Fight For Me Read Online Free

Why was it important? He wasn't taking any jobs,
but that didn't mean he couldn't look. Feeling her stare, he lifted
his gaze to meet hers, and saw concern mixed with something else in
her eyes. “Did you need me to be doin' somethin' else?”
    Her eyes widened briefly, and he wondered
where her thoughts had gone. “ No, but you're
supposed to be healing.” She looked at the grandfather clock
against the wall. “We have to get you to therapy in about an hour
anyway.”
    God, how he hated that word. “ Don't call it therapy, Cassie. Call it PT, or physical therapy if you must, but not therapy.”
    S he studied him for a
moment and he wished he knew what was running through that quick
mind of hers. Before he could ask her, she gave him a tight smile
and fled the room, “PT it is,” tossed at him over her
shoulder.
    H e watched her go, a soft
chuckle making its way from his chest. His little prosecutor was
nervous around him, had been running away from him for the better
part of a week. After the mind-blowing hallway kisses followed
closely by dressing him like a life-sized CEO doll, she had been
careful not to touch him, but he caught the heat, the longing in
her eyes when she thought he wasn't looking. He had news for her:
He was always looking.
    ~*~
    Cassidy scrambled to her
home office and collapsed into her chair. She'd almost blurted that
she most certainly needed him to be doing something else—her! She
smacked herself in the forehead. She had to stop this.
S he wanted to take him apart and put him
back together again, she wanted to find out what made up this dark,
brooding man who could melt her with a look. It wasn't her place to
figure him out, or jump him, or do anything but help him recover.
She needed to get him well, get him out of her house, get him back
home to the other side of Aylesford in the woods.
    S he balanced her head in
her hands. God, what had possessed her to bring him home with her?
She was slowly going insane with sexual frustration with him under
her roof day and night, existing in all his muscled gorgeousness.
She knew he would be happy to help her work out her frustrations
and that made it worse. He wanted her, he'd proven that—he'd kissed
the living hell out of her—and all she had to do was ask for it.
She closed the door on that thought. No. She wasn't going down that
road. Therapy, physical therapy, that was the only thing physical
she was doing with him.
    A n old Olivia Newton John
song popped in her head and she laughed at herself. No, she swore
she wasn't getting physical with him, not in reality, at least. In
her dreams she could do anything, and he wasn't in pain. She held
back a moan at the thoughts tumbling through her mind. Good Lord,
how was she going to handle this for another month or more? She had
given her word and offered her home, and she was a woman of her
word. She just hoped that word wouldn't kill her.
    ~ *~
    “ You're doing well, Mr.
Black. A little more.” She put him through a series of exercises
meant to tone and elongate the muscles. “Just one more, sir, and
then you're done,” the small woman coaxed.
    “ Call me Dylan. I figure
if you can torture me three times a week, you should call me by
name,” he said through a thready laugh.
    H aleigh Carlisle looked
up, almost meeting his eyes with her dark blue ones. “It's not
torture, Mr... Dylan.” She looked away, a blush creeping up her
pale throat. “It's therapy.”
    T here was that word again.
“Let's call it anything beside therapy. I'm not tellin' you my
innermost thoughts here, and it hurts like a,” he stopped himself
from saying what he wanted to, instead letting the sentence hang
awkwardly.
    H aleigh gave him a small
smile. “It's supposed to hurt. We just need to teach your arm how
to work correctly again.”
    I f only it were that easy.
He needed to get back into fighting shape in order to protect
Cassidy, and he knew he would have to protect Cassidy. “Doctor
Everett said six weeks of