Page 9 of Unapologetic Obsession
A bath sounded amazing, but I couldn’t fathom lifting my body off this soft bed. “I’m so tired,” I said apologetically, feeling like a diva for making her job difficult.
She smiled kindly at me. “It’s okay, Rose. You’ve gone through a lot.” She headed to the door, then paused to speak over her shoulder. “It was good to see you again.”
What?
Despite my best attempts, I couldn’t muster the energy to ask her what she meant. The plush pillows called to me, and I drifted to a slumber.
When I opened my eyes next, the room was dark, illuminated by the dim moonlight streaming through the windows. A hazy figure had taken Amelie’s spot, and I knew instantly it was him. The air smelled like the outdoors and cashmere with a hint of amber. If the unique cologne didn’t set him apart, his physique did the job. He was the largest man I had met—both in height and bulk. Even through the mist, his shadow was unmistakable. I glanced at the nightstand to find a basin filled with water. Steam rose from it as if it were boiling. His signature smell, mixed with the foggy haze, was too much to handle. The heady stuff could put a person in a coma.
Once my eyes adapted, I watched him in the moonlight, which cast a warm golden glow on his features, especially his chiseled torso. He was shirtless.
Holy shit.
He held a sponge in his hand, his muscular arms glistening with water droplets. It made him appear rough, like a brute working man rather than an educated doctor.
Dumbfounded, I stared at his bare chest. I had no idea why he took his shirt off. Didn’t even think to ask. I savored as much of the visual as the dimly lit room allowed, tracking the hard ridges of his abs, dazing over the way they dented inward.
My breath quickened when he caught me ogling. If he wondered whether I had seen a half-naked man before, the answer was written right there in my stupefied face. Perhaps I saw one before losing my memories, but I couldn’t recall.
He didn’t comment on the gawking and remained entirely expressionless. He merely dipped the sponge in the bowl, slowly wringing it out before placing it on my collarbone. I expected it to be boiling and was pleasantly surprised by the lukewarm water. The slight pressure of his calloused fingers caressed my skin, soothing it. The water trickled down my collarbone, disappearing between my breasts.
I frowned.
Slowly, I lifted my head to glance down. My filthy hospital gown was gone. I was naked under a soft white sheet. The sheet was pulled down to expose most of my chest except my nipples, and it was hiked so far up he could see my vagina if he stood by my feet.
“What the?—”
“Sponge bath,” he cut me off mid-panic.
Was that why he was shirtless? He didn’t want the water ruining his posh clothes. God, I hoped Nurse Amelie undressed me instead of the doctor.
Noticing my mortified expression, he added, “I can’t dress your wounds without cleaning them properly.”
His tone was clinical, and the logic was there, but my panic was real. I didn’t know what sex entailed—and by God, had Itried to remember—I only knew it was an intimate exchange, something akin to my current predicament. I had overheard many crude things while living on the streets; numerous references, such as pussy and cock to suggest one’s privates, and fucking when referring to sex. Although I hadn’t received a demonstration of sex yet, I was suddenly extremely aware of his closeness.
I swallowed. “You don’t have to do that. I can take a shower.”
“You’re exhausted, and you can’t stand on your bad ankle long enough for a shower.” He lifted my arm to glide the sponge on the underside. Although he held up my arm like a drumstick, going along with it robotically required excruciating effort. There was no denying that I wouldn’t last in a shower stall. Still, this was too embarrassing.
“There’s a tub in the bathroom,” I pointed out.
He dropped the sponge in the basin. “Okay, I’ll give you a bath if you’re up for it. It’ll be good for your ankle.”
I immediately warded him off with two resisting hands. “Oh. No, thank you. I meant, I could take a bath. By myself. Alone. I bathe alone. I can bathe myself,” I rambled.
With a head shake, he reclaimed his previous seat. “You are too weak. You might fall asleep and drown if I leave you in hot water.”
With hands that might’ve been slightly trembling, I reached for the sponge. “Then let me finish up.”
He paused without letting go of the sponge. “No,” was his curt reply before he moved the sponge to my arm, breaking my hold on it as if I were a pesky fly.
It suddenly dawned on me that I knew nothing about this doctor. What if he stole organs from homeless girls like me to sell on the black market? Whenever someone went missing on the streets, it was believed they had been trafficked.
As I stared into his unforgiving eyes, I realized a career in crime was plausible for this man. He concealed his emotions with ease, was prone to violence, and the only time he expressed empathy was for me—his potential merchandise. Was he caring for me so I wouldn’t be too scuffed up for the upcoming auction? This ended up being a Hansel and Gretel story, after all. He was fattening me up to sell me.
“Calm down,” his commanding voice said gruffly. “You’re spiraling and thinking the worst. I can see it on your face.”
I nodded, suppressing my anxiety.
