by Kimberly Fox
“Questions about your condition,” I say, interrupting him. I roll my eyes. “Forget it. Mr. Winters, I have to examine you now.”
“All right,” he says with a grin. “Finally getting to the good part.”
Is this guy for real?
I want to be mad at him, but I’m too shocked by his boldness. And a part of me kind of likes it.
I’ve been avoiding looking at him too closely, but now I don’t have a choice. My breath starts to quicken as I place my stethoscope in my ears and lean in close to him. His intense green eyes are locked on mine.
His right eye is black from the accident, but the darkness on the skin around it just makes the striking green color pop even more. It’s the first time I’m looking at his face up close, and it’s making me light-headed. His nose is a tad crooked like it was broken in an accident long ago but never fixed. It should ruin his look, but instead, it just makes him look that much sexier. A flaw that adds to the perfection.
“I’m going to check your heart rate,” I say as I look down at his massive tattooed chest. I swallow hard as I press the tip of my stethoscope to his left pec and listen.
His heart is racing. “Your heart rate is up.”
He grins as he watches me. “It wasn’t like this a minute ago.”
Yeah. Mine wasn’t either.
Our eyes meet again, and my heart pounds harder than ever.
You could cut the sexual chemistry with a scalpel.
“You have a beautiful look,” he says with a voice that feels like soft leather. “What are you?”
“I’m a doctor,” I answer curtly.
He laughs, and for some reason I feel like pulling out a notebook and writing poetry.
“I can see that,” he says. “I can also see a hint of what? Puerto Rican?”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Portuguese.”
“Mom or dad?”
This is going too far. I’ve already violated my hard-fast rule of keeping personal stuff out of the examining room.
“Can we just focus on the examination?” I ask, getting flustered.
“You focus on your examination. I’ll focus on mine.”
I yank the stethoscope back down on my neck and glare at him. “This is inappropriate.”
“Your eye twitches when you’re upset,” he says with an amused smile.
My jaw is clenched, my body tense. “I’m not upset.”
“Look,” he says with a grin. “It’s twitching even more.”
I get off the bed and stand up, staring down at him with heated eyes. “Would you like me to get a sedative to knock you out while I finish this?”
“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “I want to be awake and alert when your hands are all over me.”
“This is your last chance,” I say as every nerve ending in my tense body tingles. “I’m going to examine your lower half now.”
“Does my cock work?”
My head whips around and my eyes lock onto his.
He shrugs as he motions to the slings that his arms are strapped into. “I can’t reach it. I can’t tell if it works or not.”
Finally, something he’s worried about.
“It may not work for a couple of days,” I say. “Or never.”
I don’t know why I lie to him, but I do. I guess I want to get him as flustered as he’s gotten me.
But I may have gone overboard because he freaks the fuck out.
“Never?!?” he shouts, staring at me in panic. “Examine it. Please!”
I shake my head, not knowing what to do. I might have gone too far this time.
“I’m not going to touch it,” I say with a hard swallow.
“Why not?” he asks, struggling to reach it. He’s going to rip his arm out of the sling and do more damage to his back. “Just smack it around a bit.”
“Stop moving,” I say as I tighten his arm slings. “I’m not touching you there. It’s highly inappropriate.”
“It’s a doctor’s examination to see if it works,” he says, staring at me with pleading eyes. “It’s not sexual unless you put those pretty little lips on it.”
My cheeks turn insanely hot.
“I’m sorry,” he says after taking a deep breath. “That was inappropriate. But please. I need my cock. The women of the world need my cock.”
There’s a tenseness in my stomach as I watch him with uncertainty. He is my patient, and he’s making a medical request. I shouldn’t deny him a medical examination just because the thought of his big long package is getting me warm between the legs.
“Please,” he begs.
“Fine,” I say as I roll up my sleeves.
I talk to myself as I reach down and grab his gown that’s bunched up around his waist. This is a medical exam. You’re a professional, and this is all part of your job. You’re definitely not going to relive this moment tonight when you pull out Mr. Sparkles from your nightstand drawer.
I nearly gasp when I pull down the thin fabric and see his long thick cock trailing down his muscular legs.
Wow. He’s a lot bigger than Mr. Sparkles.
I’m breathless to the point where I’m almost panting as I stare at it. It’s beautiful. I’m tempted to take pictures for his file. A file that I would definitely work on at home, probably at the same time as I work on myself.
Arousal begins coursing through my tingling body, settling between my legs.
“I’m going to begin the examination,” I say in a voice that’s much lower than normal.
He cranes his neck up, watching as I poke the shaft with my finger. It moves, and I flinch—jumping back in shock.
“What is it?” he asks. He still looks terrified that his cock won’t work again.
I can’t blame him. If I had a cock as beautiful as that, I would be terrified too.
“Nothing,” I say, taking a deep breath as I try to compose myself. I have an idea. It’s not a good idea, but it’s all I got.
I pull a pencil from my front pocket and poke his dick with the eraser. “Do you feel that?”
“Are you kidding me?” he asks, staring at me in shock. “Just grab it.”
