Page 39 of Doctor I Do

He scratches his head, but watches me check the water-fill line. He’s so close, it makes my pulse race, so I step away from his magnetism.

“It’s good,” I say, sounding a little breathy as I open the large cupboard and find the ironing board. I pull it out and bring it to the middle of the room. He doesn’t move, and it causes my ass to brush against him. Memories of us dancing hit me, making it hard to breathe. The air feels thick, as if I’m in a sauna.

I force myself to keep my eyes off his chest and open the board, concentrating on the task at hand and not on him. His eyes don’t stray from me and my body is so hot, I could probably use it to iron his shirt.

“Thanks for helping me,” he says.

“No problem,” I say, laying the shirt on the board.

“I can take it from here,” he says, but I shake my head at him.

“Maybe you should watch me first.”

He smirks. “That, I can do.”

And he does. He moves closer, too close, and watches me with his hands settled on his hips.

Thankfully, I don’t burn any holes in his shirt with my shaky hands. Once I’m done, I unplug the iron, and he shrugs his shirt on. As I watch him dress, my feet automatically step toward him. I help him with his buttons. My knuckles brush the ripples of his abs underneath, confirming they are, in fact, hard as steel.

“I’ll do the ironing for you,” I offer, keeping my eyes on my shaky fingers.

“You would?” he asks. “Why?”

“I live here, and I enjoy ironing. It's relaxing.” I finish the last button at the collar and he swallows hard. The same desire to lick his neck slams into me. I fight the urge, though. But his neck veins and Adam's apple are captivating me.

He points to where I was ironing, breaking my dirty fantasy. “That is what you find relaxing?”

I shrug. “Yeah, so?”

He shakes his head. “You’re quite unusual.” His lips twist in a slow, amused smile.

“Thanks. Now I can go back to studying.” I say, tipping my head back to find his fixed glare. I turn before he can stop me and wander back out to where there can be more space between us. A whole kitchen counter, in fact.

“What are you reading?” he asks, following me.

“Finance,” I answer.

We stare at each other a beat and then he says, “I won’t distract you any longer.” He gives me a crooked, knowing smile and leaves to head back upstairs.

He knows exactly what he did to me. But the prickles on my skin were hidden underneath my clothes and the ache between my thighs wasn’t visible. So how did he know?

He didn’t. I’m clearly becoming delusional living here.

A few minutes later, he leaves for work and I go back to reading and making notes. After a while, I take a break and call Alice to check in.

“Hello,” she answers after a couple of rings.

“Hi. Is it a bad time to talk?” I ask. Not having kids myself means I don’t know when the best time to call is. I’ll call to check in when I can and she can always tell me to call back another time.

“No. Great, actually. I popped Ethan down for a nap.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m tired and my nipples are sore from feeding, but other than that, I’m good.”

“Alice, that sounds awful and not something to feel good about. Maybe check in with your doctor.” I laugh as the words leave my lips and so does she.

“Oh, don’t worry. Mike is loving being a doctor for me.”

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