Page 154 of Wicked Fantasies

“You did? He will?” She dropped down on the couch, surprise turning her legs to jelly. Damn man had thought of everything.

“I only have a few more sessions until I satisfy the stupid workman’s comp requirements anyway.”

“Oh, well…” She wasn’t sure what to say. A part of her was disappointed she wouldn’t be finishing up his sessions. He was her happy dose of eye candy. She’d actually looked forward to going to work on days when he had an appointment. Of course, if he wasn’t her patient, she didn’t have to worry about facing him the morning after what was certain to be a fiasco.

“Have you made your list?” he asked.

“No,” she replied.

“Get started on it. See you at seven.” He hung up without the customary goodbye. She was going to have to talk to him about his lack of phone manners.

Returning to the bathroom, she picked up theKama Sutraand studied the pictures again. She immediately found ten positions that pushed all her hot buttons just to look at. Then she pictured herself as the woman, with Ethan as the man.

Aw hell. She was so screwed.

In the end,Rachel settled for what she prayed Ethan would consider sexy. She’d pulled the tags off a skimpy little black dress she had hanging in the back of her closet and underneath she’d put on the only bra and panty set she owned. The concept of matching undergarments just seemed bizarre to her, but this set was new and completely impractical from a comfort standpoint. It was also sexy as hell. It pushed her breasts up and the panties were cut low and actually looked kind of hot on her.

She’d bought the entire outfit on a whim once after she’d seen Voldemort out and about with the blonde bitch, but she’d never had the nerve to wear it out of the house. It showed way too much of her figure, way too many inches of cleavage. There was a fine line between sexy and trashy and she was never quite sure where it was. A fashion expert she wasnot, despite the fact she never missed an episode ofWhat Not to Wear.

At seven o’clock on the dot, her doorbell rang. She took a deep breath as she opened the front door—awestruck by the sight of Ethan on her doorstep.

He was wearing new blue jeans and a dark green button-down shirt. He let out a catcall whistle and grinned. She felt herself blush at his appreciative look.

Then her gaze drifted down to enjoy every yummy inch of him, her eyes lingering on his muscular arms before taking in the image of his strong legs encased in the tight denim. His light chuckle forced her eyes back to his face.

“Are you going to invite me in or are we going to do this thing on the front porch?”

She rolled her eyes at his cocky tone. “I’m not so sure we’re going to do anythingat all.”

She closed the door as he walked past her, surprised when he turned and slowly pushed her forward, pressing her stomach against the wood and caging her in. She was completely surrounded by his body, his strength, and she shivered with desire when his lips brushed against her ear.

“Assume the position,” he said, his voice husky, deep, sexy as hell. “Or should I saypositions? We’re going to do so many things tonight, Rachel, you’ll need to keep a list to remember them all. Now are you going to play nice or do I need to whip out the handcuffs already?”

“You brought your handcuffs?” she asked breathlessly, the idea of being restrained one of her favorite fantasies.

He laughed softly. “Oh yeah, what kind of cop would I be if I traveled without them?”

His close proximity, the smell of his cologne, slowly eased her fears and she felt her inner minx emerging, ready to play. “What about your gun?” she asked. “Did you bring that too?” As she spoke she reached behind her, teasing his erection with her fingers to make her meaning clear.

He took her hand in his and pushed her palm firmly against the front placket of his jeans, letting her feel his undeniable arousal. “Oh yeah, baby. I brought the big gun tonight and believe me, it’s loaded and ready to roll.”

She wanted to giggle at his jest, but she couldn’t spare the breath as her body fought to draw in any air that wasn’t filled with his amazingly seductive scent.

He moved far enough away to turn her to face him. Once he had her in the position he wanted, he crowded her against the door and leaned down to kiss her.

She’d expected awkward conversation, a slow buildup, anything except the power of this moment. Ethan was kissing her, touching her with such need, such desire, she wanted to cry with the realization that she’d spent a lifetime without this feeling.

She pulled away for a second to suck in a breath. “God,” she panted. “Too much.”

“Not enough,” he muttered, gripping her head in his hands, claiming her lips once more.

She pulled him closer, her fingers digging into the material of his shirt. He deepened the kiss and she struggled to process everything that was happening to her. Her blood felt as if it were literally boiling.

This can’t be happening. Stuff like this doesn’t happen to me.

“Stop thinking,” he murmured against her lips. “Just let it happen.”

Let it happen. Let it happen.

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