Page 73 of Passionate Defense

Her wry comment lifted the corners of his mouth, erasing his frown lines and eliciting a deep chuckle. “I was referring to the thrill of discovery and the excitement of exploration.”

“At five, I gave pretend shots and took pretend blood pressures.”

“I suppose I was a lot older,” he admitted, grinning. “The object of this game is to put yourself into your doctor’s capable hands—that would be me.”

“From the black bag and rolled-up sleeves, I kind of figured that.”

“Hush, naughty girl, your doctor is speaking. Where was I?” He paused, his brow furrowing as he feigned annoyance with her for distracting him. “Ah, yes. Discovery and exploration. And anticipation, as you imagine all the wicked, intimate things I’ll do to you with what’s in my bag. Sound fun?”

“Um...fun might not be the word I would use, but I’m always happy to put myself in your hands, Dr. Fischer.”

“Fair enough. Let me teach you the grown-up version of playing doctor.” His confident fingers skimmed over her cheek and along her jaw. “Open.”

When he gave orders in his husky, desire-infused voice, she felt compelled to obey without question.

His thumb slipped inside, and her lips closed around it.

“Excellent. Now suck.”

She did as he asked, applying suction while swirling her tongue around him. His eyes flashed with approval, and she could see the hunger in their depths. Warmth spread through her having pleased him. A simple gesture, yet so intimate and erotic that if she closed her eyes, she could easily imagine it was much more than his thumb.

He withdrew with a pop from the loss of suction. When she opened her eyes to see what awaited her next, Ethan was all she saw as he lowered his head. His mouth covered hers in a heated kiss, his wet thumb gliding over her nipple. Greedy for more, she opened wider, her tongue twining with his as she mimicked what she did with his thumb. Lanie heard the rumble of pleasure in his throat before he lifted his head.

“Oral cavity checks out fine. Tilt your head back.”

Without hesitation, she tipped her head back, exposing her vulnerable throat. She felt a tug on her hair as his fingers tunneled into the thick mass of loose waves, combing it until it hung freely over the table’s edge.

“Silky smooth and flawless, like your skin—so beautiful. This all checks out perfectly.” He winked at her. “Having fun yet?”

“Yes, doctor. This is the best checkup I’ve ever had.”

“I aim to please. Moving on to the really fun parts...”

Placing her hands beside her head, he ordered, “Keep these here,” then he trailed his fingers down her arms, her sides, and moved up to her breasts. He palmed their fullness while gently rolling her nipples. “Perfect breasts, lovely and healthy. I wonder if they taste as good as they look.”

Bending to her, he licked the firm tip before drawing it into his mouth and sucking until, with an ardent cry, her back bowed off the table. It changed to a whimper when he stopped a moment later, but he only shifted to her other breast where he repeated every nip, pull, and lash of his tongue.

“Mmm,” he hummed, against the aching peak. “So sweet and very responsive. I could linger here all day, but I have other interesting parts to examine.”

With his fingers splayed wide, he drew his hands down her belly, measuring every hollow and curve. “A nicely tapered waistline and curvy hips.” He bent and swirled his tongue around her navel before moving lower. “And this womanly softness—very sexy.”

“You mean a pooch, don’t you?”

“No,” he disagreed, gliding his tongue over the slightly rounded curve of her lower belly. “You are how a woman should be, soft in all the right places.”

“You’re as ripped as a washboard and I have a pooch.” She could hear the pout in her voice. No matter how many crunches she did, it wouldn’t go away.

“Imagine two washboards grinding against each other. Uh-uh... not my thing. You’re soft and yielding, a package that’s pure heaven to sink into.”

He continued his head-to-toe inventory, sweeping down her smooth legs and then inching slowly back up the inside. As he approached the apex of her thighs, she expected him to end his slow torture and get down to business. Instead, he delved into his little black bag. Metal clattered and clanked as he dug around. If not for the constant connection he maintained with his other hand, she may have freaked and run screaming for the door.

At last, he found what he was looking for and held up a weird spiky metal object. It looked like the tool she used on stubborn weeds in her rose garden, only in miniature. Her mind conjured up painful horrors as she took in the sharp points and tried to imagine what the crap it could be for other than the obvious. She didn’t have to wonder for long.

“This is a Wartenberg wheel. Doctors use it to check nerve response and reflexes.”

“What happened to the good old red rubber hammer?”

“Medical advancement,” he quipped. “Doctor Wartenberg, who invented it, died in the 1950s so it’s been around half as long as the tomahawk reflex hammer. If you lie still for me, this won’t hurt unless you want it to.”

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