Page 53 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
Their efficiency is impressive, and while it’s bringing me closer to my dreaded reunion with Ambrose, I’m glad I don’t have to wait around and let the anticipation build even more.
The kind brunette beta nurse brings me to an exam room, where she takes my vitals and draws a few vials of blood. Once that’s done, she instructs me to get changed into the paper gown on the table and says that Dr. Stills will be in shortly.
I undress as quickly as possible, like I’m worried he’s going to burst in before I’m changed and he’ll see me naked. He’s already seen me naked, so there are worse things that could happen, but that doesn’t stop my nerves from spiking. To my horror, when I go to take off my underwear, I realize I’m slick between my thighs as my omega delusionally gets ready for Ambrose’s massive cock and knot.
I grimace and shove my panties back on, unwilling to drip slick all over the exam table. There’s already a faint aroma of coffee in the air from the few moments I had my panties off, and I scramble to fish my scent neutralizer spray out of my purse, surrounding myself in a thick cloud of it that makes me cough.
I’m sweaty and breathless, the paper gown clinging to my damp skin as I hop up onto the exam table gracelessly right before there’s a knock on the door.
“Ms. Clairmont? May I come in?”
Thank god I put my panties back on because the husky, warm sound of Ambrose’s voice through the door is enough to have my omega ready to spread her legs.
“Y-yeah!” My reply is a high-pitched squeak and I clutch the front of the gown closed like it will hide my mortifying reactions to my doctor.
The door swings open and there he is, looking even more handsome and perfect than ever. Tall and broad, with those piercing gray eyes that match the sprinkling of silver in his hair and beard. The kindest, heart-melting smile known to man. Even his hands are sexy. I remember how they felt petting me, holding me steady while he fucked me and whispered praise…
Stop thinking about that!
My omega is unhappy that there’s no trace of his refreshing cocktail of citrus and aromatics, but I’m glad because smelling him again would make this infinitely worse.
“Camille.” My name is barely more than a whisper as Ambrose steps into the exam room and shuts the door behind him.
“H-hi,” I say, swallowing hard against my nerves and my overwhelming need to be close to him now that he’s here with me.
“I thought—” He starts at the same time I say, “I’m so sorry!”
Ambrose’s smile drops, and his posture stiffens. “Why are you sorry, sweetheart?”
There’s a pulse of heat between my thighs at the endearment, and I have to grab the edge of the exam table so I won’t launch myself at the alpha.
“I should’ve asked for someone else. I know you probably don’t want to see me after…” Unexpected, hot tears spring to my eyes as I acknowledge the possibility that my omega is wrong, and he’s not interested in me.
A whine slips out of me before I can stop it, and the effect it has on Ambrose is instantaneous. He’s across the room and scooping me up against him. His chest rumbles in a deep purr, just like he did my first time here. Except this time, he doesn’t pull back after a moment.
He buries his face against my neck and shudders, letting out a deep groan. “Fuck, Camille, tell me we can’t do this,” Ambrose murmurs as he fists the back of my gown, threatening to tear the thin paper.
“Why?” I ask, head clouded with relief that he’s holding me and heady desire. I want him to rip this gown off of me and touch me everywhere.
He pulls back to look me in the eye, worry etched in his brow and pupils blown wide with arousal. “Because if you let me hold you again, let me touch you again, I’ll want more.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” I can’t think of anything better than Ambrose taking me right here on the exam table. Pressed this close to him, there’s the faintest hint of his scent, and it’s making my omega feral for more.
Something in the core of the being tells me to grab this alpha and never let him go. It’s terrifying. Exhilarating.
Ambrose shuts his eyes like he’s in pain and lets out another deep groan.
I don’t like that at all. I reach out and cup his cheek, needing to comfort him through his distress.
He leans into my touch, eyes fluttering back open to look at me with so much longing it makes my breath hitch.
“You don’t understand, sweetheart. If I don’t keep my distance, I’ll want to make you mine.”
The words thrill my omega and I lean in to kiss him, desperate to feel his lips against mine, but freeze when my logical brain comes back online.
I don’t know this man.
My body and omega sure as fuck want and trust him, but we’re strangers. It should be a red flag that he’s saying shit like this when the extent of his knowledge of who I am is my medical history and sexual preferences.
