Chapter 9: Examine Me Properly

He carried me the last ten feet.

I hadn't asked him to.

He lifted me against his chest, my legs around his waist, and walked us through the dark office into the exam room.

He set me down on the padded table. The paper crackled under me.

"Last chance," he said. His voice was rough. "Say stop and I stop."

"If you stop, I'll hurt you."

A real smile broke across his face, quick and wicked, and I loved it.

He turned on the small lamp over the counter and left the overhead dark.

Then he stood between my knees and began to undo my blouse.

He did it one button at a time with his bare fingers.

His eyes stayed on mine.

"Tell me where it burns," he said.

"Everywhere."

"Be specific, Ms. Ashcroft."

I laughed, breathless. "My mouth."

He kissed it, slow and deep.

"My neck."

His lips moved down my throat, and I felt his teeth graze the pulse there.

"My breasts."

The blouse slid off my shoulders. He unhooked my bra and let it fall.

He looked at me for a long time.

"I've treated a great many bodies," he said quietly. "None of them were like this."

His palms covered my breasts, warm and slightly rough, and I arched into them with a cry.

The burn was gone.

What I felt now was plain, hot want, a year of it pouring out at once.

He rolled my nipples between his thumbs and fingers, and I dug my nails into his shoulders through his shirt.

"Take this off," I said.

He unbuttoned the vest and the shirt and dropped them behind him.

His chest was lean and hard, with a long pale scar along one rib.

I put my mouth on the scar, and he groaned.

"Pamela."

"Lie back, Quincy, and let me look at what I'm working with."

He pushed me down instead, one hand flat between my breasts.

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