I hold in a breath as I reach down and take it in my trembling hand. It’s so big, and all I can think about is finishing the examination with my mouth.
“Do you feel this?” It’s only four words, but two of them crack. I feel like there’s a frog in my throat.
“No,” he says with a shake of his head.
He may not feel it, but it definitely still works. His shaft hardens in my hand as he starts to get an erection.
I jerk my hand back like I just touched a hot stove and yank his gown back down to cover it. I’ll be thinking about his dick enough. I don’t need to see it fully hard. That will make me become an obsessive crazy woman.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, racing to the door.
“Where are you going?” he asks as I yank the door open, and hurry into the hall. I close the door and lean against it as my heart pounds.
I quickly slip the stethoscope into my ears and check my own heart, worried that it’s going to explode. It’s thumping like a rabbit on speed, but so far, no explosions.
Is that what you call professional? I chastise myself as I hurry down the hall, looking for Ralph.
I grab the resident I’m training and drag him back to the room to finish the examination for me.
Shane frowns when he sees that I’ve brought a third wheel to the party.
“This is Dr. Preston,” I say, presenting Ralph. “He’s going to finish the examination. I have to take care of another emergency.”
Changing my wet panties constitutes an emergency, right?
Shane starts to protest as I head to the door. “Wait!” he says as Ralph steps forward and yanks down his gown. “God, your knuckles are so hairy!”
I hurry into the hall, unsuccessfully trying to settle some of the overpowering arousal taking over my body.
Yup. Definitely going to need fresh
batteries for Mr. Sparkles.
Chapter 4
Shane
It’s bad enough that my cock doesn’t work, but now I have to stay in a room that looks like a party for a kindergartner.
“Wow,” I say with a monotone voice as I stare at the dozen helium balloons attached to my manager’s hand. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Don’t mention it,” Christopher says.
“No, really,” I say with a laugh. “You shouldn’t have.”
“I know how much you love superheroes,” he says as he places the balloons in the corner, “so I got you one of each. Superman, Batman, Iron Man, Spiderman, even Deadpool.”
Great. Those are really going to impress my hot doctor.
“You’re getting some good press this morning,” he says as he stands beside my bed awkwardly. “ESPN, FOX, NBC, CBS—they’re all playing the footage of you from last night.”
I drop my head back on the pillow and sigh. “Are they playing the tricks that I landed or just the crash?”
Christopher runs his hand through his hair nervously. “All press is good press, right?”
Wrong. Nothing good can come from millions of people watching me turn into a pretzel while they chug their morning coffee as they rush out for work.
“Even Sports Illustrated called for an interview,” he says.
I shake my head as I look out the window. It’s around ten A.M., and the sun is up, shining over the city that’s streaming with life. Streaming with life while I’m stuck here for who knows how long?
At least I have a beautiful doctor to help me pass the time. I can’t stop thinking of her dark blonde hair and beautiful olive skin. I smile to myself when I picture her gorgeous gray eye twitching when I started to flirt with her.
She’s going to be fun. I have to entertain myself somehow while I’m stuck in this bed.
“Are you in any pain?” he asks.
I shrug. The pain I can handle. It’s the negative thoughts that are the killer. I’m at the peak of my career, and I’m desperate to get back on my bike as quickly as possible. The Moxie Energy Drink Championships are only four months away, and I have to be there. Riding. Not as a spectator.
“They got me on some anti-inflammatory drugs to bring the swelling in my spine down, but I can’t feel much. Nothing below the waist.”
His eyebrows raise. “Nothing below the waist?”
Knowing Christopher, if I tell him that I can’t feel my cock it’s going to end up on the cover of Sports Illustrated.
“Did you call my parents?” I ask, changing the subject.
“They were watching live on TV,” he answers. “Your mother called me the second after it happened. She was pretty hysterical.”
“She usually is whenever I fly off my bike.” It can’t be easy to be the mother of a freestyle motocross rider. I’ve given her more than a few gray hairs in my lifetime.
“I calmed her down and told her you’d call them when you wake up,” he says.
“Thanks, C,” I say with a sigh. But there’s something else. I can feel it. “What else do you have?” I ask, bracing myself for impact.
“The insurance,” he says as he begins pacing up and down the side of my bed. “You don’t have any.”
“What?” I ask, wincing in pain as I jerk my head up. Goddamn fractured rib.
“The Private Health Group dropped you after your last accident and The Careness Group the accident before that,” he says, rubbing his sweaty palms down the sides of his legs.
“And why the hell didn’t you get me insured somewhere else?” I ask, wishing I could get out of this hospital bed so I could put him in one. “That’s what I pay you for.”
“It was on my to-do list,” he says, backing away from me with a wince. “I’m sorry, Shane. I fucked up.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. This is bad. I’m probably going to be stuck in here for weeks, running up a bill that will wipe me clean and probably leave me in the hole. If I can’t ride again, I’m as good as fucked.
“What about my sponsors?” I ask after taking a deep breath. “Any of them want to help?”
He sucks in a breath. “Your sponsors already dropped you. They can cut you off after an accident. It’s in your contract.”
