Page 41 of Devaney's Doctor Daddy

“Good girl.”

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and then re-assumed his persona as he walked her down the hall to the exam room where he saw little patients, the one where she’d been curled up in agony just over a week ago. My how things had changed. While he loved taking care of her, had loved the way she’d insisted on being close to him, this would be much more fun for both of them.

Not everything about love was fun—he got the impression from people he knew who’d been together for the long haul that it could be a lot of work, that it wasn’t something you chose once and snap it was done. It was a choice you made every day, even when the days were rough. But some of it? Like this game they were playing? Fun and joy and pleasure and intimacy and trust—it didn’t get much better than that.

She set her bag down on the chair in the corner and then stood, looking like a lone flower, flickering in a breeze. He waited a beat because anticipation could heighten feelings, and then took a thin cotton gown out of the cabinet, handing the light purple garment with clusters of flowers on it to her.

“You’re here for a complete physical including a pelvic exam so you can go ahead and get completely undressed and put that on.”

He turned to the counter and pretended to look through her chart and she made a little squeak.

“Um, Doctor Eric? Aren’t you going to leave while I change?”

Glancing over his shoulder before facing her fully, he put on one of his sterner expressions.

“I suppose I could but I’m a busy man, Miss Norfolk. You’re not my only patient today and I can assure you I’ve seen many, many bodies over my career. Nothing to be embarrassed about. And I know you wouldn’t want to inconvenience any of my other patients by making them wait any longer than necessary, now would you?”

Her cheeks flushed a darker pink and she shook her head. “No, Doctor. Of course not.”

“That’s what I thought. So be quick about it please.”

He turned back to the papers on the counter, and watched her out of the corner of his eye. Surely she was aware he could see her. Would be able to watch her strip off her clothes, and do that funny thing most of his female patients did…

Devy closed her eyes and took a deep breath before unbuttoning the cardigan she wore and draping it over the back of the chair. Then she unzipped her dress and pushed it over her hips until it hit the floor. Folded it neatly and set it on the seat of the chair before reaching for the gown.

He smirked but didn’t say anything. It amused him when people donned the johnny before taking their undergarments off because only a few minutes separated when they were getting undressed from when he’d be seeing and touching every inch of them but those moments seemed to be very important. He’d let them keep that particular delusion.

After she’d put the gown on and tied it at her neck and waist—sweet, proper girl—she took off her bra, slid it through one of the sleeves (why did that particular move never fail to get his blood pumping through his veins?), and then with all the subtlety she could muster, shimmied out of her panties. And then, as he knew she would, Devy tucked her bra and panties into the folds of her dress. Because sure, he was going to be literally looking inside her body momentarily but god forbid he see what color her underwear was. His male patients were much more likely to leave a heap of discarded clothing.

Then she perched on the edge of the exam table, her feet dangling over the side, knuckles white as she gripped the side.

“Ready? Then let’s get started.”

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