Page 100 of Darling Venom
“I’m going to have to insist on a verbal confirmation, Miss Richards.”
I inwardly rolled my eyes. “Yes, I would like a general exam. Please.”
“May I untangle you from your…” He raked his eyes over the tissue paper around me. “Chastity belt?”
Heat rose up my neck and cheeks.
“Whatever. I guess.” I couldn’t sound more juvenile if I tried. Which, as amazing as it was to comprehend, was not what I was attempting to do here.
He cleared his throat. “I will need…”
“Oh. Right. Yes. Please, please, untangle me from the paper.”
He reached out to me, unwrapping my body from the tissue without actually touching me. This close, the scent of him—sandalwood and bonfire and heady, earthy musk of a man—made every inch of me tingle.
I inched away to stop my mouth from watering.
When the tissue sat in a heap of scratchy paper beneath my body, Tate motioned for me to lie down.
“I’ll walk you through each step. Stop me if you have any questions or if you feel uncomfortable.” His voice was casual. Taciturn.
I nodded, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose.
He started with the abdominal exam, which consisted of him feeling my stomach through my gown. He pressed here and there, his fingers strong and expert. I suppressed a grunt, my muscles tensing.
I could see why women found ob-gyns attractive. They literally dedicated their lives to learning everything there was to know about the female body. He could probably give women orgasms in his sleep. He probably gave women orgasms while they slept. In their dreams.
“Moving on to the breast exam.” His hand drifted up to the tie protecting my chest from the A/C and mortification when Tate inevitably spotted the alert state of my nipples. “I’m going to untie the top of your gown now. Is that okay?”
“Sure.”
He reached forward, tugged on the string, and… nothing.
We realized at the same time that my strategy had backfired, eyes colliding in the silence. Problem was, I’d knotted the ties so tight, the neckline choked my throat. The string would take a solid few minutes to untangle.
I bit my lip when my ankle hit a stirrup too hard. “What’s the protocol in situations like this?”
“There is no protocol.” To his credit, he didn’t laugh at me, which only made the situation tense. “This is a first for Bernard and Marchetti.”
I cracked a smile. “I could skip the breast exam and take the gown as a souvenir?”
He said nothing.
“I’d compensate you for it, of course,” I rushed out.
Oh my God, Charlotte.
Make like Ariel and shut up.
Where was a fire alarm to pull when I needed one?
“Is that what you really want?”
Was he already regretting not pawning me off to Dr. Bernard? Would this become the new funny clinic story all the nurses told their nurse friends?
Shut up, brain. You’re not helping.
I considered it. It was peak cowardice to show up, undress, and leave without all the standard exams. “What are the other options?”
