“Yes,” I announced in an unsteady voice, “I have this ache that won’t go away.”
Gratefulness ringed his eyes, then vanished as he settled into his role. “Can you lie back? I’d like to take a look.”
Just like that, the sexual charge between us was back. It snapped taut, making it hard to breathe. I leaned back into the pillow and let my hands fall to my sides, staring up at the gorgeous man looming over me. His scrutinizing, thoughtful gaze swept over me in the moments before he reached for the sheet and slowly peeled it out of his way. Down his attention went, taking in my bare legs, and then his attention returned upward, tracing the line of buttons on the oversized dress shirt covering me.
Perhaps his exam was clinical, but my skin burst into flames the second he touched me. His warm fingertips pressed gently to the lymph nodes in my neck, but his touch on my throat was sensual. He trailed his fingers down, gliding them to the hollow between my collarbones.
His hands on my body seemed to melt his exhaustion away and turned his voice into gravel. “Where does it ache?”
The muscles deep in my belly clenched. “Lower,” I whispered.
As he eased back the sides of the open collar of my shirt, the steel of the stethoscope hanging around his shoulders glinted in the low light. I trapped my bottom lip between my teeth and tucked my fingertips beneath my thighs to keep my hands to myself. I wanted to snare his tie and haul him down to me, but I also didn’t want this scene to end. It’d barely started, and I was already panting.
His dark eyes turned somehow darker as his fingers located the top button and pulled it free. “I’ll have to undo this to continue the exam.”
The white coat, matched with his soothing doctor’s voice? I didn’t stand a chance. I swallowed a ragged breath and hoped he didn’t notice how furiously my chest was heaving. Although I was sure he did. It didn’t seem like anything got by Dr. Lowe.
He shifted the open neckline to the side, just enough to expose my bare, extended nipple. He grazed over it with his knuckles before turning his palm over and gripping me. “Here?” He looked so serious. So committed to his role. “Is this where it aches?”
I trembled under his watchful gaze, loving every second of this. I shook my head minutely. It drove him to the other side, and he repeated the action. The pad of one fingertip swirled a circle around my nipple, and then he pinched it between his thumb and the side of his hand. It was an electric shot straight to my clit, and I jolted.
“Lower,” I gasped.
His half-smile was indecent. He liked what he was doing as much as I did.
He popped the buttons on the shirt one by one at a painstakingly slow tempo. I had my knees pressed together, squeezing against the anticipation of his hand running between my legs. My heart galloped and skipped along, making the blood rush loudly through my ears. God, I wanted him so badly, but the scary thing was I wanted to please him even more.
I shivered when Greg opened the shirt and exposed me completely. Goosebumps burst over my flesh, dotting my skin, and he coasted both palms over my trembling belly. His eyes were half-lidded and heavy with lust while they followed the path of his hands descent to my hips.
“Here?” His hands slid inward, his thumbs brushing lightly over my mound. “Or here?”
I arched upward. “Oh, God. There.”
“Try to stay still.” He was teasing and commanding in the same instant. His hands—his fucking hands—they moved so slow. One fraction of an inch at a time, until finally, he grazed my clit. A single stroke. That was all he gave.
“It hurts there?”
“Yes,” I hissed. “Yes . . . Dr. Lowe.”
He sucked in a sharp breath, and my head lolled to the side to take him in completely. He was standing at the edge of the bed, and I could see the swelling bulge in his dark slacks, well within striking distance for me. I reached out and ran my palm up his inseam, cupping him through his pants, only for him to swivel his hips away.
“That’s not appropriate,” he said, and sweet baby Jesus, I threatened to liquify under his intense, scolding stare. Nothing about this was appropriate, and I fucking reveled in our naughtiness.
Greg shifted on his feet, adjusting his stance so he could touch me with ease. He slipped his hand between my thighs and dragged it upward, all the way until the side of his index finger brushed against my throbbing center.
“Part your legs, please,” he said.
My trembling legs fell open, giving him more room to explore. A moan ruptured from deep inside my chest, and he cocked one eyebrow, studying me. Without even trying, the throaty moan was just right. The sound I made was the same for pleasure or pain.