Page 14 of Prescription for Sin

“Since I am,” he echoed, watching her fingers trace the line of her collarbone with unwanted fascination. The lie sat heavy in his gut, even as his body responded. Gone was her clinical demeanour, replaced by something softer and simmering.

“Unless,” she said quietly, “you find me too cold. Too…analytical.”

He looked at her then, really looked. The candlelight softened her features, caught the slight parting of her lips. His physician’s mind catalogued her quickened breath, the flush across her chest. But it was the man in him that noticed how her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

“You’re anything but cold, Miss Brown.”

Her eyes darkened at his tone. “Then why do you hesitate?”

Because I’m lying to you, he thought. Because every moment I spend with you makes it harder to remember why I’m here. Aloud, he said, “Because some things shouldn’t be studied. They should be felt.”

“Then make me feel them. Just for seven days, and you can consider your debt paid.”

She was like a dog with a bone, but the part that craved her was glad. Perhaps this was the least he could do for a woman who had saved him, for a woman whose career he must destroy.

Everett sighed. “Very well. Let me propose an alternative to your…approach.”

Her eyes brightened as she leaned forward. “I’m listening.”

“Seven days. Seven different sensations. Each building upon the last.” He leaned forward. “But no note taking. No clinical observations. You must experience each sensation fully.”

“Seven types of pleasure, but no note taking? How else shall I remember the effects?”

“Trust me, Miss Brown. If done properly, you won’t forget.”

Colour rose in her cheeks as she inquired eagerly, “And what are these sensations?”

“Sight. Scent. Sound. Light touch. Taste. Temperature. And finally…” He let the words trail off meaningfully.

“Deep touch,” she finished, her voice barely a whisper.

“Do you accept these terms?”

She met his gaze steadily. “When do we begin?”

“Tomorrow. I’m still too lethargic to perform anything properly, thanks to you.”

“Is there anything I should do to prepare?”

"Miss Brown, passion can't be scheduled like your hospital rounds. Therefore, our experiment is already at a disadvantage." Everett rose from the bed, aware of how his state of undress—clad only in white trousers—might affect her composure. He leaned toward her conspiratorially, grasping the bedpost with one hand, pleased to see her cheeks flush at his proximity.

"You should prepare never to be the same again. Once you've experienced it, you shall yearn for it all your life." He held her gaze, allowing a knowing smirk to play across his lips. He dropped his voice low, letting the words resonate between them. "I hope, for your sake, you'll soon have a lover who can satisfy your appetite."

Her slight movement forward caught his gaze, the way she unconsciously drew closer. She had touched him professionally during examinations, yet somehow this careful distance between them felt more intimate than any clinical contact. The thought amused him greatly.

Chapter six

Sight

The morning after Emma's nocturnal encounter, she found herself uncharacteristically distracted during his wound examination. Each time her fingers brushed his skin, memories of moonlit muscle threatened her composure.

"The healing is progressing well," she managed, proud of how steady she kept her voice despite her racing pulse.

"Your treatments are most effective." The rich timbre of his voice seemed designed to shatter her professional demeanour. "Though you seem rather preoccupied this morning."

"I'm simply ensuring the stitches are holding properly." She focused intently on the wound, refusing to acknowledge how his proximity affected her breathing.

"Ah. And does such medical scrutiny usually bring such lovely colour to your cheeks?"