My cheeks flame at the knowledge that I’m seconds away from Dr. Bennett coming up close and personal with my vagina.
Hands gloved and ready for action, he shifts the edge of the blanket up a few inches as my knees press together.
“Take a deep breath,” Dr. Bennett murmurs. His tone is patient and kind and so freaking hot I should fan myself, but I keep my fists clenched around the scratchy cotton material. Staring up at the white ceiling, I do as I’m told and suck in as much oxygen as my lungs can hold.
His deep chuckle vibrates from his chest and hits me in all the right places as he instructs, “Now you have to let the air out, Marcy.”
My lips form a small ‘o’, releasing the air in a slow breath before I start the process all over again while refusing to look down at the swoon-worthy guy who’s between my legs right now.
“Alright, Marcy. Can you open your legs for me a little bit? Relax and let your knees fall apart?”
“Yup,” I squeak. With as much focus as I can muster, I pull up an image of an old guy with saggy balls, but it does nothing to erase Dr. Bennett’s touch. My muscles quiver as he slips his finger into me. He isn’t doing anything inappropriate. The person who deserves to be sued right now is me. I’m the problem. Me and my needy libido that has been dormant for way too long before insisting on making its appearance in the middle of a freaking pelvic exam.
His fingers probe my cervix, and I arch my back up a centimeter, if that, before digging my teeth into my lower lip to keep from gasping.
Do not. I repeat, do not orgasm while on this table, Marcy or so help me, I will die from embarrassment, I order.
I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten while my skin prickles with awareness.
“Alright.” His touch disappears. “You’re all finished. Everything looks good so far. Your cervix is normal, and everything is right where it should be. I’ll see you in a month for another check-up, okay?”
Avoiding his eyes, I focus on his hands as he removes his gloves. When I notice the worn silver band around his ring finger on his left hand, my brows furrow.
“You’re married?” I blurt out. How the hell didn’t I notice that before? And I thought Dylan said––
“I’m sorry?” he asks before tossing the used gloves into the garbage can while studying me carefully.
“Nothing.” I want to slap my forehead but restrain myself and scramble to change the subject. “Thanks for today and for being so accommodating with Anthony and Sway. I know it’s a little unconventional, especially for a small town. I really appreciate it.”
Glancing down at his left hand, he hesitates before squeezing the back of his neck. “Anytime. See you in a month, Marcy Holden. Take it easy.”
“I will.”
Then he leaves me alone with Tracey who’s knowing smile makes me wanna smack her. “You can get dressed now. Once you’re ready, go up front to make your next appointment.”
“Okay. I’ll do that. Thanks.”
“And don’t worry,” she keeps her voice low. “Dr. Bennett is used to those kinds of reactions. At least your husband wasn’t in the room, right? Now that’s awkward. Have a good one.”
She walks out of the room like she didn’t just give me a heart attack while I sit frozen on the exam table for a solid five minutes before convincing myself to get dressed.
I’m gonna kill Dylan.
3
Marcy
“You didn’t tell me he looked like a damn popsicle on a hot summer day,” I growl into my cell.
Dylan’s laugh echoes through the speaker. “I told you he was a babe.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t mention how freaking lickable he is.”
“I know, huh? It’s a good thing Grady is also lickable, but I feel bad for the husbands who aren’t firefighters because they gotta be jealous of Dr. Hottie and his gorgeous face.” I can practically hear the smile in her voice as she mentions her husband, Grady, and I don’t blame her.
He’s definitely lickable, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. When he got roped into modeling for a firefighter calendar a few years ago, the entire town was raving about the guy. He was the star of the show.
“Yeah, well, you also failed to mention he’s married,” I emphasize the word as if it’s a curse.
“What?”
“He had on a ring, Dyl.”
“Well yeah, but––”
“Nope.” I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “I don’t wanna hear it. Besides, even if he didn’t have a ring, it would be weird to date my doctor no matter how lickable he is. And I’m not even looking to date anyone, anyway. I mean…a solid booty call would be nice, but that’s about all the commitment I can handle right now, and I blame the stupid hormones for that too.”
“Are you even allowed to have a booty call? Since, ya know, it’s not your kid? Aren’t they worried about STDs and stuff? I know I’ve asked you this before, but you didn’t answer me. And now that you’ve seen Dr. Bennett, I’m going to go ahead and assume you can see why I’m curious about the parameters.”
“Dammit! I forgot about the parameters.” I stick my lower lip out. “No sex for this girl unless I’m in a committed relationship, and he’s willing to get tested, which would be a lil’ bit awkward to bring up on the first date. Hey, I’m pregnant with someone else’s kid. Would you mind taking an STD test before we get to the boinking part?”
Snorting, Dylan clarifies, “Boinking? I’m sorry, when was the last time you had sex?”
“Too long ago,” I admit. “And it was crappy too. Wes Winters––”
“Ew. He’s the worst.”
“He really is. Gave me a complex as soon as we were finished, and I haven’t been willing to do the whole one-night stand thing ever since. Needless to say, he left a bad taste in my mouth.”
“You and me both. Wes is an ass.”
“Remember when Grady punched him, though? Pretty sure all the girls in Sunnyville were sending their approval and virtual high-fives.”
She laughs. “Glad he could be of service.”
“Mmmhmm.”
“Ya know, even though you can’t have any booty calls, you can still daydream, right?”
“I guess. Or maybe I’ll just download a dating app and can peruse the lack of options to help remind me that I’m better off alone, anyway.”
“That’s the spirit. I gotta pee. This baby is doing somersaults on my bladder, but I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“See ya, Dylan. Tell Grady hi for me.”
She yells at someone from her end before she replies to me, “He says hi and that I look like a goddess in the maternity photos. You’re the best.”
“And don’t you ever forget it. Talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
The call goes dead.
Pursing my lips, I collapse onto my bed and open the app store on my phone. The Birds and Bees dating app, eh? I read a few reviews before nodding my approval.
“Alright, B&B app, let’s see whatcha got,” I mumble under my breath.