Page 16 of Smitten Pucking Orc

“Um…sorry about that. I got caught up in something else.”

“Sit.” She gestured to the table.

I did as she asked while she studied me with her cool, assessing gaze. Her green eyes didn’t give anything away. She’d pulled her hair back in a low bun, but a few blonde curls had escaped at her temples and neck. She wore a blue blouse tucked into dark pants and low heels that added a tiny bit to her height, though she was probably only five-four. Very short when compared to an orc, though most humans were.

She looked competent and controlled.

Untouchable.

“How’s the pain today?” she asked.

“It’s fine.”

Her jaw tightened. “On a scale of one to ten.”

“Three.”

She made a note on her tablet. “Alright. Lie down.”

I didn’t move.

She waited, one eyebrow raised.

“On your back,” she said. “Unless you’d prefer I assess your spine instead.”

I found no humor in her voice.

I stretched back, the paper crinkling underneath me. One of the ceiling tiles had a stain in the left corner. I focused on that instead of the sound of her footsteps as she walked closer.

“I’m going to palpate the area,” she said. “Tell me if anything hurts.”

I nodded.

Her hands touched my hip.

My entire body locked up.

Her hands were warm. That was the first thing I noticed. They were smaller than mine, her fingers pressing carefully along the line of my hip flexor, finding the edge of the muscle.

She didn’t look at my face. Her eyes tracked her hands with a little furrow between her eyebrows.

“Relax,” she said.

Sure. Easy. I forced myself to breathe.

Her fingers moved lower, tracing the adductor down toward my inner thigh in a clinical, methodical way.

I was dying.

Every point of contact burned because it was her hands on me. She stood close enough that I could smell the soap or shampoo she used, a faintly floral scent.

She pressed down on a spot above my knee.

I didn’t react.

She moved higher. Pressed again.

Still fine.