Raji practically sprinted into the little cabin in Taos, New Mexico with her rolling suitcase dragging behind her. Late spring sunlight shone in the windows. Desert dust filmed the glass on the outside, making everything glow with a golden aura.
She wouldn’t think about it, wouldn’t think about it, wouldn’t think about it.
Not at all.
Because if she did, she might fall apart.
She was here with Peyton now, and she didn’t have to think about the twenty-one-year-old girl who had died on her table yesterday. The girl had a congenital heart condition and had been too long on the transplant list, until her condition had become suddenly, catastrophically worse.
A heart was assigned, but it came too late.
Nope.
Raji called out, her voice ringing off the textured plaster walls. “Peyton? Are you here yet?”
A growl beside her.
The door slammed shut, blocking the hot desert breeze.
Hands grabbed her waist and tossed her toward the high ceiling, and she spun in the air. She landed on Peyton’s wide shoulder, and he walked with her head dangling as she laughed. His cologne—herbs like sage and rosemary and a whiff of clean lemon—drifted from his blue tee shirt right in front of her nose.
He threw her on the bed, stripped her summer shorts and tee shirt off, and landed on her, kissing her hard. He scrambled to grab her wrists and pin them over her head on the soft mattress.
When they were together, Peyton fucked Raji any time, any where, any way he wanted to. Sometimes he packed her with lube and fucked her hard until she came with his cock in her ass. Sometimes, when they were sitting around the hotel room, he commanded her down on her knees, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and fucked her face until he throbbed on her tongue and spilled down her throat. Sometimes he fucked her pussy from behind, from on top of her, with her astride him, or any other position he chose.
When they were together, Raji became a body to be done to, flesh and blood and bone and desire, without any thought of refusal in her head, without an ache in her heart, without the heaviness of guilt or responsibility pressing on her soul.
She hated leaving him and going back to work.