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“No,” I said callously, and fitted the bell of my stethoscope to the inside of her elbow as I watched the needle rise. I released the pressure slowly, listening for the systolic sound.
“I think you all do that on purpose because patients are annoying.”
“Shh,” I chided, paying close attention to make sure I got the reading right. Her blood pressure had been the thing I worried about the most. If it dipped too low, then the risk of her organs not receiving enough oxygen could put her in serious danger.
“So, are you going to spank me if I say them outside the bedroom?”
I lost focus like a waiter dropping a tray of iced teas, and the cuff deflated too rapidly. I blinked down at her. “What?”
“You know,” she gave me a coy smile. “If I slip up. What if I stub my toe and let out an F-bomb? Are you going to spank me?”
My cock got a painful shot of desire and went half hard in an instant. “Jesus, June.” She shrugged, knowing full well what she’d done. I narrowed my eyes and clenched the bulb again. I didn’thaveto tighten it past 140, but I may have let it squeeze a little harder than necessary.
“Ow,” she growled.
“Shut up, Matthews.” I listened as the needle fell. Eighty-nine systolic. It kept falling until I finally heard the diastolic low tone. Sixty-two. Not terrible, but I didn’t know what her base reading usually was. I let the cuff release the rest of the air and ripped it off. “Do you know your usual blood pressure reading?”
She frowned, thinking. “No. The last time I went to the doctor was five years ago to stitch up my finger.” She held it up so I could see the little silver scar running across the pad of her left pointer finger. “Utility knife slipped off my charcoal pencil.”
I glared. “Are you telling me that you work in a surgical clinic, and you don’t get your yearly exam?”
“I thought only kids did that,” she mused.
“June,” I groaned.
“I don’t get sick!” she protested. “I’m the healthiest person alive.” I rotated a meaningful look at the orange pill bottles and shiny new inhaler on her bedside table. “That doesn’t count,” she sniffed. “Are you done?”
I glanced at her pulse ox, which looked fine. “Your blood pressure is low, so if you feel dizzy, don’t be a hero. Just say something.”
“I will, fine. Are we done?”
I fitted the earpieces of my stethoscope to my ears again. “No, and you have to shut up again while I do this part. Can you manage that?”
“For King and Country, I will try,” she said somberly.
I wanted to pick her up, drop her on the bed, and punish her in every filthy way imaginable. Drawing on my dwindling patience reserves, I fitted the diaphragm of the stethoscope just above her breast. “Just breathe normally.”
“Yeah right,” she said, her voice strained. “You’re making me nervous.”
“I don’t know why this would make you nervous. I’m just listening to you breathe.”
“You’re touching me and doing hot doctor shi—stuff,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “June.”
She squirmed. “Okay, okay. I’m chilling. Zen mode activated.” She took a deep breath, pulling in air like a helium balloon on a nozzle.
“June,” I barked. “I said normally.”
She blew it out fast. “Right. Normally.” She took in a breath, paused, and then released it. “I can’t remember how to breathe normally.”
“Christ,” I muttered.
“Can we just go to sleep? I’m tired.”
I sighed, put the stethoscope around my neck, and pinched her cheeks together so she looked up at me. “You’re a pain, Matthews.”
“Thank you.”
