Page 11 of Unapologetic Obsession
Why?
Distracted by his lack of reaction, I didn’t notice when his fingers slipped between my thighs. Much after the fact, I realized what the washcloth was for—the sponge would’ve been too rough for what he intended.
My eyes were about to bug out of my sockets, and suddenly, my past wasn’t the only thing to disappear from my memory. Words left me, as I forgot how to speak.
He meant to—oh God.
It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.
He was OCD and wanted to cleaneverything.A man who looked like him, and a doctor no less, had no interest in someone like me, at least not like that. He was extremely out of my league. If anything, I’d made googly eyes while he had maintained professionalism, concerned only with patient care.
The mantra helped soothe me, and I relaxed with each affirmation. With my eyes closed, I convinced myself that nothing existed besides the sound of the waves and his inebriating scent. I relaxed and let the wet washcloth slide between my thighs. Once I forgot everything else, I realized the warm towel caressing my skin felt good. Too good. Especially each time his thumb accidentally brushed against my lips. My senses heightened, my thighs trembled, and I kept wishing he’d linger at the spot for a little longer.
What was wrong with me?
I was a pervert for reveling in a sponge bath. It was supposed to be a part of my medical care. I had no clue what his touch had evoked, only that this reaction was inappropriate in front of a doctor.
An embarrassing moan bubbled at the back of my throat, and he had barely started. He focused on each area for two minutes. You could do anything for one hundred and twenty seconds, even suppress an involuntary reaction, right?
One hundred and twenty seconds turned out to be a lifetime.
The washcloth rubbed between my lips with meticulous precision. Back and forth, then in the same circular motion as the sponge had on the rest of my body. Soapy water from thesoaked towel gathered between my thighs, the slippery mess working against me.
My eyes were screwed shut as I held my breath. He removed the soapy towel and restarted the torture with a wet one meant to rinse me off. Water droplets from the washcloth ran a line from my lower abdomen to my sex. The swipe of a cool, wet sensation glided over the skin to erase the traces of water, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. It was too soft to be a towel. Something inside me screamed it was him licking the water off, and it was the feeling of his lips setting my skin on fire.
I squeezed my eyes even tighter. No. This was crazy. He wasn’t leaning over to taste my soapy, salty skin.
The pressure from the cloth continued, inducing an unbearable throbbing between my thighs. I bit into my fist to hold back the scream that wanted to break free. My heart pounded. This time, I didn’t fear my embarrassing reaction. I feared he’d stop before whatever wished to break through could do so.
He pressed the washcloth against me, pushing farther inside to rub and clean. A wave of intense bliss pulsed through me, and my thighs convulsed. I didn’t know what was happening, but I never wanted it to end.
My mouth opened in a silent scream, and my back arched slightly off the mattress. A jolt of electricity in my veins made me shudder and gasp for air in shock. It consumed me, leaving me breathless and trembling in its wake. My ears pounded as if everything in the world had gone quiet. I was in a dark vacuum without vision or sound.
After an eternity, my eyes snapped open, cheeks heating with humiliation.
What the hell just happened?
More importantly, did he notice? How could he not?
Maybe he thought I fell asleep and experienced a sleep-induced seizure. Anything. I was grasping at straws.
I eyed the doctor, who had finished toweling me dry. He was cool as a cucumber. Even he couldn’t act so aloof if he heard me. No way. Perhaps I had nothing to worry about after all.
As he covered me with the large comforter, I noticed a Band-Aid on my left arm. He must’ve administered the so-called tetanus shot while I was asleep. Apparently, it wasn’t enough. He inserted a needle into my vein, securing it with tape. I knew it wasn’t the same as the needles I had seen on the streets, especially when he ran a line and attached it to an IV bag.
I thought it’d hurt. It was painful when Amelie merely dabbed me with antiseptic. However, I barely felt a pinch while he poked and prodded, went over my wounds with antiseptic, and covered them with bandages. He used gauze to wrap the angry-looking ones, taking his time with each injury as if it required the precision of brain surgery.
Was he always this gentle with his patients, or was he taking his time so I wouldn’t feel an ounce of pain? I stopped trying to decode his intentions and passed out long before he started on my ankle. I only knew one thing for certain—the doctor was a godsend with the patience of a saint.
Chapter
Five
CADEN
Past
“For God’s sake,Caden, exercise some patience for the first time in your life. It’s a virtue for a reason.” My twin, Damon, stared me down with exasperation.
