Instead, my mind kept drifting to other things. To a certain sheriff with hazel eyes. To gentle, sure hands on Judge's fur. To a shoulder brushing mine in that exam room.
I gave up on TV and went to bed early, but sleep wouldn't come. The sheets felt cool against my skin as I settled in, trying to quiet my racing thoughts.
My hand drifted down my body. This had nothing to do with Gage Coulter, I told myself, even as I closed my eyes and heard his voice.Yes, ma'am.
In my mind, we were back in that exam room, but Dr. Bev's voice didn't interrupt. Instead, Gage's hand didn't drop back to his side—it landed on my arm, warm and solid. That rough thumb traced a slow circle on the inside of my wrist, and I shivered.
"You sure you're okay?" Lower than before, almost a rumble.
"I'm fine," I whispered, but I didn't pull away.
His other hand came up to cup my jaw, tilting my face toward his. Those hazel eyes were dark now, pupils blown wide. "Don't lie to me, darlin'."
The fantasy shifted. Now those work-worn hands were sliding up my sides, pushing under the hem of my scrub top, fingers rough against my bare skin. I arched into the touch, and my real hand moved lower, mimicking the path I imagined his taking.
In my mind, he lifted me onto the exam table, stepping between my thighs. The duty belt pressed against me, hard leather and metal, and I wrapped my legs around his hips to pull him closer.
"Been thinking about this," he growled against my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point. "Thinking about you. Driving me crazy, Lacey."
"Gage—" His name came out breathy, desperate.
His touch was everywhere—sliding up my thighs, gripping my hips, one hand fisting in my hair to angle my head back. His words got thicker, dirtier. "Tell me what you want."
"You. Want you."
My real hand slipped beneath my panties, and I bit my lip to keep quiet. In the fantasy, his hand replaced mine, those thick fingers finding me wet and ready. He made a sound low in his throat—approval, hunger.
"So wet for me already." His thumb found my clit, circling in exactly the right way, and I gasped. "That's it. Let me hear you."
He worked me with his fingers, finding a rhythm that had me panting, writhing. His mouth was on my neck, my shoulder, teeth scraping skin, that deep voice talking me through it.
"You gonna come for me, darlin'? Wanna feel you come apart."
Then he was naked above me. Muscles flexed as he moved, shoulders broad enough to block out everything else, chest hard with strength. He was pressing into me, filling me, and the stretch was perfect. Those big hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise as he moved, slow and deep and deliberate.
"Fuck, Lacey." His control was slipping. "Feel so good. So damn good."
I was close, so close. In the fantasy, his hand slid between us, thumb finding my clit again, and he changed his angle, hitting that spot that sent stars across my vision.
"Come for me," he commanded. "Wanna feel you."
I came hard, back arching off the bed, 'Gage' tearing from my throat—half moan, half plea. The orgasm rolled through me in waves, and I rode it out, imagining him following me over, imagining what he'd sound like when he lost control.
Afterwards, I lay in the dark, waiting for my heartbeat to slow. The satisfaction was still warm in my body, the fantasy still vivid behind my closed eyes. For a moment, I let myself float in it—the imagined weight of him, the phantom touch of those hands, that deep voice saying my name.
Then reality crept back in. The empty bed. The silence. The fact that I'd just gotten myself off to fantasies about my client.
The guilt started as a whisper, then grew louder.
This was exactly what I couldn't do. Couldn't let myself want someone who might try to control me, to make decisions for me, to take over piece by piece until I disappeared again. I'd fought too hard to get myself back.
I knew better. I'd learned this lesson already. Protection turned into control. Helpful suggestions became decisions made for you. Before you knew it, you were small again. Helpless. Trapped.
I couldn't go back to that.
But God, those long looks from Gage. That word in his voice that made my stomach flip. The way his palm had felt so close to mine today. The concern in his gaze when he'd asked if I was okay.
What if he was different?
