Chapter 3

　　Elara

　　"Remove your clothing," he said calmly.

　　It took me exactly one second to recognize him. Not from his face, but from his voice.

　　That same low, controlled tone that had existed in the hotel room—steady even in moments that should have carried chaos. My brain rejected the possibility first, because it was easier than accepting it.

　　No. It couldn't be him.

　　My eyes widened with what he said. "Everything?"

　　He nodded. "For a proper examination."

　　The fact that he sounded completely unaffected somehow made the embarrassment worse.

　　I sat frozen on the edge of the examination bed for a second too long while he calmly pulled on black gloves like this was just another normal appointment.

　　Meanwhile, I felt like my entire nervous system was malfunctioning.

　　"You're hesitating," he said, his gaze lifted briefly to mine. "I can step outside for a minute if that makes you more comfortable."

　　The offer sounded polite, but something about the look in his eyes made me suspicious that he already knew I wouldn't take it.

　　"That won't magically make this less humiliating," I muttered.

　　A faint trace of amusement crossed his face before disappearing again. "Fair point."

　　Heat crawled up my neck as I slowly removed my clothing beneath the paper drape. Every small movement felt painfully loud in the quiet room.

　　This is medical, I reminded myself again.

　　Unfortunately, my body refused to cooperate with logic.

　　"Lie back," he instructed gently once I settled under the sheet.

　　I obeyed, staring hard at the ceiling while he stepped closer. The examination bed crinkled softly beneath me as I shifted nervously.

　　"You look tense," he said.

　　"I wonder why," I replied, trying my best not to roll my eyes.

　　"Mhm." His tone turned thoughtful. "And here I was hoping it was because you found me attractive."

　　I turned my head toward him in disbelief. "Do you always flirt with patients during examinations?"

　　"Only the memorable ones."

　　My face burned instantly. God, this man was impossible.

　　He adjusted the light above me slightly before speaking again, his voice calmer now. "Tell me if anything hurts."

　　"Okay," I croaked.

　　His gloved hand brushed lightly against my inner thigh and my breathing immediately caught. His eyes flicked upward to mine.

　　"There it is again," he murmured.

　　"What?"

　　"That reaction."

　　I gripped the edge of the bed tighter. "You're imagining things."

　　"No." His tone stayed smooth and dangerously calm. "You stop breathing every time I touch you."

　　Humiliation hit me so fast I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. "You're enjoying this way too much."

　　"I enjoy honesty." His gaze lingered on my face for a second too long. "Your body's much more honest than you are."

　　My stomach tightened unexpectedly. The worst part was that he never sounded openly inappropriate. Everything he said stayed balanced perfectly between professional and suggestive, like he knew exactly how far he could push before I snapped at him.

　　"Does this hurt?" he asked softly, pressing a finger inside my thigh, near my private part—where it actually hurt.

　　"A-A little."

　　"A little?" His voice carried quiet amusement. "You looked ready to fight me five minutes ago."

　　"That's because you're annoying."

　　"That's not what your pulse says."

　　I stared at him. "You can tell that from here?"

　　"I'm a doctor, Elara." A faint smirk touched his mouth. "Observation is literally my job."

　　The way he said my name made my heartbeat worse instead of better.

　　He continued the examination with steady focus, movements controlled and careful despite the teasing edge in his voice. And somehow that made the entire situation more dangerous, not less.

　　Because underneath the sarcasm and calm professionalism, there was still something sharp in the way he looked at me. As if he already knew exactly how affected I was and found it entertaining.

　　Then finally, after what felt like forever, he stepped back and removed his gloves slowly. "The inflammation is consistent with irritation from recent activity," he said calmly.

　　I wanted to disappear immediately.

　　"I'll prescribe medication," he continued, already reaching for his prescription pad. "And no sex until it heals."

　　My face turned hot all over again.

　　"A few days minimum," he added casually. "Unless you enjoy suffering unnecessarily."

　　"You say things in the worst way possible."

　　"And yet," he replied smoothly while writing, "I'm still correct."

　　I sat up quickly and pulled my clothes back on with embarrassing speed.

　　"You can relax," he said without looking up. "I'm done examining you."

　　"That's reassuring now."

　　A quiet laugh escaped him this time. And somehow that affected me more than the flirting did.

　　When he handed me the prescription, our fingers brushed briefly. "Take the medication twice daily," he said.

　　I nodded quickly and stood. "Is that all?"

　　His gaze settled on me one last time. "Yes, Miss Green."

　　I left the room so fast it was almost humiliating.

　　But somehow, I still felt his eyes on me even after the door closed behind me.

　　**

　　"This is so embarassing," I told myself under my breath. "Fuck, Elara. Why are you so careless?"

　　I stopped near the curb to hail a cab. When I was about to get my phone on my bag, I froze. My bag wasn't at my shoulder.

　　"No," I muttered.

　　I forgot it in that doctor's clinic.

　　Frustration replaced embarrassment almost instantly. As much as I hated to go back, I have no choice. I turned toward the hospital, already annoyed with myself for everything that had happened in the last twenty minutes.

　　And that was when a car stopped directly in front of me. The window rolled down, and there he was. The annoying doctor. Dr. Blackwood.

　　He looked at me like this was normal. Like he wasn't the reason my entire day felt unstable.

　　"Elara Green," he said again.

　　My name sounded different outside the hospital. It sounded less clinical and more personal. My heart jumped sharply in response, and I hated that it did.

　　I straightened instinctively. "What?"

　　His gaze didn't change. "You left your bag," he said simply. "...in my hospital bed."

　　I pressed my lips together with the way he put stress on the last sentence.

　　Great, this is great.