He’s certifiably crazy. Through gritted teeth, I warn, “I don’t like repeating myself and I won’t press charges if you leave. Now.” His smile disappears. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, pull your gun.” I close my eyes in frustration and then realize what I’ve done and open them again. My gun isn’t the problem; his damned guns aka ripped arms, are. No one involved in crime should have a body like Moon’s. His cologne drifts over me and I inhale deeply. Somehow he’s found that perfect match that accents his natural man-smell. Add in his blue eyes, which capture everything going on around him, and I’m having heart palpitations that have nothing to do with my apartment being broken into. I pull in another long breath to gain a small semblance of control. I’m unwilling to stand and point a damn gun at him now, and that pisses me off. He removes his cell from his pocket, backs a couple of feet away, and speaks to whoever’s on the other end. “Order for two from El Tiempo and pick

I stare at the dark television for ten minutes. This solves nothing. I check the sliding glass door that leads to my very small patio. It has a broken broomstick in the bottom rail so it can only slide open after removing it. The locking mechanism, which I check too, is a piece of crap. I head to the front door and lock it. I walk to my bedroom to go through my pre-sleep ritual. After a quick shower, I slip into one of my large shapeless tees. Brushing, flossing and moisturizer are next. I lie down in bed and turn off the lamp. When I close my eyes, I picture Moon—his reticent smile, his intense eyes, and his sexy as hell bod. My girl parts are ramped up and it’s all Moon’s fault. With a groan, I roll over and grab the purple wonder from the drawer beside my bed. I hit the switch and then lift and spread my knees. I place the vibration against my clit. The purple wonder twirls and vibrates, hitting the spot perfectly. I slide it through my folds and back to my clit while imagining Mo

Moon has pulled me so close that his face is inches from mine. “I locked it after I opened the door so it auto locks and I don’t have a key,” I say on a slow breath. “I have a key. Christ, you smell so good,” he murmurs and runs his nose across my cheek. I would tell him the same thing, but the information about him having my key stops me cold. “You made copies of my keys?” I knew he must have, I just didn’t expect him to admit it. His hand glides down my body until he cups my ass. He ignores my question. “I just needed to see you for a moment and do this…” His lips crash down on mine. He isn’t gentle. I forget about the keys. Hell, I forget that I’m outside in my short shorts. The kiss is hungry and wet, dominating and sexual. He tastes so damn good. He backs off and runs his tongue across my lips. “I’ve fantasized for the past two nights about you, like this.” He deepens the kiss. His tongue slips around mine and I moan. He pulls me closer and presses his erection into my lower

“Madison?” Moon asks groggily. Relief swamps me and I try not to cry. This does no good and tears of relief fall from my eyes. “I’m hurt,” is all I can manage to say and even that’s shaky. “Shh,” Moon whispers. His voice is my lifeline and I only cry harder. “Where are you?” Another round of trembling hits me. I suck air into my lungs and try to control myself enough to speak. “Between Payson and Heber…” My teeth continue to chatter and once again, I breathe. “I’m about a hundred yards down the side of the mountain.” “Jesus.” I hear movement and then my eyes jump left and right in case whoever did this has decided to come after me. “How bad are you hurt?” he finally asks. The words are filled with concern, though I can hear the suppressed anger behind them. I concentrate on Moon’s question and manage to speak coherently. “Bleeding. It’s a head wound. I went over right after the second s-turn about fifteen minutes or so outside of Payson.” His voice changes from concern to deadl

Moon steps back and a middle-aged man with compassionate brown eyes bends over me. I try to look around him to Moon. The man smiles and I forget about Moon. The doctor’s hair is mostly gray and his smile is genuine. “Miss Kinlock, I’m Dr. Santos. Please call me Carlo.” He begins explaining what he needs to do. I’m only half following. The sound of his voice is putting me to sleep. He performs each part of his exam and repeats what and why he’s doing what he’s doing. He shines a light in my eyes and I close them. “I need you to look into the light, Miss Kinlock.” His voice is soft and coaxing. I squint trying to do what he says. I want to please him. It’s an odd sensation because I’m not fond of doctors. I put up with their curt bedside manner through multiple surgeries on my shoulder. I’ve had enough of doctors to last me a lifetime. He puts the light down and has me roll to my side facing away from him. He places his fingers on the base of my skull and manipulates the vertebrae dow