‘This is my true calling. Delivering you like a pizza to your smoking hot doctor for a mid-morning booty call. You lucky, lucky bitch.’
‘I’m sorry getting me to meetings on time and helping me run my global empire hasn’t been professionally fulfilling for you all these years.’ I examine myself in my hand mirror. I’m flushed already, pupils dilated. I’ll do. Noah seemed to like what he saw in there.
Noah is under instructions to buzz me in rather than meeting me at the front door. God knows which filthy rags have their guys trailing me today. I ring his bell and he buzzes me straight in. I make for the first floor, heart thumping at the significance of being here, in this unfamiliar building, for one sole purpose.
He’s standing at the door to his flat and my entire nervous system signalsdanger. His arm is slung up on thedoor frame in my favourite stance, and around his neck lies a stethoscope. He rakes his eyes up and down my body and flashes me a smile. It’s not his usual Noah smile; it’s professional and a little arrogant. Only his eyes give him away. They’re shining with admiration, and desire, and excitement.
‘Ms Chapman? I’m Dr Thierry. Come in, please.’
So we’re in character already. Whew. I’m sweating. Gone is the famished Noah of a quarter of an hour ago, and in his place is a slick stranger. This is hot beyond belief. I’ve done a little light role play with Jackson in the past, but nothing like this. But I spent years in front of the camera. I can do this.
‘Thank you, Doctor.’ I sweep past him imperiously, the corners of my mouth twitching.
He has a seriously nice flat. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but the living room in front of me is immaculate. Whoever did this interior is a professional with an excellent eye for colour.
The door shuts behind me with a definitive click. Noah grazes his fingers up my back before coming around to face me. His gaze sweeps over my face and he gives me a beautiful Noah smile before whisperingyou okay?
I’m more than okay. I nod, and his tone turns professional again.
‘Excellent. Come through to my consulting room, why don’t you.’
I follow him down a corridor to his bedroom. My relentless aesthetic sense hones in on the fabulous duck-egg-blue walls complemented by hints of raspberry in the soft furnishings, while my nervous system clocks the huge wooden bed and ratchets my heart rate up a notch.
‘So.’ He eyes me and pulls the stethoscope off his shoulders, weighing it in his hands. ‘What seems to be the problem, Ms Chapman?’
He’s inches away, and he’s so gorgeous, and while his tone is even, he’s staring at me like he wants to devour me.
I raise my chin. ‘I’ve been feeling very… tense recently. Uptight. I need some help to relax.’
He raises his eyebrows. ‘I see.’
I warm to my theme. ‘I’m a TV presenter, you see. A morning news anchor. I interview powerful men every day, but I have no outlet for my stress. I thought a doctor might be able to help me find a—release.’
His eyes widen. ‘I’m confident I can help you with that. I’ll need to remove your dress so I can conduct a thorough physical examination.’
I swallow. ‘That will be fine.’
Noah circles me like a lion stalking its prey before stopping behind me and gathering my hair over one shoulder. And then the zip lowers, down, down, as air hits my skin. It drags over my arse and Noah blows out slowly and utters a barely audiblefuck.
I smile to myself. He’ll have spotted the cappuccino-coloured lace backs of my bra and thong, then.
He gets the dress open the entire way and runs his hands lightly over my bare waist and down my hips before guiding the dress off over my shoulders. He chucks it on the bed, and seconds later, the shock of cold metal hits my shoulder blade.
‘Deep breath in,’ Noah orders against my ear. I obey, of course.
‘Good.’ He repeats the process on the other side before removing the stethoscope. A moment later, it’s on the inside of my thigh, heading north, and I gasp.
‘Encouraging pulse here.’ His voice beneath me is a drawl as he slides the instrument right up so it’s almost grazing the strip of lace that is my thong. He brushes a knuckle over the fabric and I whimper and widen my stance. I’m still in my heels, and my legs are already trembling. Really trembling. Adelicious slick of anticipation rolls over me—he’s seriously in character, and it’s incredibly hot.
He pulls the metal away and then he’s in front of me, checking out my La Perla with hungry eyes. The stethoscope’s earpieces are in his ears and he slides the metal part across one breast, teasing the lace edge of my bra cup.
‘Quite an elevated heart rate,’ he murmurs. He holds the lace away from my breast and slips the metal disc into my cup so it hits my nipple. Heavenly cold. I gasp and clutch his gorgeous, hairy forearm.
‘Noah.’
‘You have to let me do my job, Ms Chapman.’ He allows me the ghost of a smile, but his beautiful brown eyes tell me everything I need to know. He’s as into this as I am. ‘We’re going to test your body’s responsiveness next. Close your eyes, please.’
This man can do anything he wants to me. I’m putty in his hands—I have an inkling I’ll nail the responsiveness test. My nipples are crying out for his touch and my pulse is raging between my legs—he was correct on that front.
