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I nod, "Yes, pain relievers can help, but you'll need to rest as well. It might take a few days to recover."
Her displeasure is evident as she scrunches her nose, tilts her head, and takes a deep breath. I understand her frustration; I really do. But there's no magic cure, just time, rest, and maybe a bit of tenderness.
A tenderness I wish I could give but dare not offer. After all, I'm just her doctor, and she's just a patient. At least that's what I keep telling myself, over and over, hoping that with time, I'll believe it.
Chapter 3 - Kate
I am sprawled on the stretcher, staring in disbelief at the hospital’s white ceiling. I mean, a muscle strain, really? I've carried those damned coffee boxes a hundred times, maybe a thousand, and now my body chooses to betray me? Just my luck.
I feel the annoyance bubble up inside me, a familiar hot balloon of frustration and annoyance. It's not right or fair, and I want to scream at the injustice of it all. But the hot doctor in front of me, Liam, he's just doing his job.
His big, rough hands are merely a professional necessity, even if they're causing a whole new, entirely unprofessional sensation to flood through me.
Something akin to warmth spreads through my belly, even trickling down to my thighs. It's an entirely new feeling, and, for a moment, I'm taken aback.
Liam's hands are warm, solid, and so very strong. And then there's a thought, a wild, desperate thought. Those hands could easily pin me up against a wall and...
No, Kate, I admonish myself. He's your doctor. Nothing more. I take a deep breath and gather my resolve.
“Just prescribe me some pills, and I’ll try to rest, okay?”
Liam's reply is firm, almost domineering, and I can’t help but shiver at the raw, masculine authority.
"You can't try to rest. You must rest."
The excitement that shoots through me at his words surprises me, but not as much as the fact that I don't mind it. His voice, his presence, it's all too much, and I'm suddenly all too aware of my own desires.
Damn it, I want him; I want him bad. But it's just physical, purely physical. That's all it can be, because I, Kate, do not do love.
Swallowing my rising lust, I nod, acknowledging his words.
"Alright, doctor. I'll rest."
Then, there's that glint in his eyes, and my heart skips a beat. It could be excitement or perhaps lust. Or maybe it's just the fluorescent lighting. But I hope, I really do hope, it's not just the lighting.
But my rationality comes back with a vengeance. Stop it, Kate. I pull down my shirt hastily, resisting the urge to give him a peek. I've been alone for too long, and my impulses are getting the better of me. I need to get a grip.
Pain jolts up my side as I attempt to rise, making me wince. Before I know it, Liam’s hands are there again, steadying me, guiding me. His touch is firm and gentle, and once again, it sends a flurry of sensations down my spine.
"I'm sorry," he mutters, pulling back hastily. "I should've asked first before touching you again."
"It's okay," I reassure him, despite my body still buzzing from his touch. "I'd probably have asked you anyway."
That's a lie. I know I wouldn't have, not on my own. But I hope he doesn't realize that. I hope he believes me, and maybe, just maybe, he won't let me go.
And for a split second, I fantasize that he'll act like the leading man in one of those silly romance movies, pulling me close and pressing his lips to mine.
But this isn't a movie, and I'm not some naive heroine. I’m just Kate, a curvy coffee shop worker who doesn't believe in love. So, I reign in my fantasies, ignoring the desires smoldering in my chest, and reclaim my seat across the desk from Liam.
He's focused on writing out my prescription, brows furrowed in concentration. For a moment, I let my eyes wander over his rugged features, his neatly trimmed beard.
Everything about him screams masculinity. He's no polished prince of a fairy tale but more of a brawny, rugged lumberjack.
In my head, I paint him as the hero that saves me from danger, carrying me in his strong arms to his rustic cabin. A ludicrous fantasy, but one I can't shake off.
But reality quickly asserts itself. He's a dedicated doctor, one with probably a trail of women vying for his attention. What chance do I have?
As he hands me the prescription, our fingers brush, and a jolt of electricity shoots up my arm. My thighs rub together involuntarily, and I bite my lower lip, the pain momentarily forgotten in the rush of sudden sensation.
