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My breathing is so rough it feels like sand in the back of my throat. ‘The least you can do is even up the playing field.’

His gaze returns to my face as he shakes his head. ‘No way, Doc. I want to be inside you too fucking much to take my jeans off without a condom in sight.’

I am both crushingly disappointed and incredibly empowered by his admission of barely restrained desire. The thought undulates through my belly, and I arch a little and squirm to relieve the sudden contraction. A low kind of whimper slips from my lips, and he sucks in a breath.

‘You want it too, don’t you?’

I want him inside me more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I nod my head, surprisingly not embarrassed to admit my need is as desperate as his.

‘You want me to fuck you?’

I exhale a shaky breath. ‘Yes.’

‘You want to feel my cock sliding into you?’ His voice is as husky as mine.

God, yes. I want him filling me up. ‘Yes.’ I press my thighs together as his words stroke like fingers against my clitoris.

‘Fuck.’ Danny groans as his head thunks back against the wall. He regards me with half-closed lids, as if he’s trying to figure out how he can make it work. He glances down into Bob’s tool bag. ‘There’s not a condom in there. Trust me, I looked. Although there are plenty of dick substitutes. Who needs sex shops when you have a tool bag?’

My breath catches at the thought of Danny pulling out some kind of phallic tool and using it on me. My eyes widen at such a shocking thought, and I press my thighs together harder as I scrub it from my mind.

But Danny has already heard that catch. How could he not? It’s silent in the elevator, apart from the odd creak and our heavy breathing. His gaze zeroes in on mine like a heatseeking missile, suddenly intense. Did it get stuffier in here all of a sudden, or has my breathing become so syrupy it’s clogging my airways?

He raises his eyebrow slightly. ‘Ahhh…’

He drops his gaze to the pile of items he pulled from Bob’s bag earlier. His fingers search through it and I follow the action. ‘There is this.’

My heart trips in my chest as Danny holds up a screwdriver, still in its packaging. It has a large, black, bulbous handle, decorated with long grooves – for better grip, I suppose. It’s not as big or thick as what Danny’s packing in those jeans, but it’s a close second.

The sound of plastic tearing streaks through my abdomen like a bolt of lightning, and my eyes are drawn to the tool Danny is holding in his hands. He grips it around the shiny, metallic shaft, but it’s the handle that has his attention.

And mine.

‘Ridged for her pleasure.’ He smiles as he lets it fall into the palm of his opposite hand. I can tell from the dull thud it has some weight to it, and things get a little wetter between my legs.

‘So, Doc.’ His gaze returns to mine. ‘Can you handle a screwdriver?’

My words from earlier – dear God, was it only a few hours ago? – come back to haunt me. ‘I—’ Whatever I’m about to say gets stuck in my throat. I’m torn between rejection of such an act and utter fascination.

‘Want me to show you what you’ve been missing out on in the dildo department?’Thud. ‘Think of it as a try-before-you-buy experience.’Thud. ‘I’ll be gentle. I promise.’ He mimics my words again as the thudding of the handle mimics my heartbeat.

How can I be so appalled and yet so freaking turned on by what Danny’s proposing? I’ve never done anything so outrageous. I work in an ER. How many cases of sexual misadventure have I doctored to?

‘Come on, Holly.’ His voice is a virtual whisper now. ‘Live a little. Say yes.’

My name on his lips shivers down my spine, and it sounds so damn good, I’d grant him just about anything in this moment. Just about. ‘And risk ending up in my own emergency department with a screwdriver stuck up my vagina?’ I’d never live that down. ‘Pass.’

But I am seriously tempted.

‘Okay.’ He chuckles, low and slow, clearly amused by the prospect. ‘As you wish.’

I’m simultaneously relieved and disappointed that he’s not going to push a little, but not for long as he displaces the tool bag from his lap and once again prowls towards me, still in possession of the screwdriver. He is panther-like, his tattoosswaying and dancing seductively as his muscles move beneath his flesh.

He stops as he draws close and I’m surprised the entire elevator isn’t vibrating to the pound of my heart as he unfurls himself from all fours to settle on his side next to me.

Danny’s body presses along the length of mine as he props his head up with one hand and holds the screwdriver in the other, his gaze fanning over my face. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispers, and even though I’ve never felt beautiful thanks to my cosmetic-surgeon-in-the-making ex – who delighted in pointing out how he’d be able to correct all my flaws once he was qualified – the way he’s looking at me right now, I feel it.

He makes me feel it.