“So get me up on the table.” Charlie moved against her, his leg sliding between hers. The feeling of his muscles bunching between her legs sent a thrill racing through her, sparks of electricity popping down her spine. “Examine me,” he rumbled. “Check me all over.”

  “That’s not…” Dylan trailed off, her protest forgotten. She could feel the suppressed strength in Charlie’s every touch, in the bulge of his muscles, the stretch of his skin. He could pick her up if he wanted, toss her around, tear off the dress he’d bought for her and do as he pleased. She closed her eyes and she saw herself as his rag doll, and a rush of anticipation made her toes curl.

  “My office,” she said, summoning the last of her self-control. “We can’t do this standing. Not with your knee.”

  Charlie’s eyes blazed. “So, we’re doing this?”

  “Don’t make me say it twice.” Dylan led him out of the doorway and down the hall. They didn’t have far to go to reach her office. Charlie fumbled the door open and they staggered inside, his hands in her hair, her hands on his ass. Dylan kicked the door shut behind them and pushed Charlie back till his thighs hit her desk.

  “You wanted to get up on my table? Go on. All yours.”

  Charlie swept her desk clear, sending file folders flying. A paperweight bounced off her chair and rolled away. He lay back on Dylan’s blotter and pulled her down with him, and she heard the distinct tear of fabric as he jerked her skirt up. She went for his shirt, scattering buttons, dipping her head to taste the tang of his sweat.

  Charlie reached between them and yanked her black nylons down. Dylan squirmed out of them and straddled his hips. The cool air of the office hit her bare thighs. Charlie slid his hand up her thigh and thumbed her bare slit. His thumb was rough, callused, the sensation intense. Dylan bit her own shoulder to muffle a cry.

  “You’re wet,” he murmured. Dylan hissed through her teeth. She wanted to refute his claim—he sounded entirely too pleased with himself—but the truth was she wanted him too badly to hide. His hand smoothed back down her thigh, trailing goosebumps, before disappearing back beneath the torn fabric of the dress. Charlie found her clit and brushed it lightly. Dylan moaned, craving more, and ground into his touch.

  “Let’s get this off you.” Charlie’s other hand came up to unzip her dress. He tugged it over her head and tossed it aside. She hadn’t bothered with a bra, and her breasts bounced free, and she couldn’t help but feel gratified when Charlie stilled at the sight. He lay just admiring her, devouring her with his eyes.

  “Magnificent,” he breathed. “Your breasts are fantastic.” He reached up at last to cup one in his palm, then rose on his elbow to worship the other with his mouth. His tongue flicked at her nipple and Dylan saw stars.

  “Condoms. Desk drawer,” she panted. When he raised his head to stare at her in disbelief, she couldn’t help the giddy laugh that overtook her. “Of course not. What, do you think I schedule regular sexual intercourse at work?”

  “I was hoping to be the first.” One of Charlie’s hands disappeared behind his back, and he drew his wallet out of his pants pocket. “And don’t call it sexual intercourse. Call it what it is.” He tore the condom’s packaging open with his teeth. The size printed on the plastic didn’t escape her notice.

  “Oh, fuck,” she muttered.

  “Exactly.”

  Charlie whipped his jacket off and let his ruined shirt fall away. When Dylan reached for the front of his pants, he leaned back to watch her, breathing shallowly as she set his cock free. She took it in both hands, testing its weight.

  “Healthy,” she murmured. She teased his cockslit enough to make him twitch. “Good response.”

  Charlie flexed a little, and his cock bobbed in her hands. Dylan chuckled, but she couldn’t wait. Now she had him in her hands, there was no going back. All that was left was to mount up and ride him.

  He passed her the condom, and Dylan did the honors. She drew in a deep breath and lowered herself down, gasping as his cock throbbed against her entrance. Dylan hissed and arched her back; already she could feel that it was going to be a tight fit. Charlie must have known he was packing a battering ram.

  “Let me,” he said, and took himself in hand. He stroked her and teased her with just the head of his cock, circling her clit and coating himself in her juices. The slightest brush set her nerves on fire. The sheer anticipation threatened to overwhelm her as Charlie teased her to the brink of insanity.

