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“It’s heart related,” he says, coming even closer, cornering me. Not that I or any woman on earth would want to run.
I want to be caught by him.
“All right, let me check,” I say, bringing my whirlpool wet, hot hands on to his muscular chest. His velvet smooth skin covers strong muscles that send their own heat into my palm. I want to rub more of that chest and bring my other hand until both palms are pressing against his firm, beautiful chest.
“You have an excellent bedside manner.” He takes a strand of my hair and pushes it back to see more of my face. “I am recovering already.”
“I am glad it’s working,” I say, rubbing my palms over him, rubbing his upper chest and massive shoulders. The heat from his body is deliciously collecting in my palms, waking up parts of me that have slept for too long. I bring my palm to his chest, finding his heart speaking in vibrations of steady thrumming; like an engine driving us both into a shared desire. He brings his hand to mine to push it tighter against his chest.
His beautiful blue eyes linger on me, on my mouth. He continues the delightful play. “But before I continue the treatment, I need to know your credentials. Where did you get your doctor’s degree?”
“It’s posh and prestigious, I am sure you have heard of it?”
“Must be Oxford.” He says with an impressed look on his face.
“Even better.” I giggle. “Hot Tub School of Medicine,”
He laughs loudly. I don’t think he was expecting a quick answer. “My goodness, those are impressive credentials.” His genuine amusement brings me a surge of confidence and immediate joy. He is intrigued by me, though the joke continues.
“How long have you been practicing these healing methods, doctor?”
“It’s been five minutes, I think,” I say giggling. “Your heart is in good shape.”
“And the rest of me?” he asks.
“Your whole body is in very good shape.” Just admitting the obvious sends a blush of heat from my lower body up to my breasts and neck. I am sure I am turning red, but maybe the evening will spare me the embarrassment of him noticing it.
“Do you always turn red when you examine your subjects?”
“Oh, I…”
“I am sure it’s part of your process,” he says.
He comes closer to me, his hand wraps around my waist. “You don’t take up too much space.”
I think he is complimenting my figure. I am not sure how to respond. But he hardly gives me the time.
“You said the rest of my body is fine, but you haven’t touched my whole body.”
“I uh…”
“I can help you with that, make your work easier…” His lips land on my neck. The heat from his nostrils further makes the wetness from his tongue even more sensitive. His muscular chest pummels my breasts, and my nipples are already hard enough to graze his firm, muscled chest.
“I don’t even know your name yet!”
“A”
“For?”
“Anonymous,”
“That’s not what … what I mean to uh…”
He brings his hand to my face; his palms cup the side of my face. I push into his palm.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No.” The dark makes it easier to admit my desire for his beautiful mouth. I have wanted him the moment I saw him. Those smiling lips are now caressing my chin.
