wolf and cat turning his leanness into hard lines. “You must have the most incredible metabolism,” she commented.
“Hard to take in too many calories, that’s for sure.”
Ripped. Strong. Shelley took his blood pressure and did all the routine checks as stoically as possible, but there was no way to stop him from scenting how turned on she was. His skin was hot under her fingers as she removed the blood pressure cuff from his biceps, and she fought to not linger as she held the stethoscope to his chest.
Sweet mercy, the hair on his chest was thicker than your average wolf—perhaps his cat nature coming to the fore. She imagined petting him, playing her fingertips through the soft curls. Working her way lower until—
It wasn’t professional of her to think that way. It wasn’t professional to be feeling any of the things she was feeling, but damn if she could stop herself.
She moved faster, rushing through the steps, trying to keep her focus on what she needed to do, which was not leaning over to lick him.
Not even once.
A strong grip wrapped around her wrist, trapping her in place.
“Shelley. Slow down. We should talk about this.”
“Talk about what?”
“This.”
He tugged her between his legs and lifted her chin as his lips covered hers.
It was oh, so wrong and oh, so right. Shelley let the stethoscope fall from her fingers and gave into the urge to press her fingers against his pelt and run her hands up his chest. He’d wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and controlled her, kissing her softly but insistently. His tongue stroking hers, lips teasing and demanding a response. They weren’t diminishing, they weren’t going away, the urges inside her.
But they also weren’t uncontrollable. It was lust, pure and simple, not a frantic mating urge, and that made her feel a little better. Maybe she’d kick her own ass in a few minutes, but for the next sixty seconds she was going to take this in and enjoy every second.
Hmm, she’d set the examination tables at the right height for her to check dogs, cats and other pets without having to stoop or lift up. That put his groin and hers nicely in line and as he kissed her—no, as she now kissed him, heat transferred between them in the most delightful way. He stroked her hair, his other hand slipping behind her back and pressing her against him. Her T-shirt could have evaporated for all the barrier it provided. Her nipples tightened, her sex ached for a touch. The only part of her body truly happy was her mouth because he tasted so. Damn. Good.
Shelley wiggled forward, just a teeny bit, and it wasn’t enough. She was ready to ignite, and he was the flame she’d been waiting for. He nibbled his way along her jaw, and she dug her fingernails into his shoulders.
His sudden gasp froze her in position. There was something sticky under her hand, and she realized she’d manhandled his injury.
“Oh Lordy, why didn’t you stop me?” Guilt jerked her into action as she spun from his grasp and basically threw herself behind him to see what damage she’d caused.
There were no words. More correctly, the words she wanted to say disappeared as she pulled her professionalism back into place, ready to accept his well-deserved rebuke. Four jagged lines tore down his back. Starting near his neck, they splayed toward his side, red, swollen and hot, and where she’d broken the scab, weeping.
“I’m so sorry.” She moved to grab antiseptic and cleaned the cuts as best she could. Chase didn’t say a word, but she was saying enough inside for the two of them.
Idiot. Not only had she crossed the line between a patient/doctor relationship, she’d been totally distracted in the first place. His medical history could have waited—she should have looked at his injury at the start.
Of course, this was the weird part of being a shifter who was a vet. It was assumed her human first-aid training in conjunction with the vet specialization made her a better