  “You’re ready for it,” he murmured into her ear. “I can feel it.”

  Dylan nodded, swallowing, as he arched his hips up. He pushed into her slowly, but still her head spun. She grabbed his shoulders for balance and closed her eyes, and the head of his cock pushed past her folds and inside. She felt herself stretch around him, the slickness of her desire easing his way. He slid into her another inch, and Dylan gasped. Her head fell back, and her knees quaked.

  “That’s my girl.” One of Charlie’s hands slid beneath her to cup her buttocks and pull her toward him. She took another inch into her, then another, feeling the aching emptiness inside her sated.

  But the ache was fast returning. It was one thing to be full, but she needed to move, to experience that initial entry again. And again. Charlie was right—she was ready for it, and she was ready now. And there was no way in hell she was going to let this be the end of it.

  “God, you feel amazing,” Charlie growled through clenched teeth. He ran his hands down her back, and she rode him hard, eyes closed, head back, lost in sensation. He matched her brisk pace with tight upward thrusts, snapping his hips to sheathe himself deep. Pleasure coiled inside her, almost too intense, and then Charlie slowed beneath her and held her in check, thumbs digging into the flesh of her hips.

  “I don’t want it slow,” she said.

  “I know you don’t.” He winked wickedly, and Dylan wanted to slap him. His command of the situation was sexy—it was—but she’d been so close…

  “I need it,” she begged.

  His grip tightened on her ass, and he yanked her down again. His other hand cupped the back of her neck to pull her down for a kiss. His fingers pushed up into her hair, gathered a fistful and twisted it hard. The pain sent a shower of sparks across her vision, combining with pleasure to draw a cry from her throat.

  “Yes,” she moaned. She dropped her head, lips parted in wanton astonishment. She wanted to see the way their bodies moved together, but the sight of Charlie’s thick cock disappearing inside her again was almost too much.

  “Yeah, baby. Work for it. Take what you want.” Charlie egged her on in filthy whispers, his teeth grazing the shell of her ear. Was he mocking her, or was this a challenge? Dylan wanted to fire back, but all she could do was moan like an animal as another wave of pleasure rocked through her. God, she was on top, and he was still in control, here on her desk in her own office…

  Her body moved of its own accord. She rocked her hips against Charlie, flushed with need.

  Charlie cursed. His hand dropped from her hair to clutch at her back. His own shoulders were slick with perspiration. They moved together in sensuous union, Dylan’s head thrown back, Charlie’s back arched with pleasure. He picked up speed, and Dylan moved with him, and if she’d been thinking, she might have stifled her cries, but she couldn’t hold onto a thought long enough to hold herself back. Each panting breath burst from her lips unrestrained; each cry of ecstasy felt ripped from her throat. Charlie’s fist tightened in her tangled hair. She collapsed on top of him as he found his climax, his cock pounding into her fit to split her in two.

  “Every time you come to work,” Charlie whispered, as Dylan lay panting, “you’re going to remember how I had you. Right here. You’ll be in a meeting and you’ll remember how I fucked you, how you came like a freight train here on your desk.”

  Charlie squeezed her ass, as though to emphasize his point. Dylan moaned against him, still riding the aftershocks.

  “You’re mine,” Charlie said.

  “Yours,” she agreed. At least for tonight.

  Her breath returned slowly as Charlie stroked her hair. She could feel the sweat cooling on the back of her neck.

  “That was…” Dylan started to say.

  “Don’t even try. There are no words for it.”

  The room was dark, but Dylan could make out the glint in Charlie’s eyes, that same cocky sparkle that drove her so crazy. Seeing it now, it unraveled her in a whole new way. It made her feel seen, like Charlie had been studying her all along, learning her personality and her body, learning what she wanted one clue at a time. She’d gotten him wrong in her fantasies: he wasn’t a selfish lover at all. His easy confidence came from knowing he could please her. Knowing he’d paid attention, and he could make it pay off.

