“Even you can’t have a problem with Captain America.”

She shakes her head. “Yeah, let’s teach our kids to use performance-enhancing drugs.” She reaches over and pops that balloon too.

“Iron Man?” I ask.

“Womanizer. Weapons manufacturer.” With a flick of her wrist, Tony Stark vanishes with a pop.

“Okay, okay,” I say, holding my hands up. I was initially annoyed by the balloons, but at least they’re something to look at in this boring room. I’ve grown attached to them.

Thankfully, she puts the needle away. Who knew that the biggest threat to superheroes was a pretty little hybrid Portuguese/American girl with a syringe?

“So, what are you into, Madison?” I ask as she disposes the needle in the little red container attached to the wall. She has her head turned from me, so I stare at her ass, wishing she had forgotten that big baggy lab coat at home.

“I’m into making sure that my patients don’t die,” she says with a tightness in her voice. “Although in your case, I might make an exception.”

I laugh as she turns, hoping that she’s joking. It’s been a while since I dated, but it’s also been a while since I met a girl like Dr. Mendes. She’s got it all. Sexy. Intelligent. Quick-witted. Not to mention that hot little body of hers that I can’t stop thinking about. If that wasn’t enough, she’s got a face so gorgeous that I’m contemplating tossing myself out the four-story window just so I can stay here a little longer to stare at it.

She’s exactly what I’m looking for.

Just what the doctor ordered.

“I’m going to need you to turn around and try to arch your back,” she says, blinking at me with those lush, dark lashes of hers.

“I was about to say the same thing,” I say with a grin.

She pulls out her pen and holds it up to my Hulk balloon. “One more perverted comment and the green guy gets it.”

“Okay,” I say with a laugh as I struggle to turn onto my side. “I knew you were pure evil.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” she answers with a grin.

She lets out some hmm’s and ha’s as she gently touches my back with her fingertips. “Do you have any sensation returning in your feet?”

“Not yet,” I say as I stare at the wall. “When will I be able to walk? I have to start training for the next ride in four months.”

“You won’t be training anytime soon,” she says. I look back over my shoulder and see her cute little forehead all scrunched up. She looks adorable when she’s concentrating. “And it will be a while before you can walk. The swelling isn’t going down as fast as I’d hoped it would. I’m going to send you for an MRI.”

Her worried face has me worried. I always look at the positive side of things, and I didn’t even consider that I might not be back to one hundred percent at the end of this. I’ve had dozens and dozens of broken bones, torn ligaments, cuts, and scrapes, and I’ve always healed stronger than ever.

But this isn’t a broken arm. This is my spine.

I swallow hard before asking the question that I don’t want to ask. “Is there a chance that I’m not going to walk again?”

My heart is pounding as her beautiful lips tighten into a straight line. “That’s a possibility,” she says with a softness in her voice. “But a small one. Luckily for you, you have the best doctor in Seattle. I’ll do everything I can to get you fixed up so you can get back on that bike and break your head next time.”

I laugh, feeling better already.

“But it might take longer than you think,” she says, sitting down on the side of my bed. Her perfume hits my nose and I’m sure it gets my cock hard, even though I can’t feel it. I’d ask my hot doctor to check it, but she’d probably just send in the guy with the hairy knuckles again.

“You should set goals for yourself to stay motivated,” she says, “and then have little celebrations when you meet them. Like when you get the feeling back in your feet, maybe you can buy yourself a Superman coloring book or something.”

She’s mocking me. I love it.

“How about when I walk again, you go on a date with me?”

She snorts out a cute little laugh as her cheeks turn red. I think I have her just where I want her when she stands up, her face serious again. “I like to keep my personal life out of the hospital. It’s a personal rule that I don’t get too close to my patients.”

That’s too bad, because I would love to get nice and close to her.

“Rules were meant to be broken,” I say, flashing her a sexy grin. “Just one date. On the day I can walk across this room.”

She shakes her head as she scribbles something onto her notepad.

“The only date I can give you,” she says with a grin. “Is with an MRI.”

My eyes never leave her body as she walks out the door. If she thinks that’s the end of it, she’s got a surprise coming. I’m a motocross guy. I’ve crashed and burned more times than I can remember.

Nothing can stop me.

I treat my female conquests like I treat my stunts—I never stop trying until I nail them.