Page 34 of Body Check
fourteen
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Amelia
I’m sending Sinclair on his way when McKittrick approaches the PT bay.
“You okay?” I ask, even though he’s favoring his left leg.
“I could use a look at my knee,” the captain says, nodding at Sinclair. “You have time?”
Oh, good, so he’s not avoiding me outright. I was afraid that would happen.
“I have half an hour until my next session.” Stepping back, I usher him into the small, windowless room I’ve claimed as my own.
Graham is on his lunch break, and Zac is with Derek going over a treatment plan with Trevor, so we have the med suite to ourselves.
McKittrick is wearing athletic shorts and a performance t-shirt with the Grizzlies logo on the chest. His hair is damp, most likely fresh out of the shower, his woodsy scent amplified when he brushes past me to the table.
I do a visual examination first. Everything looks to be in order—no bruising, bleeding, or swelling. Snapping on a fresh pair of gloves, I palpate his knee, watching his face for any indication of pain or tenderness.
“You need to stop.” His voice is hoarse, his entire body a solid line of tension.
“What’s hurting?” Removing my hand from his leg, I take a step back, assessing. I’ve barely touched him. I wasn’t overly aggressive…
He pauses.
“Is it the—”
“I need you to stop,” he says again, more harshly. His breathing is coming faster now, his massive chest rising and falling with each stuttered breath.
“Mc—”
And that’s when I see it. The bulge in his shorts has grown significantly, tenting the stretchy mesh fabric.
Keeping my face neutral, I tell him, “It’s totally natural. You don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s a physical reaction.”
“Stop talking.” His face flames and he scrunches his eyes, like that will make it go away.
“But—”
“Amelia,” he says, his voice rough like sandpaper. Heat coils deep in my belly at the sound, and I clench my thighs together. “I’m ten seconds away from throwing you down on this table, so if you don’t shut the hell up right fucking now—”
“You’ll do what?”
His eyes open, and he turns to look at me, his green eyes nearly eclipsed by his pupils. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” I cross my arms over my chest, hiding the way my nipples have beaded into tight buds.
“It’s inappropriate,” he grunts, scrubbing a hand over his face.
I pull off my gloves, and then set my hand on his thigh again. Higher. My fingertips run along the hem of his shorts, the rasp of his body hair on my skin doing dangerous things to my heart rate.
“Do you know what you’re doing, little girl?” His eyes lock on mine, daring me to go further.
I’ve never backed down from a challenge.
Sliding my hands over his shorts, I tease my way to his hip, tiptoeing my way over the socket. The bulge twitches, and my mouth waters. I wonder what he looks like up close. I want to taste him, to lick him from root to tip. My pussy clenches around emptiness, leaving me wanting.