  She broke eye contact first, looking down as she shifted a bedraggled piece of hair back behind her ear. It was only the first of a million and one details out of place—any small oversight might betray what they’d done, and that was just the little things. As she gazed around the room, Dylan realized the full extent of the damage they had wrought. It looked like a tornado had blown through Lockhart Bend General and swept up her office specifically. Papers lay scattered on the floor, and the force from their session had knocked most of her desk drawers open. Articles of clothing were strewn everywhere. She doubted they would be able to recover them all without turning the lights on, but she was adamant they remain off. She didn’t want to give any passing observer the slightest indication of where she and Charlie Wild had disappeared to.

  Oh, God. How long had they been away from the fundraiser? Surely someone would have noticed by now. It felt like they had been at it for hours. Charlie could certainly boast of superhuman endurance both on and off the field.

  Charlie withdrew from her, and Dylan slid down off the desk. The room smelled sharply sweet, the office air heavy with another clue to their transgression. She cracked the window as Charlie pulled his slacks up. A cool evening breeze caressed her bare breasts, stirring her imagination—what it would be like to be cornered by Charlie outdoors on a starlit hillside…

  But there could be no next time. Could there? It was out of their systems now, except that it wasn’t. Sex like that was too good to let go.

  Good enough to get yourself fired? Because that’s what’ll happen.

  Sex like that was almost worth it. Charlie was almost worth it, and that’s what she was afraid of. What they’d just done felt like more than a hot hookup, and from the way Charlie was now avoiding her gaze, she was certain she wasn’t alone in her assessment. Somewhere along the way—between the arguing and flirting and pushing each other’s limits—her relationship with Charlie had shifted gears. It had just taken them gunning the gas to see it.

  She felt something brush up against her back and realized she had been standing in front of the slatted blinds for a solid minute, lost in thought. Charlie’s chest brushed up against her back. He had put his shirt back on, the fabric rough on her skin. He reached over her head to shutter the blinds.

  “Want help putting the room back together?” His breath ruffled her hair. Already, Dylan could feel her desire for him stirring again. This was bad. Surely she had more self-control than this.

  “All right,” she whispered. “But let’s…avoid turning the lights on and drawing attention.”

  Charlie’s hand stroked her shoulder. It was the most chaste touch he had laid on her all night, almost reverent. He should be familiar with her every slope and curve by now, but Dylan could have sworn he was touching her for the first time. She turned her head to lean her cheek on his hand, wanting to stretch the moment a little longer.

  “Let’s sneak out the back.” Charlie’s suggestive whisper sent chills down her spine. “Anyone asks, I’ll tell them I took you home. It won’t be a lie.”

  “It’s not lies I’m worried about,” Dylan muttered.

  “My knee held up, didn’t it?” Charlie moved back, and Dylan turned to find him grinning. He was obviously trying to lighten the mood. Dylan sighed and bent to retrieve her discarded dress.

  “Yes. It did. Congratulations.”

  “I’m not the only one that should be congratulated, Doctor. That was…”

  “Let’s save any discussion for tomorrow.” Dylan needed to get out ahead of this. She needed to break down every pro and con; she needed to curl up alone at home with a pint of ice cream and list every reason this was a one-time thing. She might even need to consider referring Charlie to someone else…In fact, she knew she should.

  But the things she should do weren’t coming as easily to her anymore.

  She dressed herself quickly as Charlie gathered up her papers and straightened them on her desk. When he took her hand, Dylan didn’t resist. She let him spirit her down the hallway and out the back door.

  8

  CHARLIE

  “You ever been up close and personal with one of these before?”

  Dylan poked up her head from behind the mare she was brushing, her expression a salty mix of annoyance and disbelief.

  “Yes, Charlie, I have seen a horse before. Up close. I’ve even ridden one, when I was a kid.”

  Charlie couldn’t help teasing. “The plastic horse outside the Galleria doesn’t count.”

  “Funny. Real funny. You just keep that up.”

  He smirked shamelessly from his perch on a hay bale. It had been his idea to invite Dylan out to Wildhorse Ranch on her next day off, but Trevor had caught wind of it and tried to nix his plan—what would a long ride do to his knee? Not to mention readying the horses and all that time on his feet. In the end, they’d reached a compromise, embarrassing as it was.

