Page 138 of Aftershock
He’ll forgive me when he sees what I’m trying to do. Which is to get him deep into doctor mode so our game feels more real, darker, more depraved.
“Baby.” His hands are on me. One of them laces with mine, the other wraps around my throat, checking for my pulse, I guess. “Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you do.”
That doctor voice will be my undoing.
Desperate to see him, I crack my eyes open a fraction.
Alaric’s intensity hits me square in the chest. The full force of his blue gaze takes my breath away. Whether he’s standing or kneeling like he is now, the man is a god.
“Little devil.” His thumb is gentle as he traces it along my jawline, but his shoulders are tense. “There you are.”
Uh-oh.
Since opening my eyes does nothing to soothe him, I realize I might have taken this too far. The panic that’s justunder the surface of his cool facade makes my guilty conscience work overtime.
Ugh, I should have texted him instead of just going with it.
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t try to speak.” He gives me one more look, then rummages through his backpack for something.
His phone.
His thumb slides across the screen, and a flashlight beam lands on me.
Even as it shines into my eyes, I can see Alaric isn’t freaking out a little. He’s freaking out a lot.
Dammit.
“I’m really fine.” To prove my point, I rise on my forearms. Alaric nudges me softly down. “Promise.”
My reassurance is dismissed as this beautiful man lifts one of my eyelids higher.
His narrowed eyes study mine as he commands, “Try not to follow the light.”
“Just close the door,” I whisper when he’s done with the flashlight and nods to himself. “Please.”
“I’m not leaving your side.” He pulls out his stethoscope, placing the earpieces in his ears after sliding it around his neck.
My pussy clenches around nothing when I realize it’s similar to the one we played with before. The only difference is this one carries a faint new-plastic scent.
I suck in a breath when he places the diaphragm over the collar of my shirt.
It feels so good, but I can’t keep hurting him.
“Alaric, I made a mistake.”
“Shh.” My cheek is in his palm while he listens to my pulse.
Another torrent of guilt threatens to swallow me whole when I see lines creasing his forehead.
I’m about to ask him to close the door again when a silhouette appears in the doorway. Without a word, Hope gives me a thumbs-up before closing the door.
At the softclick, Alaric’s head snaps back, then to me.
“She didn’t come in to check on you?” He removes the stethoscope from his ears. His scowl is deep, his face hardened despite the soft glow of the lamp. “What am I missing here?”
“I didn’t actually faint,” I blurt out, desperate to put this behind us and get to the fun part. “It’s a game. You know, playing doctor?”
