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He’s looking at me like a bizarre specimen he can’t wait to cut into. “Hm.” His arm extends, giving the lever to the stirrups two more quick revolutions, forcing my thighs impossibly wider. I gasp at the strain, but if he hears it, he doesn’t care. “Patient has visible vaginal contusions,” he says, clearly meant more for the recording than me. His brows pull together as he inspects me.

As he inspectsit.

I’ve thought a lot about a man seeing my body for the first time. Fantasized. I’d prepared for it by waxing and cleaning and wearing pretty panties, but having one of my future lovers inspect my vagina with clinical precision is beyond what I could’ve imagined.

And the first touch is even worse. All those nights on the roof of the gym with the girls, listening to their stories about deft, pushy hands had given me an idea of what it might be like for a man to touch me down there for the first time. It’d have to be slow and sensual and thrilling, just like Laura said. It’d be electric. Mind blowing.

The reality is so disappointing that I blink back tears.

Lex’s cold, latex-covered fingers press into my folds, prodding me as if I were a corpse. Reaching for a package on the table, he rips it open and squeezes something clear and thick onto the tips of his fingers. “Applying a numbing lubricant,” he mutters.

I jump so hard at his touch that the whole table shakes. “It’s cold,” I rush to say, but it doesn’t matter. There’s a quick flick of his eyes up the length of my body, and then, shoulder shifting, he forces a slick finger into my hole. My body is wound so tightly that it’s a minor miracle he can get it in at all, but the more I tense up in anticipation of pain, the more I realize it’s not there.

For all his callousness and icy hands, Lex’s touch is indecently gentle.

He pauses there, finger buried inside me, and fixes his eyes to a spot on my inner thigh. “Just a moment for it to take effect,” he says. I don’t know who he’s talking to–me or the phone. Either way, the tight panic recedes to the edges of my awareness, ready to pour forth, but willing to wait for a reason.

The room is deathly quiet, nothing but my quick breaths filling the space between us, so I hear him move before I feel it, the latex of his gloves squelching as he moves his finger, sliding it out before pushing back in. The muscles in my thigh twitch, and I know he can see it, his gaze still fixed to the tendon where my legs meet my hips. His face is blank, but I can see it in his shoulder–the rocking motion as he pulls out, pushes in, pulls out, pushes in, out, in, out, in.

Is he…

Is hefingeringme?

Just as quickly as the thought arrives, he’s adjusting the lamp, looking bored. My face heats at the stupidity of even thinking it.

“Patient has minor swelling and evidence of light bleeding.” The numbing agent is working, and although I can feel him prodding around down there, forehead wrinkled pensively as he spreads my folds, the sting is absent. After some swabs and prodding, he goes on, “One… two shallow tears and hymenal transection. No scarring or evidence of past trauma. Recommended patient continue a regimen of pain reliever and sitz baths as needed.”

I’ve been here one day and the list of injuries to my body are as long as one of the Dukes after a particularly rough fight. I remain tense as he works, watching the skilled way he moves when he holds me open with one hand and casually discards one swab for a new one with his other hand. If I find myself examining him in return, then it’s only because it’s an effective distraction.

Lex has dark eyebrows that are perfectly arched. I imagine if he wanted to be more expressive, it wouldn’t take much to show it with his brow. He has a strong jaw that’s speckled with the shadow of what stubble could be if he left it for another day or two, and there’s a soft spot of color on the top of each cheek. Every now and then, when he ducks his head to get a closer look between my legs, this one particular lock of his auburn hair that’s escaped his careful, tied-back knot will force him to jerk his head to the side, flinging it away.

He’s… cute.

It’s the first time I’ve really had the thought. It’s not the big, flashy hotness his brother, Wicker, likes to flaunt around, nor is it the dark, compelling smolder of Pace. Although Lex has a cute face and the shoulders of his shirt are tight with the suggestion of muscles, Lex’s real attractiveness is inthis: The smooth, confident way he moves when he produces a needleless syringe, studying the contents intently before ducking his head again. He carries himself the same way he had on the dance floor, hypnotizingly precise.

“Just some pressure,” he says in a disinterested tone, arm shifting as something hard and cold slides into me.

I wince, eyes clenching, but then he makes a startling, gruff demand.

“Look at me.”

I blink my eyes open, meeting his gaze. His expression is unreadable, so I don’t know exactly why I feel so pinned down under the weight of his stare, but I know that I do. Something about it is unbearably acute, his eyes dark beneath heavy lids as his jaw tics.

Suddenly, I begin feeling… not pain. Not even pressure. Just an odd fullness of warmth in my center. My toes curl and uncurl as I endure it, and when the curve of his shoulder shifts, hand tossing the empty syringe onto the table, his eyes finally release me.

“It… stings a little.” Swallowing loudly in the stillness of the room, I ask, “What was that?”

He tosses a wad of gauze toward the trash can near the door. “My semen.”

My voice gets lodged in my throat and I have to struggle against it. “Yourwhat?”

“Like I said.” He shrugs. “There’s no room for error.”

“That’s disgusting,” I sputter, realizing that the warm slickness I feel inside ishim. “How did you… did you jerk off before coming in here?”

When he turns to jab the button on his phone to stop the recording, the backs of his ears are flushed. Come to think of it, he looked flush when he came in here. The thought of him jerking off just to shoot it into me with a syringe is somehow even colder than what happened to me last night, and that?

That’s saying a lot.