Page 96 of Darling Venom
I cleared my throat, cheeks flushed. “Ready.”
He walked in, looking calm, collected, and about as lively as carb-free pasta. If he was shocked to see me, it didn’t show.
I held my breath, waiting to see which version of Tate I’d get. Last time, he hadn’t wanted to talk to me. But I figured he was professional enough to at least converse with his patient. (Low bar. I know.)
“Miss Richards.” He collected a clipboard, sliding the sheets I filled earlier beneath its teeth. “I reviewed your intake form and noticed this is your first gynecologica
l exam.”
He made his reluctance to treat me obvious. I almost asked why he’d agreed in the first place, but that would require diving head-first into an awkward conversation.
Pass.
I tipped my chin up, leg kicking back and forth. “Yep.”
Eloquent, Charlotte.
I leaned back in my seat and crossed my ankles.
Everything seemed okay so far. Doable.
I mean, my heart was shadowboxing with my rib cage and I’d reduced myself to first-grade vocabulary, but all things considered, I appeared as if I had my shit together.
Tate leaned against his full bookshelf, clipboard tucked under his bicep. He looked professional, yet… boyish. A far cry from the man I’d met inside these walls, pounding the shit out of a blonde woman who rode a two-minute orgasm.
“I could call in my colleague, Dr. Bernard.”
It was the white flag I needed to confirm asshole Tate would take the backseat for the day.
I considered it. “Is Dr. Bernard a man or a woman?”
“Man.”
“Old or young?”
Tate cocked a brow. “Fifty-something, I believe. Do you want to see a picture?”
I tilted my head sideways, batting my lashes. “Would that be too weird to ask?”
He suppressed a grin.
He reminded me so much of Kellan. Yet, they couldn’t be more different if they’d tried. And that reminded me I’d liked Kellan in more ways than I’d allowed myself to admit at the time.
The weird thing was, my feelings for both brothers were so strong, yet so unalike. They awoke different parts of me.
Tate’s narrowed sapphire-silver eyes scanned my face. He palmed his phone, clicked away, and passed it to me.
I retrieved it with shaky fingers, eyeing the picture he’d pulled up. Of a man in a blue tie, smiling at the camera. He looked like a Baldwin brother.
I handed the phone back. “I don’t know about that. I’ve never been examined before. What do you think? Should I go with a complete stranger, or someone I know and kind of hate?”
It occurred to me that I could choose neither option. If I wanted, I could leave this place. Book an appointment elsewhere. With someone who made me feel comfortable. A woman.
I toed the line, knowing I’d stay and refusing to admit why.
Tate stared at me with an intensity that threatened to burn me alive, his throat rolling with a swallow.
“I think,” he said carefully, “I’m not the person you should be asking.”
