“Did you look me up online?”

Another nod.

“What did you learn?” he asked, never looking away or breaking the gaze. The man radiated intensity. She could picture him in a boardroom, owning a negotiation. Winning all the points in his favor without breaking a sweat.

“What do you think I learned?” she tossed back.

“What the press says about me.”

“I don’t care what the press says,” she said firmly, and his gaze drifted down to her throat. He stared at the exposed skin peeking above the top button of her silk blouse. “What do you care about, then?”

“I want to know how you can be a sex toy mogul and have intimacy issues,” she said, reaching her hand to his chin and forcing him to look up again.

“Why should I tell you? I’m not your patient anymore,” he said, and there was teasing now in his tone. The toughness was drifting away.

“But that’s why you’re here. In this office. Needing a therapist.”

“And that’s why I’m seeing another shrink. For my intimacy issues,” he said with a scoff. “Besides, why does my job have any bearing on my life outside of the office? Are you the same person in here that you were with me last night? Or did you show me another side?” he said, and brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek.

Her eyes floated closed. Her breath fled, and one thing was clear. She wasn’t the same person.

She was a different woman with him. A wanted woman. And it felt so good, especially as his breath ghosted over her neck and he whispered in her ear, “Did you touch yourself when I was in there?”

“No,” she said.

“Not even a little?”

She shook her head, glad that her eyes were closed because surely they’d give away this lie. He reached for her hand, and brought it to his mouth, drawing her index finger between his lips. Her eyes snapped open.

“I bet this finger was between your legs,” he whispered, disarming her.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

“And I bet you didn’t finish the job.”

“I barely touched myself,” she admitted defensively, her skin heating up all over.

His eyes darkened, and he groaned appreciatively. “When you barely touched yourself, were you thinking about me?”

“Yes.”

“And were you thinking about me as your patient?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Were you thinking about me as New York’s most eligible bachelor?” he asked, and she could hear the disdain in his tone. He didn’t like those titles. She wouldn’t like them either.

“No.”

“Were you thinking of me as the man who wants to fuck you again?”

That was it. Her shoulders trembled, and lust took over. “Oh God,” she gasped, and her body was not her own. It was his, and she desperately wanted some kind of relief from the way she ached everywhere, desire pounding inside her, ready to escape.

“Because that’s who I want to be with you, Michelle with two Ls,” he said, loosening his tie further. Then he moved his hands to her knees. Moaning the second he made contact, she was almost embarrassed that this simplest kind of touch had her pulse racing.