Page 38 of Doctor I Do

I should read my finance book instead of studying his body.

He’s a tease.

Yet, he doesn’t give a fuck that he’s distracting me by only wearing pants.

I suspected he was solid muscle, but all the times I’ve seen him half-naked confirmed it. And it’s the right amount of muscle, not too big to imply he lives at a gym, but the type that says he takes care of himself. The perfect shape.

Living with a man I want to kiss again is dangerous. What’s even worse is moments like this. He tests my resilience.

He moves from the counter and saunters into the laundry, and I continue to chew on the end of my pen as I enjoy the image of his broad back disappearing into the room. His tapered waist and his tight ass in those pants make me twitch.

Once he is safely out of my sight, I return to the page I was on and get back to writing notes.

A crash sounds and I jump. My body is still worked up and on edge from seeing the hard lines trailing down into his pants. Is he doing this on purpose?

Unable to concentrate while he’s near, I stare at the open door of the laundry room.

“Where are you going? I ask.

“Work,” he calls out.

I shake my head for asking the obvious. Where else would he be going dressed in suit pants?

I’m going to blame his sexiness for making me dumb right now. Yeah, that’s it.

Another bang sounds in the laundry. What the heck is he doing in there? I get up and take a deep, steadying breath. Then I cross to the laundry room, trying to prepare myself for the sight of him shirtless. If that’s even possible.

“What are you doing in here? Murdering the washing machine?” I try to hold back a laugh from my own lame joke, but a small one slips past my lips.

He turns toward me with amusement on his face. His hand gestures to the dryer. “I think this is broken.”

“Why?” I stare at the white shirt he’s holding. It looks dry to me.

He peers down at the fabric and then back at me. “The creases are still there.”

I roll my lips to stop the laugh that’s bubbling inside my chest.

“What?” He gruffs with a frown.

“You need an iron to get creases out.”

His brows pinch tighter together. “Right. Where is one?”

I pull on all the cabinet doors to look inside. So far, coming up empty.

I peer over my shoulder to find him staring at me with fascination. The heat returns to my face. “Who normally irons your shirts?” I ask, still trying to locate the iron.

“My housekeeper, but she was busy this week.”

“And you thought you could do it yourself?” I tease.

I finally find the white iron in the cabinet to the far left and pull it out.

“This is an iron.” I hold it up to show him.

“Okay, let’s plug it in.”

I shake my head. “You need to make sure it has water in it first.”

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