"I thought so too," he admits. "But maybe it's time to settle down. Build roots where my brother and best friend are."
"Even if I stayed, what would I do here?" I ask, voicing the practical concern that's been nagging at me.
"You'd find something," he says confidently. "Maybe become the official nurse of the Outlaw Order MC. God knows they could use one."
I can't help but laugh. "I never expected anything like this."
"Neither did I," he says, his expression growing serious. "And if you want to go, I respect that. But I'd love to have you by my side."
"Why?" The question is barely a whisper.
"Because of this," he says, and then he's moving across the space between us, his hand cupping my face as his lips find mine.
The kiss is nothing like I imagined, and I have imagined it, in quiet moments when I allowed myself the indulgence. It's not gentle or tentative. It's passionate, almost desperate, a claiming. His mouth is hot and insistent against mine, breaking through every professional boundary I've tried to maintain.
I respond instinctively, my hands finding his shoulders, careful of his injury even as desire clouds my thinking. He tastes like mint and something uniquely him, and I want more.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"This isn't because you saved me," he says, his voice rough. "It's because there are feelings between us. Feelings worth fighting for."
"Are you sure it's not the pain medication talking?" I ask, trying for levity even as my heart races.
He shakes his head, completely serious. "No medication could make me feel what I feel for you."
I can hardly believe what I'm hearing. This man—this dangerous, beautiful man—has feelings for me? For Rebecca Johnson, the curvy, shy nurse who's spent her life playing it safe? It seems impossible. But then again, everything about the past week has seemed impossible.
What's one more impossibility?
"I've been waiting for this moment," James continues, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. "When I'm feeling better and we're alone." His mouth claims mine again, and this time his hand settles on my thigh, warm and heavy through my jeans.
Heat pools low in my belly, an insistent throb I can't ignore. I've never felt my body respond this way before, never wanted someone with such intensity. But there's something he needs to know.
I place my hand over his on my thigh, stilling his movement. "James," I say, pulling back slightly. "There's something you should know. I'm... I'm a virgin."
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "What? Can you repeat that?"
"I'm a virgin," I say again, heat flooding my face but determined to be honest. "I've never... done this before."
Instead of the disappointment or hesitation I half-expected, a slow smile spreads across his face.
"If you want this," he says, "I promise to make it comfortable for you." His hand squeezes my thigh gently. "Besides, I can't even give it my all right now, or the stitches will break."
His words send a fresh wave of heat through me. This is just the beginning. Once he's fully healed... My imagination runs wild with possibilities.
"I'm ready," I tell him, surprised by my own boldness. "If I'm going to lose my virginity, I want it to be with you."
He doesn't waste a second. His mouth is on mine again, hungrier now. I throw myself into the kiss, pulling off my shirt with trembling hands. His lips move to my neck, my collarbone, trailing fire across my skin as he unclasps my bra and tosses it aside.
When his hands cup my breasts, I gasp at the sensation. His thumbs brush over my nipples, teasing them into tight peaks before his mouth replaces his fingers, his tongue swirling hot and wet around one sensitive bud.
My body responds with a need so intense it's almost painful. Between my thighs, I'm wet and aching, wanting to touch myself but too self-conscious to do it. Instead, my eyes drift downward, to where his erection strains against his jeans. Without thinking, I reach out, palm pressing against the hard length of him.
His sharp intake of breath tells me I've done something right. Encouraged, I stroke him through the denim, marveling at the heat and size of him.
His hand slides down my stomach to the waistband of my jeans, deftly unbuttoning them. He slips his fingers inside, beneath my panties, finding me wet and ready. When he touches my clit, I arch my back, a moan escaping me.
"You're so responsive," he murmurs against my breast. "So beautiful."
