Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: New Adult Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

Chapter Sixty-Seven

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I hear more rustling and plastic tearing, and then I feel his hand tug firmly at the collar of my shirt, pulling on it slightly. My body seizes involuntarily as the shirt gives way under his actions, exposing the very top of my breasts. My reflexes make me want to shield myself with my hands, but before I can follow through and react, he pushes the second thermometer into my left armpit.

"Don't let it fall," he says, and my heart almost bursts inside my chest at how commanding he sounds. "That goes for the one in your mouth as well," he adds firmly. Strangely enough, I let out an audible sigh of relief when he says, "Turn around."

And I don't hesitate to comply this time. While I'm not exactly thrilled to be having a foreign object going up my asshole, not having to look at him while it happens is a mercy I cannot pass up. I admit, having my back to him—and consequently, my guard down—isn't exactly the safest position to be in when dealing with a man like this. But on the bright side—which, I know doesn't even sound remotely sane given the circumstances, but hey, this is just me trying not to completely freak out here—at least I won't have to face the bastard or the evil grin I'm sure he'll be sporting while he shoves that funky-looking thermometer up my behind. And even more importantly, he won't be able to see my face.

With my eyes on barred window in front of me, I "hear" more than see him pick up the larger thermometer, but there are no rustling or tearing sounds. I try to brace myself for the impact—physically and mentally—but I don't think anything could have prepared me for this moment.

My brain goes into overdrive and my ass cheeks clench involuntarily when I feel his palm touch my lower back, his hand large and sure and possessive against me, his skin surprisingly warm, almost hot, the strength in his calloused fingers undeniable yet also strangely gentle as they graze my skin. My breath immediately catches in my throat without my permission, my heart accelerating at its own command, beating so ferociously in my chest that it rattles every single part of my shaky body. My fingers reflexively grip the sheets on the bed at the delicious contact, grabbing and squeezing palmfuls of the fabric until my knuckles turn almost as white as the cotton beneath them.

"Spread your legs," he says quietly, the edge in his voice returning, making him sound surprisingly menacing. Somehow, I can hear him clearly, even with the belligerent ringing in my ears and the sound of blood swishing around almost violently in my head.

My pussy jolts particularly hard at how both demanding and dangerous he now sounds, and I can't control the small puddle of wetness that leaves it. My vision goes slightly blurry for a moment as I feel a thin stream of hot liquid dribble down my thigh and meander to the back of my knee. I breathe out in a rush, as if my lungs can't expel the air inside them fast enough. My heart quickens again, palpitating and pumping with uneven, erratic beats, as if it's practicing for the fucking Olympics.

I reluctantly part my thighs after another moment's hesitation, feeling them tremble with so much force that I'm positive Frost can see them shaking as well. I force my eyes to remain as focused as they can be on the steel bars of the window while I gradually ease my legs apart, incrementally moving them away from each other as far as the restriction of my jeans will allow, and being as slow and inconspicuous about the action as I can. My breath catches in my throat when the air comes into contact with the moisture trickling down my legs, making me feel a distinct, cooling sensation on my inner thighs and all over my soaked pussy. I suck in another breath and squeeze my eyes shut, feeling a sharp, overwhelming pang of trepidation at the knowledge that he can clearly see that I'm wet.