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But there’s nothing female about this man. He’s tall, at least six foot three, and broad across the shoulders. Suddenly, the small space feels absolutely tiny with him inside, and my insides go soft and loose. The black scruff on the lower half of his face is sexy and well-kept, and his hands are tanned. He’s not wearing a wedding band, I notice to my own shame.
Whoa. Calm down there, Olivia, I scold myself. You’re thinking about hitting on your doctor?
Incredibly, the handsome physician still hasn’t looked at me. He shrugs off his lab coat and I squirm in my seat as my eyes roam over his body, my hormones getting the best of me while I stare at this beautiful man. Despite the bagginess of his green scrubs, I can still see the outline of his broad shoulders and chest, the material stretching across his muscles. His biceps are defined, flexing as he takes his coat off and lays it over a random chair in the room. I try my best not to look below his belt, but I find it incredibly hard to do so. Is he as gorgeous down there as his face and body are? Oh god, what have I become?
But then, the man turns, probably because I haven’t uttered a word. He looks at me from over his shoulder, and those piercing blue eyes slam into mine. I almost gasp at their sheer azure color. They’re electric, not to mention enticing and seductive as they prowl down the length of my body. Now, I know I have his attention.
After all, I’m a curvy girl and if big tits and a big ass are what you like, then I’m your type. Evidently, I’m Dr. Monroe’s type because his eyes linger on my enormous breasts and tiny waist, his tongue darting from his mouth to moisten his lips. He looks at me with such an intense hunger and passion that I almost fall off the bed at the intensity of his gaze.
But he doesn’t apologize for being forward. Instead, the doctor smirks at me. It’s just a small smile, but it makes my heart do somersaults in my chest and the butterflies in my stomach go wild.
“You must be Olivia,” he says in a low voice. “Now I know what that bastard Henry was talking about.”4RandallShe’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.
Besides the dark bags under her eyes from lack of sleep and a red-tipped nose, Olivia Castor is absolutely flawless. Her chocolate brown hair is pulled into a bun at the top of her head, stray spiral curls framing her heart-shaped face. The purple scrunchie in her hair is stretched to the max, showcasing just how thick and wild her hair is. Her deep brown eyes are round and wide, yet innocent too as she skims my muscular physique with her gaze.
I smirk as I take her in. My eyes devour her figure, memorizing each tiny detail of the lush woman. I shouldn’t be doing this, but hell, this has been a godawful shift, and I need a bit of relief.
I let myself look, and her curves are irresistible and delicious. She’s wearing pajama shorts that ride up her thick thighs and a white tank top that’s nearly transparent. Her massive, silky breasts practically spill out of a nude bra and her waist is slender, her hips wide and full.
I pull myself away from her sexy body and drag my eyes up back to her face, slightly shaking my head to get the dirty images of her out of my head.
“Hi Dr. Monroe,” she murmurs in a low voice. She clears her throat before speaking again. “I’m Olivia.”
I grab the rolling stool near the sink in the corner of the room and sit on it in front of her, averting my gaze from those perky breasts. It’s almost impossible because I’m eye-level with those luscious ta-tas.
You’re at work, I think to myself. Keep it together.
When she straightens and squares her shoulders, those big breasts nearly poke me in the eye. The room is that small, and her boobs are that big.
I don’t think self-control is going to work this time because she’s utterly irresistible, but I have to try.
“What seems to be the problem, Miss Castor?” I ask, my gaze quickly flitting to her chest again as the question leaves my mouth. Goddamn, I have to stop this.
She licks her full lips and the sight of her tongue makes me think more dirty thoughts, as in what it would be like to feel that tongue everywhere on my body. My masculinity begins to respond to her sexiness, and in a futile effort, I move my clipboard directly over my crotch and stare blankly at her chart as she tells me what’s wrong with her.
“I think I may have the coronavirus.”
