“I don’t want to hurt you.” He could barely get the words out, he was holding on by a thread.

“You’re not … Don’t stop. Oh, God, just don’t stop.” She made another little orbit with her hips and Aidan lost whatever little bit of restraint he had. Her arms were around his neck, tight enough to suffocate him, and he didn’t care. Holding on, he began to move with her.

She gasped his name—he fucking loved that—and smiled at him. He loved that, too, and in less than two seconds he was breathing like a dying man. And he was dying. Of pleasure. He ran every day in full gear. He shouldn’t be out of breath from having a woman ride him like a bronco.

But it wasn’t the exertion.

It was all her. How many nights had he spent over the years fantasizing about this, with her, and he’d never once come close to the reality of being buried deep inside her.

They moved together like they’d been made for this, their bodies perfectly in sync. No awkwardness, no hoping that she was as far gone as he.

She wasn’t only right there with him, she’d somehow climbed inside him.

Snugging her thighs to his hips, she held him close, her hands roaming his chest, arms and back, sometimes sliding up into his hair to grip him tight, her breathing quick and shallow, her cheeks flushed with desire as she met his gaze, never looking away.

He felt like he could see all the way into her, a glimpse of the woman she so often hid. And she was so damn beautiful she made his throat ache.

They stared at each other as they moved, and when he slid a hand between their bodies and touched her, just slid his thumb across her center, she whispered “yes …” and began to come, her head falling back, her body clenching around him as she cried out his name again.

She was lost in him, and knowing he’d gotten her there made him feel about ten feet tall. It also made him come right along with her, and he pulled her down over him so he could bury his face in the curve of her neck as he let go of everything but this.

When his sanity returned he knew he was doomed. Just as he knew the truth.

He didn’t have one ounce of control over what was happening between them.

He knew eventually he’d be forced to move on when she left town, but he’d done it once. He could do it again. Probably.

From somewhere outside the hot tub he heard his phone beep. He hoped like hell it wasn’t any sort of emergency because he didn’t think he could get up to look. Fact was, he wasn’t all that sure he still had legs. At least he wasn’t on call tonight …

“Aidan.” Lily stirred. “Your phone—”

“I’m not on call tonight. Ignore it.”

“Hmm.” She ran a finger down his chest, past his abs, and south. “Like I’m supposed to be ignoring this?” She wrapped her fingers around him and stroked.

“Jesus, Lily.”

“Nope. Just me.”

He choked out a laugh and managed to get them both out of the tub and lay her on his lounge chair, where he stopped to take one long look at her spread out all wet and gleaming and naked.

Then he made himself at home between her legs.

“Again?” she whispered hopefully.

“Again,” he said, and followed through on the only promise she was ready for him to make.

Long before Lily’s heart rate made its way back to normal, her purse began vibrating like it was having a seizure. “My cell phone,” she said lazily.

“Let it go.”

She bit her lower lip. She wasn’t good at letting things go. It went against the grain. But she didn’t make a move for her phone.

Aidan gave her a smile that said he was going to reward her and yanked her into him just as her phone went off again.

For a beat she just dropped her head to his chest, but then she imagined all that could be wrong if someone was calling twice in a row. Maybe her mom, with an emergency. With reluctance she pushed away from Aidan and climbed off the lounge.

When she bent for her purse, he let out a rough sound of pure male appreciation behind her.

“Nice view,” he said.

She looked down at herself. Completely naked. She’d actually forgotten. She’d never forgotten before. She supposed that meant she was comfortable with him, shockingly so. Dripping water everywhere, she pawed through her purse and grabbed her phone. Jonathan. “Hey,” she said into the phone.

“I need you at the salon. We have an emergency.”

“An emergency?”

Aidan stood up, eyes sharp, reaching for his pants.

“What is it?” she asked Jonathan. “Did you call nine-one-one?”

“Not that kind of emergency. We’ve got a reality star up here. She sneaked away for the weekend to slum it in the Rockies with someone from her show. Unfortunately that someone isn’t her husband. They were playing some waxing game and she messed up her hair.”

“And you can’t fix it?”

“Yeah, I’m not talking about the hair on her head,” he said.

“Oh.” She winced. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” She disconnected and looked at Aidan. “I’ve gotta go.”

“What is it? I can call dispatch on our way.”

“It’s a hair emergency.”

He stopped cold and looked completely baffled. “There’s such a thing as a hair emergency?” he asked. “How about I claim to have a hair emergency too?”

“Actually it’s more of a waxing emergency,” she said.

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