She looked at the man walking in front of her, the meticulously arranged dark suit he wore and the obvious musculature that was barely restrained beneath it. Her stomach grew queasy with butterflies as she openly gawked, not even hiding it. The only thing that stopped her from running back to her room was the cold indifference that wafted from him in frigid waves; she was thankful for it because if he were a charmer, she might’ve been lured in.
Somehow, her skin warmed up despite the rapidly chilling temperature that only fell lower as they walked further into the building.
They stopped at a door.Only him?The flutter in her belly vanished as reality sank in.
She was in a daze as he typed in a code and a laser flashed over his face. The door opened shortly after. The medical lab revealed itself in all its pomp and sterile circumstantial glory.
He was her doctor. The handsome asshole was her fucking doctor.
Reid led her from the hallway and into a small private space, no different than a number of surgical labs she’d been in before except for the streamlined technology that assembled into one jumble: an expensive room with an extensive history of pain. But all she could really focus on was the cushy cryo-pod that took up a third of the room.
The pod she was soon to be lying on with him hovering over her.
Reality was such a nasty bitch.
Somehow, Clara knew that this moment was going to stay with her for a very, very long time. Even if it weren't a pivotal point where she took control of her life, it would remain erect as a precariouslywrongsituation. She glanced between the dangerously attractive man and the prominent oval medical bed.
Her mind wandered to all the wrong places.I’ve always had problems wanting the wrong men.
She already knew the answer to her question but she asked it anyway, “You're my doctor?”
He didn't turn to face her. Instead, he pulled off his jacket in such a mechanically indifferent way that she wanted to watch him shed all of his clothes off just to see if his control and authority went to all aspects of his life.
She pressed her legs together and hated herself for it.
“Yes, Ms. Warren, I am. Does that bother you?”
The door behind her shut, startling her. Once again she wished for the dog.
It does bother me, asshole. But it didn’t stop her from watching him step into a glass enclosure in the corner that sterilized his hands and clothing. Their eyes met through the glass.
“No. It doesn't bother me.” She pulled her gaze away from his and rejoiced in her small victory. Her hands clenched at her sides and sweat coated her palms.I can do this. I'm safe here. I'm safe with him. A Cyborg doctor would never botch this. He’s done this before.
Don’t freak out.
Exhilaration slithered through her.
It's really happening.
Her lips lifted. Her hands slid over her belly and its soft rounded curve to rub the spot where her scars were. Her wariness vanished, and suddenly she wanted to jump up and down and scream to the skies and move on with her life.
“Are you okay?”
Yes!“Yes, I'm more than okay.” She didn't try to suppress her smile and was taken aback when the Cyborg flashed her one in return.
“I guess my excitement is catching,” she laughed. He turned away and slipped on a pair of gloves.
“It is, and if you're ready we can get this over with.”
Clara nodded and wanted to dance.Afterward, she told herself.Once I'm healed, I'll dance the night away where no one can see me.
Next, Dr. Canis helped her into the same sterilization chamber, his eyes locked on hers as a gaseous mist coated her skin and clothes. When it cleared and the chamber reopened, he gave her a plastic-sealed medical shift to put on. He then donned a crisp white lab coat.
She moved to the corner, turned her back, and began to peel out of her clothes.
A cough sounded behind her. “I can leave.”
Clara didn't care; her giddiness and the nearness of her goals were at the forefront of her thoughts, not the handsome man who was locked with her in the medical lab.
