Provocative Professions Collection(10)By: S.E.Hall & Angela Graham
"Okay, lie back for me and put your feet in the stirrups."
"I'm not stirred up! I was actually beginning to feel calmer," I snap, swinging my arms over my chest. How dare he!
This time he's unable to contain his laughter, turning away as if I can't hear it. "Stirrups," he reiterates through the chuckle. "When raised and locked in place, you put your feet in them." He turns back, laughter gone, but his expression still amused as he points to the medieval looking thingies folded at the end of the table. "Thank you for that though. Days get long without a laugh or two."
Mortification doesn't begin to describe my emotions at the moment. "You can't repeat that, right? Funny water cooler story. There's confidentiality and all, isn't there?" I scowl, not wanting to be the running gyno meetings joke.
All traces of humor vanish instantly. "Addison, I will never," he locks solemn eyes with me, "ever repeat anything that happens in here."
I believe him. "Thank you," I concede, unfolding my arms.
I sigh and lay back. "As I'll ever be."
The metal clanks noisily as he prepares the stirrups. I tilt my head and watch as he moves a tray and lamp to his side.
"Feet up." He taps my left ankle and helps guide it into the contraption, then does the same with the right. "Now scoot your bottom all the way down."
I do, squirming awkwardly.
I do so again, the paper robe rustling louder.
He snickers. "A little more."
For Christ's sake. In one big scoot, I'm now as far down the table as I can go before my ass smacks him in the face. He doesn't seem to mind, the opposite in fact.
"There ya go, good." He reaches up and adjusts the neck of the lamp, then puts on gloves, the "pop" echoing off the walls of this ever-shrinking room. "Here we go," he breathes out, opening the robe and fully exposing me.
I groan in embarrassment, louder than I intended, obscuring something that he said. "What?" I ask for clarification.
"I didn't say anything." He's still mumbling.
I close my eyes, trying to hide, but they snap back open the instant I feel his muscular hands on the inside of my knees.
"Little wider for me," he says softly, gently pushing my tense legs further apart. "Just like that."
Extremely confused by the flaring within me, I grimace to myself and close my eyes once more. I'm undeniably turned on by Dr. Gorgeous' bedside manner, bedside voice, bedside touch. How sick is that?
Turned on? Oh God, can he tell? Well, of course now that I wonder if I'm...moist...I instantly feel like I'm gushing, or maybe it's the heat of the lamp? Please let it be the heat!
My attempt to bend my legs instinctually is thwarted by his hands, immediately there. "Stay open for me."
Stay open? Is this really happening right now? Yeah, I'm open all right and damn, do I feel it. I turn my head and squeeze my eyes shut as tight as they'll go, silently counting the seconds and willing my body not to react.
"And speculum in," he says an instant before I feel something hard and cold slide inside me, causing me to wince and stiffen. "Easy." He rubs one calf. "Tell me when you're settled."
When I move out of his town.
"Addison?" He peers up at me.
"Yeah, okay, ready." I suck in a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. Almost done, I chant mentally.
"Little pinch," he lies, doing something that's uncomfortable as hell. "Try not to move. I'm going to swab and then we'll be done. You're doing great."
"Uh huh." My voice sounds shaky even to my own ears.
"So did you want to go over anything else today?" he asks, striking up a conversation I could've done without. "Any blood work for communicable testing or birth control?"
"Nope, good on both, thanks." I thought he said two or three minutes. Feels like hours have passed.
"You're good on birth control?" He glances up again, rising slightly to see my face. "I didn't read that in your chart?"
Eyes on the prize, Doc, let's get this done!
"No need. Same with the blood work. I'm fine, trust me," I grumble out the last part. Nosy fucker, outing me as a pathetic, no sex life loser under the guise of medicine.
"Oh, alright then. Well, if that changes, give the office a call and we'll get you in. You need—"
"Twenty-six years old, Doc, I got it!" I cut him off.
He laughs, slowly easing the speculum, I think he called it, out of me. "Almost done, I need to check the positioning of your ovaries and uterus." He stands now, looking down at me. "This will be my fingers in you, Addison."
Fingers? I swallow the lump building in my throat. I'm not sure the breezed over "invasive" warning covers it. I shock myself, having to stifle a giggle with the sudden realization; Dr. Reynolds has literally fingered most of the women in this town.