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His hand traveled across her hip and found the space between them, found the loosely tied drawstring of her own scrub pants and pulled it free.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his fingers slipping behind the waistband of both the pants and what lay beneath, skin on skin as his erection strained against his boxer briefs.

“Yes,” she whispered, her breath hitching as he slid between her folds, one finger sinking deep inside.

Beth whimpered, and when she called out his name—not her teasing or angrily aloof Doctor Murphy but Eli—he swore. She enveloped him in warmth and wonder. All he wanted to do was explore, yet he found himself without a map, without any sort of familiarity to aid in his navigation.

He kissed her hard, and she grabbed his wrist, then her hand moved so her palm fell atop his, guiding his movement, his speed…showing him what she liked.

“Fuck, that is sexy,” he growled. “Show me more. Please.”

She kissed him, nipped at his bottom lip, and then urged his hand out slowly…so goddamn slowly, until the tip of his slick finger slid over her swollen center.

She cried out, her hand tightening around his wrist as she arched against him.

“More,” she pleaded, and this time he knew what to do, knew the pace that kept her right at the edge, knew that he could continue like this for the rest of the afternoon and well into the night if she’d let him.

He propped himself on his elbow as his hand continued to work, patiently, methodically. He watched her chest rise and fall with each inhale and exhale, listened to each soft hum, the occasional sharp intake of breath as he took pleasure in small surprises he was able to pull off by a change in tempo, direction, or holding back on the promise of a touch to tease her closer to the brink.

“Eli,” she pleaded as he traced a circle around her sensitive core. She writhed and gripped his arm tighter, her fingernails digging into his skin. “More. Please.”

She pressed a firm hand over his thin cotton pants—another plea—and for a second, he froze.

Finish this, a voice in his head urged.

So he did.

Beth wanted more, so he gave her more, gave her everything he could with the touch of his hand, his lips on hers.

He savored the sweet taste of vanilla and mint—tea she’d had with breakfast? Something she wore on her lips? Eli wasn’t sure, but it might have been the best thing he’d tasted in months. All he knew was that for the time being—however short-lived—he’d indulge his senses in all things her.

He watched in rapt wonder as she fell apart, her fists clenching the bed linens and his palm between her legs.

Her lips parted in a smile, and once she came back to herself, her legs fell open, lazy and free and still trusting the man with his hand inside her.

He slid his fingers free, and she gasped, then broke into a blissful-sounding laugh.

“I can’t remember…” she started. “I mean, that was…” Her eyes fluttered open and locked on his. “If that’s you out of practice, we might have to soundproof this place once you consider yourself fully back in the game.” She pushed herself up on one elbow and yanked the knotted string of his scrubs, but it wouldn’t budge. She pouted. “A little help here?” she teased. “It’s your turn, Dr. Murphy.”

His turn. Jesus, what was he doing?

Eli suddenly found it hard to breathe.

“I’m—sorry.” He climbed off the bed.

Beth stared at him in…disbelief? Horror? Another version of the anger or resentment she’d borne all week? He didn’t know, and he didn’t blame her. But also, it didn’t matter.

Eli was already back in his boots and out of the room, his pace quickening as he strode toward the door.

He barely remembered walking through the clinic again and into the small home he and Tess had built off the back. He was already naked and in the shower, the bathroom filling with steam as his forehead fell against the cool tile, the hot water beating down on his back.

Eli stroked himself from root to tip, a painful growl rising up and tearing from his lungs.

He didn’t deserve to want, not when he’d already had—and lost—what some spent entire lifetimes trying to find.

You’re still young, your whole life ahead of you. You’re going to spend it pining for a woman and her horse who only ever wanted you to be happy?

Tess’s laugh rang out in his head along with the imagined accusation.