Dream Ivan wasn’t fast. He went slow and gentle, making sure he paid attention to every need and—
“So it is.” Dr. Randall’s deep voice put an end to the mental pictures Cera was unable to keep from forming. “Let me check my calendar and see what I have available.”
With a strangled, “Okay”, she drew in a silent, cleansing breath and released it slowly.
Good lord, woman. Would you get ahold of yourself? It. Was. Just. A. Dream.
A glorious dream, followed by this morning’s especially long shower. One that included a self-induced orgasm which did little to ease the ache left by that damn dream.
It’s not the dream making you ache with desire. It’s him.
Cera had to physically work not to growl at that damn incessant voice in her head. Okay, fine. Ivan Petrov was a good-looking man. She would have to be blind not to notice.
But it didn’tmatter.
Even if she wasn’t hiding from a deranged lunatic—which she was, and even if they hadn’t met with her looking like she’d been living on the streets—which she had, a man like Ivan would never get involved with a woman like her. Not with all the bullshit going on in her life.
Certainly not once he learned about her past. No one ever stuck around once they realized who she was and what she’d done.
It was the reason she’d stopped trying to date, even before her stalker’s debut appearance. There wasn’t a man with shoulders broad enough to carry the baggage she’d bring into a relationship.
Not even the sexy blond who’d come to her rescue when she’d needed it most.
He probably already knows all about you by now.
Ignoring the inevitability of that happening, Cera looked at her watch again and wondered when she’d hear from the private-eye sidekick. From the way he’d talked last night, she expected him any time.
“Same day next month work for you?”
“Sure!” Had that sounded too cheery? She thought maybe it had.
“Okay, Cera. I’ve got you down on the calendar,” Dr. Randall informed her. “As you know, you can always call the office or message me through your patient portal if you need anything between now and then.”
“Thanks, Dr. Randall.”
“Take care of yourself, Cera.” His deep, caring voice softened slightly.
“You, too. Bye.”
Cera lost the smile the man couldn’t even see as she tossed the phone onto the cushion beside her. What the hell was wrong with her?
Ivan. He’s what was wrong.
In all the right ways.
“Gah!” Cera pushed herself to her feet. What the heck was her problem?
She spends a few hours with a man she didn’t know—while in the midst of a traumatic event, mind you—and suddenly he was all she could think of?
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that it’s been over a year since you last had sex. Just a thought, though.
Teeth clenched, she stormed into the kitchen. As if an overpriced bottle of water was going to clear things up.
So she hadn’t had sex for over a year. So what? It wasn’t like she couldn’t get herself off if the urge arose. This morning was proof of that.
Yeah, but when was the last time you felt an urge as strong as the one you’re feeling now?
Twisting the blue lid from the fancy bottle, Cera put the rim to her lips and chugged. The ice-cold water eased the bit of scratchiness present from the coughing she’d experienced minutes before.