Page 80 of Dr. Intern

Beau observes me closely, but he doesn’t intervene or suggest any changes while I follow his instructions.

My hand trembles slightly as I hold the insulin-filled needle. “Now what?” I ask, voice calm despite my nerves.

He grabs the remaining alcohol swab from the counter and swipes it over his low belly for a few seconds before meeting my gaze. “Now you give me the insulin.”

My eyes go wide. “I just shove it in? No lube?”

“No lube.” He confirms, chuckling to himself. “You’ll go perpendicular to my skin at a ninety-degree angle. Once the needle is in, you’ll use your thumb to push the insulin into the tissue.”

He seems to pick up on my thoughts because he quickly adds, “You won’t hurt me, I promise. It’s a tiny prick, and I’m going to pinch the skin that I just cleaned so the needle only touches fat.”

I can’t help my snort. “Like you have any fat on your body.”

Beau looks like a character straight out of a superhero movie, with his sculpted torso and chiseled muscles. Finding a spot with enough fat to cushion the needle’s sting seems like a stretch.

“You’d be surprised.”

I take a deep breath, working to steady my hand. Beau’s trust in me is both comforting and slightly nerve-wracking, but his confidence boosts my own enough to force me to continue.

As he pinches the skin on his belly, I carefully position the needle above the blob of fat. “Okay, here goes,” I say, putting on a brave face.

Gently, I push the needle into his skin just like he taught me. To my surprise, he doesn’t even flinch. He just watches me with an encouraging smile as I press the plunger, slowly administering the insulin.

“There.” I finish and carefully pull the needle out. “Did I do it right?”

“Perfect,” Beau assures me, his smile wide. “You’re a natural. See? Nothing to it.”

“Thanks,” I reply, unable to hide my blush as I hand him back the syringe. “So surgery next? Can’t be that hard if I have the right teacher.”

He shakes his head in resignation. “Oh god, I’ve created a monster.”

Chapter 33

Beau

Ihop down from the kitchen counter and start to clean up my medical supplies. The insulin needs to be refrigerated, so I trod past Claire and return it to its proper place. The chill from the fridge reminds me that I’m still shirtless, and I close the door with a shudder.

“Cold?” she asks, watching me intently from across the kitchen.

A loose, white v-neck sweater hangs over leggings that look like black leather. Claire insisted that we dress up tonight, even though we were just going to a casual diner. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off her all night, and it makes me want to dress her up more often, even though we have nowhere to go since we’re still keeping our relationship a secret.

“Kind of,” I admit, searching for my shirt. I swear I tossed it on the counter before our little lesson.

“Looking for something?” Claire asks, a wicked glimmer in her eyes.

I turn to her, noticing that she’s holding my red flannel shirt in her hand, a playful smile dancing on her lush lips.

“That would be mine,” I remark, walking in her direction.

She dangles the shirt just out of my reach, her smile growing. “I hardly think it’s necessary.”

I step forward, closing the gap between us. “Why’s that?”

She gives a nonchalant shrug and her sweater slips down her shoulder to reveal more of her neckline. “I like you better without it.”

“You’ve seen me shirtless plenty of times in the past few weeks. Are you turning into a greedy girl?”

We’ve barely been around each other recently because of my schedule, and I know she’s been desperate for more from me. It probably doesn’t help that I can’t stop myself from relentlessly flirting with her. I am a man, after all.

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