  Pete the ranch hand came up behind Dylan, reaching past her to help secure her saddle. Charlie bristled at his closeness, but this was the deal: Pete would do all the heavy lifting. If Charlie tried to horn in, he’d report back to Trevor, and there’d be hell to pay.

  “Gotta cinch it tight,” said Pete. “But not too tight. Slide your finger in there, under the strap. If it goes past the first joint, it’s not tight enough. If you can’t get it in, it’s too tight. It’ll pinch.”

  “She’s got it,” said Charlie, and Dylan shot him a look. He met her eyes steadily, unashamed. Hell, yeah, he was jealous. Who wouldn’t be? Had she seen herself lately? Even the breeze made him jealous when it toyed with her hair.

  “Okay,” said Pete. “That’ll about do it. You need me to ride with you, or—”

  “I’m taking the Oldsmobile,” snapped Charlie, then took a deep breath. “Thanks, man. We’re good here. You can go on.”

  Pete fed Dylan’s mare a sugar cube and went on his way. Charlie rose on his crutches and clumped over to Dylan. She frowned at him.

  “The Oldsmobile? I thought you had a trail buggy.”

  “That’s it,” he said. “We call it the Oldsmobile because old folks ride it. And me, I guess, to avoid wear and tear on my knee.” He pulled a face, but Dylan rewarded him with a smile. She patted his arm, and his humiliation was almost worth it.

  “Good to see you finally taking care of yourself. And without me nagging you—that’s a big step.”

  Charlie chose not to tell her Trevor had nagged for her. He helped Dylan mount up and led her out of the barn before hopping onto the trail buggy waiting outside. When he started rolling, Dylan didn’t follow. She sat scowling on Peggy, flicking her reins.

  “Uh, how do I start her? She isn’t, ah—”

  “Give her a cluck, you know, like this.” He clucked his tongue and Peggy started walking, easily catching up to the slow-moving buggy. Despite her rough start, Charlie could see Dylan had ridden before. English-style lessons, maybe, although that was something for Trevor to divine later during a more official lesson.

  They headed up the widest and shortest of Wildhorse Ranch’s many trails—a favorite of Charlie’s, despite its lack of challenge. It led up a shaded hillside to a bright overlook, the whole of Lockhart Bend spread out below. Charlie knew Dylan hadn’t seen the town from that angle, and he was willing to bet she’d enjoy the view. He always had, at least, ever since he was small.

  “Hey, Dylan?” He raised his voice slightly, over the buggy’s low purr.

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you always want to be a doctor?”

  She pursed her lips slightly, considering the question. “Not always,” she said. “But once I figured it out, I knew it was right.” A chuckle escaped her. “You’re not going to believe it, but there was a time I wanted to be a cheerleader.”

  “I’d believe that,” said Charlie. “Saw you checking them out in the skybox the first night we met.”

  Dylan made a tchah sound. “What else could I do up there, besides stand around like a fool? Thanks for inviting me along and forgetting all about me, by the way. I don’t think I ever made you feel sorry for that.”

  “You sent me to PT,” he reminded her. “I couldn’t figure out what the hell you had against me, putting me through that kind of torture. Now I know you were just jealous.”

  Dylan made a noise in her throat, half-amused, half-dismissive. He saw the fire spark in her eyes before it ignited her to action. All at once, she flicked her reins and pressed forward in her saddle. Peggy took off, leaving Charlie to choke on her dust.

  “Dylan!” he called after her. “You really sure you want to do that?”

  “No!” she shouted over her shoulder. “Holy shit, Charlie! How do you stop this thing?”

  “What did I say? Plastic horse outside the Galleria,” Charlie muttered as he gave the buggy some gas. Thankfully, Peggy knew an amateur rider when she felt one. The moment Dylan gave up the reins to hang off the saddle horn, she slowed to a trot and then to a walk. She moseyed on up the hill, all the way to the top, where she stopped to crop the grass at the edge of the trail. Charlie pulled up the buggy and put it in park. He handed Dylan down from Peggy, and she stumbled, off-balance.

  “Whoa!” she said as she fell into him, laughing. Charlie’s knee gave a twinge, but he grinned and bore it.