“Hi, Dr. Jackson.” I grab his tie. “Did you need something from me?”
He steps back so he can look me over—from my cowboy boots to my skirt, up to my red knit sweater. “You’re fucking right I do.”
I release the button on his pants then slowly lower the zipper. “And do you need it stat?”
“How could you tell?” he asks, grinning against my mouth.
“Oh, you know, lots of experience.” I take him in my palm, and he lets out a low groan.
“But not nearly enough.” He kisses me harder, grinning the whole time, and I agree. I’ll never get enough of this man or tire of his smiling kisses. And maybe, just maybe, I needed all the wrongs to find the right kind of love.