Page 70 of No Asylum Here

I wanted this, and I had no doubt it was written all over my face.

“Are you ready to start, Dr. Beckett?” He practically purred my name, like it was the tastiest thing he’d ever had in his mouth.

With my eager nod, he chuckled. “That’s my girl. Now, call the nurse. Ask her to bring another cup of coffee. I haven’t had it in forever.”

I blinked. Was that it?

With a dazed nod, I reached for my desk phone. Just as I began to dial the nurse’s station, he added, “Oh, and have her bring you a speculum, Doc. We’re going to need that.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Tuesday

Tension simmered through the room the moment I hung up the phone. Mal appeared to revel in my discomfort, if his smug expression had anything to say about it.

“While we wait, kick off your panties.”

I hesitated for a moment before reaching beneath my skirt to slide my panties down my legs, stepped out of them and placed them on my desk. “There.”

My core clenched at the knock on my office door.

I cast Mal a nervous glance.

“Go on. Answer it,” he ordered, his deep timbre giving me goosebumps.

He looked positively deadly with that wolfish smirk lurking behind his mask. Despite the straitjacket, the chains and the numerous straps and padlocks holding him in place, he oozed the confidence of a man who knew he was in control.

I hedged toward the door, my hand freezing in midair as I reached for the brass doorknob. “Wait. What if it’s Rook?” The thought of the facility director popping in unexpectedly filled me with dread.

“It’s not.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He fell quiet for a beat. Then sighed, as if annoyed that he had to explain. It cut into his hour. “When he approaches, I feel it like a fire in my blood. It consumes me. Can’t eat, can’t sleep, I can barely breathe. The hatred burns me up, and all I taste is ash. It’s just the nurse.”

His explanation filled me with reassurance, and my shoulders loosened. “Okay.”

I opened the door and sure enough, on the other side was a nurse—this one different from before, with the same white dress and nurse's cap, but her veins were more prominent just like Frederick's had been.

Snatching the items, I closed the door and set them on the desk. “What now?”

“Bring me the coffee.”

Again, I moved to do as I was told. I knew that I could stop at any moment. There was nothing physically restraining me from simply leaving the office and having the orderlies escort him back to Ward Four. Even if I weren’t getting information out of this, I wouldn’t stop.

I was under the spell of this darkly intelligent and traumatized man. My heart, my pussy, my soul—every part of me ached for him.

Taking the coffee in hand, I moved toward him and paused just a few inches away. The large steel chair, paired with his own height, had him eye level with me, even with me standing.

For a moment, I found myself mesmerized by our proximity. I’d never been this close to him, not outside a dream. He had a five o'clock shadow under his mask, leaving me to wonder which poor bastard was responsible for shaving him.

His skin had been bright red, almost raw, the night before, like he’d been dropped into a pot of hot water. Now his skin, other than a bit of grime, was flawless.

“How did you heal so quickly?”

“Questions after my hour, Doc,” my patient murmured.

With my heart in my throat, I pressed my finger beneath his chin to tilt his head back and tipped the coffee cup carefully to the mouthpiece of his mask.