And then, in his mind’s eye, he saw Erin walking through the swaying clumps of alfalfa. She wore a filmy, almost see-through dress that clung to the angles and curves of her slender body, giving him tantalizing glimpses of her taut nipples, the slender dip of her waist, and the fullness of her hips. And, just like that, the fly of his jeans was bulging. He didn’t need his sight to know that. His shaft, turned steely by desire, felt as if it were bent double within the confines of denim.

He sat straight up on the hay, which made the discomfort even worse. What the hell? Erin never wore sexy garments, so why had he imagined her in a dress that was the equivalent of daytime lingerie? I’m in big trouble, he decided. He couldn’t go on like this. Was it possible for a man to get a testicular infection from lack of sex? He’d never been told of such a thing, but his nuts felt as if somebody had been whacking them with a Ping-Pong paddle. If he didn’t start getting some physical release, he’d wake up surrounded by other men, his body in the throes of another wet dream, and he’d want to die of humiliation.

After six years of celibacy, he’d hit a brick wall. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that he’d waded into dangerous waters by wanting a woman he absolutely couldn’t have. If this kept up, his resolve to stay away from Erin might weaken. Was he really willing to risk so much just to slake his physical needs? He knew from hard experience that a profoundly deaf man could get into huge trouble if he sought release with a woman who, for whatever reason, had second thoughts at the last second. Another rape charge could land him in the pen. Or even worse, what if, because he couldn’t hear, he ended up doing Erin harm? A woman had a right to say no, and when she did, no matter what her reasons, a man should respect her wishes. Only there was a chance that Wyatt wouldn’t stop, not because he was a selfish, forceful bastard, but because he couldn’t hear that one, small word—no—even if a woman screamed it.

So exhausted it hurt to move, he maneuvered his way down from the tower of hay to ground level where there was at least faint moonlight coming in through the windows. With a deliberate stride, he headed for the personnel door and exited the building. After reaching a stand of trees just south of the creek, he stopped, tipped his head back to stare at the star-studded sky, and unzipped his pants.

A man didn’t need a woman to take care of his business. Desperate situations called for desperate measures, and though he’d never made a habit of it, he knew how to play Five-Fingered Stud. He just hoped there was no truth to the old wives’ tale that this activity could make a person go blind.