Sizzling Nights with Dr. Off-Limits

His words were aphrodisiacs to her tortured mind and body.

“Maybe we should have just stuck with sex the first time around,” she said, arching her pelvis against him and running her fingers along his shoulders.

“Maybe. Certainly, I don’t want marriage again.” His hands slid beneath her shirt, lighting fires in the wake of his fingers trailing over her skin. “That isn’t in my future.”

“You think I want marriage to a selfish jerk like you again? Wrong.”

Had she really just tugged his shirt out of his waistband while calling him a selfish jerk? Was she really going for his belt?

“You’re sure this is what you want?”

She got his belt buckle loose, undid the snap of his pants, his zipper. “What do you think?”

He groaned as her hands flattened against his abdomen, then moved to his hips and pushed downward on his pants. “I’ll make it good for you,” he promised.

“You better.” He always had. From the very first time, he’d made sure she enjoyed what was happening between them.

She always had.

* * *

Emily’s breath came in short, hard pants. Her heart raced. Her body was coated in a glistening sweat.

She remembered exactly why she’d allowed to happen what she’d just allowed to happen.

Sex. Good sex. Great sex. Out-of-this-world sex.

If anything, Lucas had been even better than she remembered.

He’d stripped her of her pants, her shirt, kissed every inch of her body, lingering in key places until she’d begged him for more, done her on the counter, on the kitchen table, hard against her refrigerator until they’d both orgasmed. She was pretty sure they’d permanently dented the stainless-steel door.

Now she was a sweaty mess. Naked. And wondered what she’d done.

As much as she probably should, she didn’t regret having sex with Lucas.

If anything, she wanted to thank him.

She’d thought she’d lost the ability to do the things her body had just done.

She hadn’t. No way, she hadn’t. With Lucas, she’d felt like a sex goddess, like the queen of phenomenal sex, like a fiery siren who gave as good as she got.

“Thank you,” Lucas breathed into the curve of her neck. “Thank you, Emily.”

“No.” She shook her head and began separating her body from his. “Thank you.”

She picked up her clothes from the various places they’d landed in their fevered removal, but she didn’t rush to redress. She didn’t want him to think she was self-conscious in front of him. She wasn’t. He’d seen her naked and flushed with the afterglow of sex many times before.

She’d just had sex for the sake of sex and for no other reason. Should she feel guilty or cheap?

“You were amazing.”

She flicked her gaze his way. He was smiling, looking arrogant and proud and satisfied. She’d done that. She’d put that look on his face, had given as good as she’d gotten. She knew she had, that he’d been right there with her all the way right up until they’d climaxed in a loud, guttural cry.

“So were you,” she admitted, starting to feel claustrophobic as the implications of what they’d done hit her. They’d just had unprotected sex.

What had she been thinking?

What had he been thinking?