Page 8 of Stirred Up

His face moves closer to mine, his minty breath all I can smell, and then it hits me. My mouth clamps shut, incase mine isn’t as minty fresh.All the crap I sprayed and I forgot about my breath?

Great, I’m a mute until he backs up at least. No way am I risking it.

“Deep breaths,” he says softly, resting one hand on my back, the other placing the instrument to my chest. “Good, again.”

I’m confident he can hear my erratic heartbeat. The beating only grows wilder thinking about it and my cheeks flush. The harder I attempt to school my labored breathing, steady my racing heart, the worse it seems to get.

“Addison,” he pulls back to look at me, his brow furrowed, “please, try to calm down for me. Would you like a glass of water maybe?”

My shoulders slump on a sigh, aware that I’m being ridiculous. I’m a grown woman, nothing special or different about my anatomy, but Dr. Reynolds is surprisingly attractive. Coupled with the sweet understanding in his eyes, such a gentle touch, and positively virile cologne—this appointment suddenly contains a whole other category of nerve-inducing factors.

I’d flush crimson and breathe rapidly if a hot guyapproached me in a grocery store, let alone one about to get up close and personal with my vagina.

Inhaling a steady breath through the nostrils and out, again through the nostrils only, I ease myself into a place of calmness. For how long, it’s hard to tell.

“I’m sorry, I’m fine.” I offer reassurance. “Carry on.”

“Alright, deep breath again for me.” He listens on my back and I use his instructions to settle myself further with each inhale. “Sounds good, now go ahead and lie down.”

“L-lie down?” I croak as he makes a note on my chart. Is this it? Have we reached the vagina inspecting stage already?

“Uh huh,” he hums in answer, concentrating on his writing.

My stomach rolls and knots as I reluctantly settle my back against the less than durable paper. My chest constricting, eyes bulging.Shit! Shit! Shit!My body is about to implode from the coil sprung so tight within me.

“Okay.” He’s up again moving towards me rubbing his large hands together.

With considerately warmed fingers, he gently grips the top of my robe and starts to pull it open. I must squeak outloud and not just in my head because he stills, looking directly in my eyes.

“I have to uncover your breasts to examine them.”

My hands shoot up, clutching the robe shut. “Right, I know, but I forgot I did an exam this morning, myself. They’re good, great actually. Two of ‘em, exactly where they should be. Round and everything, I swear.”

His cheeks redden as he fights a chuckle. “Medicine’s come a long way. We check for a bit more than that now.” He winks and my coil tightens in deeper places. “I need to make sure there’s no suspicious tissue activity or formation. You didn’t answer me clearly on whether you did regular breast exams on yourself before. When did you honestly do your last?”

Sneaky bastard—distracting me so I don’t notice my grip slackening or the fact that he’s uncovered my chest until the cold air hits my exposed nipples.Of course they harden to a tight bud. Pleasetell me all women’s do that at this part.

My focus is broken by the low hiss I hear. Was that me or…him?

Definitely him.Oh God, what?

“Nothing, everything’s fine,” his hoarse voice answers the question I didn’t realize I’d asked aloud. “Arm up.” He helps guide the limb above my head and then...places his fingers to the sensitive flesh of my left breast and begins to knead it, molding it in his skilled hands.

My eyelids slip shut on their own and I snap them back open instantly.He’s a doctor, it’s an exam, nothing more.

Maybe I should have considered having sex last night to prepare for today. With who I have no idea, but it may be of help right now. I squeeze my legs shut in mortification at the fact that arousal is ripping through my every fiber and sweltering in the paper robe.

Focus. Don’t squirm. Hell, don’t move or blink. Think natural, casual.The expression I muster of “this is totally natural for me” causes his mouth to tug up at the corners.Am I amusing him?

I’m crazy and completely overthinking this. I stare up at the ceiling. Could the lights in here be any brighter? It’s like being at the dentist, except my dentist is old and bald and smells like Ben-Gay.

Now I admit, albeit embarrassed, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel odd, yet…goodto have a feral-smelling,successful, gorgeous man groping—even medically—my breasts. But I don’t think I just imagined that. I could swear his fingertips trailed across, never losing contact, as he moved to the right one.

Which maybe that’s normal, perhaps they check for something in between them? Didn’t feel like that though, felt...teasing.

”And this arm,” he mumbles, voice deeper, once again moving it up for me. “Good, perfect.”

I finally manage the courage to steal a glance at him, his eyes clearly “examining” as well.

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