“The contract you negotiated,” I say, feeling like I’m going to puke. I guess that’s what happens when you hire your numbskull friend from high school as your manager.
“We’ll get through this,” he says, looking like he has no idea how he’s going to get us through this. “We just have to look on the bright side.”
I shake my head as I stare at the superhero balloons floating in the corner. “Look on the bright side,” I repeat with a laugh. “At least I have balloons.”
“See?” he says, smacking my shoulder with a smile on his face. “You look like you’re feeling better already!”
I’m staring at Wolverine’s face when the door opens and my gorgeous doctor walks in. My hopeless mood just drifts away when I see her blushing cheeks.
She looks tired at the end of her shift, but she’s still stunning. I thought I was seeing an angel when I opened my eyes on the stretcher and first saw her. I was worried that I had died and was already in heaven.
“Hello, Mr. Winters,” she says. Her voice is so formal, but that flushed skin is betraying her professionalism. I’m already under her skin. I could tell that the second she ran out of my room in a panic. It was a bit of a giveaway.
“Are you here to give me a sponge bath?” I ask with a grin.
She still hasn’t looked at me yet. She’s looked everywhere but at me.
“No,” she says sternly. “I’m here to give you a needle. It’s going to be in your behind, so you won’t feel it.”
“You mean I won’t feel your hands caressing my naked ass?”
Her eyes finally land on mine, and the intensity of them makes me flinch. “Did I say your behind? I meant to say your forehead.”
I laugh as she turns and prepares the needle. Her slim body is covered by the loose lab coat she’s wearing, but I can imagine what she’s hiding underneath. It’s all I’ve been doing for the past few hours.
“Can you shift your hips to the side?” she asks when the needle is ready.
“I can do a lot of things with my hips,” I say with a grin. “Well, normally.”
“Shifting them to the side will be fine,” she says. Her words are telling me she’s not interested, but her body is speaking another language. Her breath is coming out short and quick—when it comes out at all—and I can see the little hairs on her arms raising as she comes closer.
“So, what’s your first name, Dr. Mendes?” I ask as I maneuver my hips to the side with the help of my arms.
“Would you mind not talking,” she asks. “I’d like to focus on what I’m doing.”
“Sure,” I say with a smirk. “Focus on my ass all you want.”
She lowers the needle and huffs out a breath. “Am I going to have to reassign you to another doctor?”
“I just asked your first name,” I say with a shrug. “I thought as a patient, I had the right to know my doctor’s full name.”
She grumbles something under her breath that I can’t hear. It’s probably better that I don’t hear it.
“Madison,” she says. “My first name is Madison. Happy?”
“Very,” I say with a smile. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
She pulls up my gown and jabs the needle into my ass with a lot more force than necessary. It’s the first time since I woke up that I’m glad I have no sensation down there. That would have hurt.
“What’s with the superhero balloons?” she asks, looking over at the gift from Christopher. “What are you, five years old?”
I grin now that I finally got her talking, even though it is to insult me. Soon she’ll be as good as mine.
“They’re from my manager,” I say. “I love superheroes.”
“So does my five-year-old nephew,”
she says with a roll of her eyes.
“I always wanted to be a superhero when I was a kid,” I say.
“Well, you have the muscles for it,” she says, then quickly shuts her mouth as her cheeks redden. Something tells me she wasn’t planning on saying that out loud.
“I mean…” she says, stuttering. “You wanted to be a superhero?”
“I always dreamed of flying,” I say, easing into my speech. I’ve said this a hundred times to a hundred different ladies, and it gets them wet every time. “I found the closest thing to it. When I’m on my dirt bike sailing through the air—it feels like I’m flying. I feel like a superhero.”
This is usually where the girl leans in and kisses me, but Dr. Mendes doesn’t look impressed. At all.
“Superheroes are supposed to save people,” she says with a look of annoyance. “Do you save anyone while you’re bouncing around on that bike of yours, or do you just break your own bones?”
I open my mouth, but for once in my life, I’m speechless. I wasn’t expecting that.
“You would make a good supervillain,” I finally say with a laugh. “The evil but sexy doctor.”
She rolls her eyes as she looks at me. “Supervillain?” she repeats with a tight laugh. “I’m more of a superhero than you. I actually save lives, which last time I checked is the primary function of a superhero.” She points at the Batman balloon and frowns. “I’m more of a superhero than that guy.”
“Batman?” I say with a laugh. “You’re more of a superhero than the Caped Crusader?”
“Yeah,” she says with a huff of breath. “I save lives every day. What does he do? He beats up a poor mentally handicapped man.”
“Who, Joker? He’s a supervillain!”
“How can he be a supervillain?” she asks. “He has no powers. All he has is a mental disorder, which skews his view of reality. He needs psychiatric care.”
“Wow,” I say, laughing as she frowns at the balloons. “I didn’t realize I had a doctor who was better than Batman. You should definitely wear tights to work. I can picture you dressed as Wonder Woman.”
“And I can picture you with a golden lasso wrapped around your neck.”
