Chapter Two
Joshua
“Excuse me?” My brows raise with confusion. I clearly didn’t hear her right.
“Shit, did I say that aloud?” she asks, a pretty blush coating her cheeks.
Offering my hand, I can’t help but smirk. “Hi, Hazel, I’m Joshua Bradley, the registered nurse on staff tonight.”
It’s been a long-ass night, and I’ve been looking forward to going home. That is until I stepped into room five. For all intents and purposes, she looks fine. Under the guise of medicine, I take her in one more time.
Her brown hair is pulled into a mess at the top of her head. She has green eyes I expect can seduce me in a beat and full lips drawn into a hard line. Her slender neck gives way to a T-shirt covering perky tits, her nipples announcing her braless state.
Forcing my gaze farther down, I can’t see her lower half as she’s covered in a blanket. What do her legs look like? Long and slender or toned?
“What brings you in tonight?” I ask, something I know she’s been asked multiple times by now. Her face darkens to a scarlet color, and my curiosity barely hangs on to the tight leash I hold.
“I—um—have a burning sensation?” she states, her voice wavering at the end.
“A burning sensation?”
“Yeah,” she croaks.
Raising a brow, I step closer and read the chart in my hands, noting the vitals taken when she’d been admitted. “Where?” I force a calmness to the forefront, hoping it helps her open up because I can see she’s rather uncomfortable over what’s ailing her. Whatever perfume she’s put on hits my nose, and I’m tempted to lean in for a better whiff.
Fuck, Josh! Get your shit together before she slaps a harassment complaint in your file.
After a moment, she mutters what sounds likegina. It takes me a moment, and my eyes widen before I shut it down. “Your vagina?” I ask, proud of myself when the question doesn’t come out strangled. Any other patient and I’d be the epitome of professionalism. But this woman is hot, and it’s messing with my head, or maybe I should say heads? I stow the attraction. She needs my help, not my number.
She sighs. “Yeah…”
“Okay. How long have you been experiencing this burning sensation?”
“A few hours.”
“Can you describe it to me?”
“It feels like hot pokers. Like someone’s set a fire inside it,” she tells me, her earlier nerves disappearing.
I nod, and my eyes dart to her ring finger. With a quick look around the room, I ask carefully, “Is this an injury you sustained with another person or by yourself?”
She coughs, covering a tinkle of a laugh, and I realize I want to hear the real thing. “By myself. I believe it’s the lube I used.”
Why the fuck is this woman having to pleasure herself? Lowering my head, I clear my inappropriate thoughts and jot down a few notes. “Did you notice any redness or swelling in the area?”
“I haven’t checked. I feel tender, and fuck if it doesn’t burn. Isn’t there something you can give me to make it go away?”
I place my hand on her foot and squeeze gently. “Not yet. We’ll get you figured out soon. Do you happen to remember the brand and type of lube? Is there anything else which might’ve caused it?
I must admit my curiosity is piqued. What is making her body react like this? I’ve used plenty of lube in my lifetime, and never has one caused a burning sensation.
“I’ve used the vibrator for a few months, so I doubt it’s to blame. The lube—” She peeks at the ceiling in thought. “I don’t remember the exact brand, but it warms on contact?”
I nod, forcing the image of Hazel pleasuring herself with a vibrator from the forefront of my mind and into the spank bank for later. “That’s good.” Many times, patients come in completely unaware or unwilling to share information that could lead to a diagnosis and aid in their healing. Hazel had been visibly uncomfortable and embarrassed at first, but at least she was talking.
If my dick was on fire, I’d give up all the details, embarrassment be damned. I hope Dr. Rollins can come in soon because I’d hate to make her wait too much longer.
“Can you show me your hands and arms?” I ask and wait until she offers them. I glance around, lifting and twisting as I search for any hives or marks that may tell me more. When I reach her hands, I do the same and notice one is a little bigger than the other. Pressing on the skin, I see signs of swelling. “Are you wearing shorts or pants?”
