Treasure You: An Erotic Romance

By Coyote Rose

When Dr. Saul Cole sees Jordan Hill by chance on a busy street, it’s love at first sight. And when he sees her get hit by a car seconds later, his heart shatters. It feels like she’s been swept away before he could even know her.

Jordan is precious, a light in his otherwise dull world. He will do anything at all to protect her – even if that means killing to keep her safe.

This story contains insta-love. It also contains one hot doctor and the woman he wants more than anything on earth.

Genre: Erotic Romance

Length: 20,000 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: ButtonFly Books
• Release date: Apr 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513025179

Book preview

TREASURE YOU

SAUL

I see her there on the next street, just past the lamppost. I’m in my car, she’s on a red bicycle at the intersection.

She’s fucking amazing. She needs to be mine.

Her long dark hair is absolutely beautiful, and I want to wrap my fists in it, feel her pull and then submit as I plunge my cock into her supple little body. Feel her wrap those long legs around my hips and invite me into her. God, the noises she’ll make. The hot sweat of her skin mingling with mine. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with my instant erection.

Her jeans hug the sweet curve of her thighs. They are truly lovely thighs, and I wonder just how wide they’ll stretch to allow me entrance. I wonder how wet she’ll be once I dip a finger, then two, into her. I wonder if I can make her scream with pleasure before I even fuck her.

I bet I can.

I bet I can coax her body into submission and then love her the way I want to love her. I bet she’ll let me have her, body and soul.

If I’m good to her.

If I love her well enough.

If I can make her fall in love with me, I can have her.

The car comes from nowhere, screeching through the intersection. She’s in the way, my mind registers that much, and then I’m out of the car and moving.

I need to get to her.

Need to help her.

Need to save her.

She could die. I see the fender of the car clip her front tire. The bike crumples away. Like it’s made of paper. She’s gone, but then she’s not – I see her yellow sweater, then her, laying on the edge of the sidewalk, her hair spread out in the grit of the road. I’m there, pushing through the shocked clutch of people. They’re just standing there, looking. Not helping her.

She moves, and I almost yell with relief. My knees hit the ground and I’m here, cradling her head. She doesn’t open her eyes, but she’s breathing and moaning. Good signs.

It’s OK, I murmur into her ear. I’m a doctor.

JORDAN

Get out of my way!"

I hear the roar of words, but the red haze of pain is too great for me to focus. It emanates from my legs, blossoming into a mushroom cloud of agony that envelops my pelvis and belly. I close my eyes and moan, because I can’t help it. I think I’m dying.

Then strong arms are lifting me out of the tangle of my bike. I don’t open my eyes.

It’s OK, a deep voice murmurs into my hair. I’m a doctor.

I lift my lids to see a man carrying me. He looks like he has Italian blood, all dark and broody. I don’t know where we’re going. He’s super-model sexy, but then aren’t all doctors? Don’t they have money and prestige and...?

I scream as someone jostles too close and touches my ankle, confirming to me that I’ve broken something. Well, not me. I didn’t break it. I was just riding to work – more like the driver who hit me with his car. A red Mustang, I remember. I can still see the glint of chrome as it flashed. He was going way too fast.

Pain hits again. My body doubles in the stranger’s arms and he almost drops me.

Careful, he says, his warm, rumbling voice wiggling in to soothe something deep inside of me. Not the pain, no, but something else, something I didn’t even know was there. I can’t concentrate on it, though. I just hang onto his broad shoulder and try to hold still.

I really want to pass out. I’ve never wanted that before – most people don’t – but right now I’d give a million dollars and a flying fuck if I could just sink into oblivion.

Someone else moves too close and I scream again, burying my head into his hard chest.

Get the fuck out of my way, he growls at them, and I feel him speed up so I hang on that much tighter and close my eyes again.

I’m taking you to the hospital, he says into my ear. Mine.

I shiver at that last word, because it conjures something dark inside of me, something that I don’t care to name right now. His? His what? His hospital? Or is he saying that I’m his, claiming me for himself? I can only nod as nausea grips my belly and I fight to keep from doing something gross all over the front of his soft cotton shirt. That would be embarrassing, I think, before the pain surges again and I almost lose it anyway.

Then he’s settling me into the seat of a car, the leather hot on the backs of my bare legs. My long dark hair tangles around my face, and he brushes it away gently before reaching to recline the seat.

There. That should feel a little better. Don’t move.

I don’t want to move. I want to sink into the buttery warm seat and pass out. My spine is vibrating with agony.

Did you hit your head? he asks.

I squint. Try to focus on him again. Don’t think so, I answer. My tongue feels thick and hot in my mouth, so I swallow. I’m thirsty, too.

But God, he’s sexy. Part of my brain is ignoring the agony of my injury and focusing solely on him. My eyes follow him as he moves. How can I be hurting this bad and still feeling all...breathless, over some random guy?

He’s not some random guy, though, my mind tells me,