Page 28 of The Heart We Guard
Gently, I put my arm over her shoulder but don’t apply any weight. It’s hard to describe the appeal of Dr. Greer Hansen. Everything I said over dinner the previous night was true. And that kiss? The right side of perfection. And yet, she seems more interested in what I said than the feel of my lips on hers.
“So, if I get naked?”
“I’ll check out your injury again. I’ll asses the wound to see if there are any signs of underlying infection that will make it impossible for the wound to heal up without further treatment or antibiotics. I’ll ensure there’s appropriate blood flow and no sign of necrosis. And then?—”
“I get it, Doc,” I say. “I’m nothing but a bag of skin and bones.”
“That’s not true,” she says as she drops behind me as we go up the stairs.
I cling to the handrail, letting it do the bulk of the work in helping me up the stairs. “Thank God for that. Was starting to think you didn’t see me.”
“No. I was going to say you’re skin, bones, connective tissue, muscle, vital organs, and a whole heap of carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, and phosphorous.”
I shake my head in mock despair.
“Oh! And water. You’re a lot of water, and protein, and fats and?—”
“Shut up, Doc.”
She grins up at me but rubs circles on my back. “Let’s get you in the shower, mister cranky-pants.”
The bathroom needs modernizing but is perfectly serviceable. And best of all, has a drain in the floor so I don’t even have to step into a shower tray.
“Would you do better if you had a chair to sit on?” Greer asks.
“I might be older than you, but I’m not that old.”
She shakes her head. “I just meant it might be easier, less tiring if you’re seated.”
“How old are you, anyway?” I ask.
“Thirty-six. You?”
“Forty-five.”
“Hmm,” she says in a way that’s impossible to interpret.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“Oh, nothing. Just putting the pieces together. When I first saw you, I guessed you were late thirties. Whatever workouts and skin care you do must offset your nicotine habit and reckless lifestyle.”
I can’t help laughing. “Doc, only you could deliver such a backhanded compliment.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“See, you said my workouts and skin care must be good to offset the damage. And you guessed I’m younger than my age,which is a compliment.” I slide my hand beneath the hem of the T-shirt, lifting it as I go. “Am I vain? Sure as fuck I am. I work out to maintain the kind of tight figure I like. And being fit is good in my line of work. Never know when you might need to fight or run. Want to be able to do both.”
Greer’s eyes follow my hand, and she bites down on her lip. “Fine, you have a very well-developed transversus abdominis.”
“A well-developed what?”
“It’s the correct term for the V-shaped muscles that dip, well…down.” She gestures in the general vicinity of my jaded cock. And the sucker that he is, he starts to stiffen at the scrutiny. Watching Greer Hansen wave those long fingers in the direction of my zipper, like she’s casting some kind of spell, is my catnip.
I go to lift the T-shirt over my head and immediately wince and release it.
“Let me help you?” Greer says immediately.
But the challenge is obvious. She’s too short and I’m too tall, so I do the only thing I can think of. I use the vanity to support me as I kneel in front of her.
