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The doctor is a tall, slim woman in her late forties or early fifties. She asks me a few questions, then instructs me to get up on the examination table. It’s not until my pants are off and my legs are up on the stirrups that I finally snap back to where I am.
I’m doing this for him. For me, too, obviously. I want to have safe sex. But I want something more with the Prince. I want intimacy. I want to feel his skin on mine.
I want a relationship. Not behind closed doors. Not hiding away in my office in the far corner of the castle. I want to be with Wolfe.
What if I never get it? What if Eyvar, Grandma, and the whole rest of the world are right, and this romance will end sooner rather than later?
The speculum is cold. I grimace as it cranks.
Then, the doctor makes a soft noise. She pops her head up between my knees, rolling her stool back to meet my eye. “We’ll need to do a blood test as well.”
“Why?” My voice is small. In this position, no matter how friendly the doctor is, I feel exposed and vulnerable. “Is everything okay?”
“Miss Reed,” she says, keeping her face neutral. “Is there any chance you might be pregnant?”
