Page 34 of Speechless
She reached for him as he walked into the room, missed. Brow furrowed, she eyed the table, the counters, the cupboards. Nothing jumped out to stab her. Breathless, her toes edged over into the room.
Connor hummed her song as he did something that had the computer humming to life. He bent over the desk rather than sit in the chair, and Jenna watched him rifle through some papers, set them aside.
She made it another inch.
He moved along the counter, checking drawers and cupboards. He seemed happy, competent. Humming away so the lyrics joined in inside her head, drawing her to him.
Before she knew it, she was standing beside the exam table. Biting her lip, her hands throttling each other in the hem of the T-shirt so the shaking wouldn’t show.
“Well now, someone’s a brave girl this morning.”
The pride and pleasure in his voice was as effective as a caress of his hand. She glanced at the door, wondering if she’d been too hasty in her decision, but Connor was there. Her eyes closed as his lips touched her forehead.
“Brave girls get a treat. Can you take the shirt off while I get you a treat, Jenna?” So persuasive, the smoothness of his voice, the gentleness of his tone. Persuasive without demanding pressure.
Jenna fumbled with the hem, untangling her fingers from the material. Her wounds grumbled when she lifted it over her head, but the pain was hardly enough to complain about. She stood stiffly, cuddling the shirt, unsure what she should do next.
“Jesus, you amaze me. Do you have any idea how fucking proud I am of you right now, baby?” Connor stared at her, eyes dark with undecipherable emotions. “Don’t think I don’t understand how much trust you have in me to do this, Jenna. It humbles me.”
She shifted nervously, unused to praise.
“One more thing I’d like you to do for me, okay? Just one, and it won’t hurt.” He stepped closer, obviously gauging her reaction, and she mournfully handed over the shirt. “Not that, baby, but thank you. You can have it back in a minute. I just want you to hop up on the table for me.”
She wanted the shirt back. Her toes flexed into the floor, her fingers knotted into each other. Could she have the shirt back? Reaching for it, she gave him a pleading look.
Fingertips brushed her temple, tucked her hair back. She leaned into the touch, into the spread of his palm as he cradled her head. And felt the shirt nudge her linked hands.
“Trust is rewarded, Jenna.”
She sighed. Hesitating seemed unfair when he was so patient with her. Hating the table was less important than pleasing Connor. Trusting Connor was easier than breathing.
Breaking away from his touch hurt. Gripping the material in her hands, Jenna edged to the table, sucked in a deep breath. The surface was cold on her front as she leaned over it, wiggled onto the hard, black surface. That sensation of vulnerability washed over her. Naked, facedown, her nerves simmered on low boil.
Connor crouched in front of her. “Five minutes, beautiful, and we’re done. Close your eyes, breathe, and relax. I’m so, so proud of you.” He kissed her fingers, slipped a lollipop between them, and winked. “Brave girls, remember?”
She held onto the lollipop as he disappeared from view. She shivered in the chilly air, jolted when heavy warmth draped over her legs, her butt. Relaxed under the butterfly kiss of fingertips over her skin.
Flesh ached when Connor prodded carefully at stitched wounds. No pain, just the discomfort of healing skin. Soon the itching would start, and she knew just how irritating that was.
He touched a spot near her spine. Heat flared, spread up into her head, speared down between her thighs. Her hips arched sharply, and she blushed as she grew damp.
“Must be a happy place right there,” Connor chuckled. He didn’t touch there again, but the blush only deepened. “Baby, it’s a natural reaction. The nervous system is interconnected, and everyone has an erogenous zone or two hardwired into them.”
She buried her face in her arms.
The front door opened, shut. “Morning, boss!”
Oh no. Suddenly mortified, even though Sarah had already seen her this way, Jenna groped back for the blanket. Connor stilled her hand. “Morning, Sarah. We’re in the exam room, would you mind waiting there for a minute?”
“Ah…sure?” A brief pause, then a sunny, “Want me to put the coffee on?”
“Yeah, that’d be good, thanks.” Connor tapped Jenna’s hand until she released the blanket. “That’ll take her a couple minutes, baby. I want to put some cream on these wounds. Are you okay with Sarah coming in if I’m not finished?”
He didn’t patronize her, didn’t make her feel like an idiot for a moment of uncertainty. Jenna couldn’t have loved him more in that instant. She was being silly, after all. Sarah had seen her, all of her, and didn’t think any less of her, did she? It wasn’t the earth-shattering issue she expected.
Jenna nodded slowly, settled back down. Closed her eyes as music whispered into the room. Laid there, Connor’s fingers dabbing cool cream on hot, uncomfortable wounds, she relaxed. The song went around and around, building inside her.
Building to a pinnacle.