Chapter Twelve: The VIP Patient Reveal

The private ward was hushed, wrapped in the sterile elegance reserved only for the wealthiest. Everything gleamed, from the polished wood panels to the faint lavender scent perfuming the air. It was luxury disguised as care. And for Sarah, it was the battlefield she dreaded most.

Her fingers tightened around the clipboard, her eyes catching the name at the top. Liam Hamilton.

The heir of Hamilton Medical Group. The man who signed the paychecks of everyone in this hospital, including hers. The owner of the very building she stood in.

And the man she had once tied to her bed.

Her stomach twisted as she pushed open the door.

The suite was dim, afternoon sunlight spilling across crisp white sheets. He was there, lounging as if the hospital bed were a throne, one arm propped against the headboard, gown hanging loose around his shoulders. His dark hair fell messily against his forehead, his smile slow, predatory.

“Doctor,” Liam drawled, velvet laced with mockery. “Finally. I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

Sarah swallowed, summoning every ounce of composure she had. “Mr. Hamilton,” she said softly. “I’ll need to perform a routine exam.”

His smirk curved higher. “Routine, huh? That almost sounds boring.”

Her pulse raced, but she forced herself forward. Professional. Detached. Safe. She placed her stethoscope on the tray and tried not to notice the sharp line of his jaw, the unholy glint in his eyes.

“Lie back, please,” she murmured.

He complied with exaggerated ease, reclining against the pillows. Then with deliberate slowness, he tugged the ties of his gown, letting the fabric fall open across his chest.

Sarah froze.

The air seemed to thicken. The sharp ridges of his abs glistened faintly in the light, every line carved with impossible perfection. His v-line dipped low into shadow, leading into places she had no right to imagine. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, golden skin smooth, tempting, alive.

And lower, beneath the sheet, his toes shifted. Curled. Uncurled. Lazy. Teasing.

Her throat closed.

“Doctor,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “You’ll have to touch me now. It’s your job.”

Her hand shook as she placed her palm on his abdomen, fingers pressing gently into the warm ridges of his stomach. The moment her skin touched his, his body responded, hard muscles flexing beneath her, his breath catching before spilling into a sound that nearly undid her.

“Mmmm…”

It wasn’t words. It was pure sensation, slipping from his chest, low and involuntary.

Her pulse thundered. “Does that hurt?”

“No,” Liam said, his voice husky. “But it feels… a bit tickling.”

Sarah’s breath hitched as she moved lower, fingertips pressing carefully along his obliques. His abs tightened, quivering beneath her. Another sound escaped him, this one rougher, longer.

“Ahhhh…”

Her knees weakened. She tried to focus on her notes, on anything but the heat building in her veins. But her eyes betrayed her, flicking down, watching the small, devastating detail she couldn’t escape.

His toes.

Curling hard. Releasing. Curling again. The sheet shifted with every twitch, every unconscious spasm.

Sarah’s fingertips faltered.

“You’re trembling,” Liam murmured, his smirk cutting deep.

“I—I’m fine,” she whispered. Her hand slid lower, brushing just above the waistband of his hospital trousers. The forbidden edge.

His body jolted. Another moan tore from him, guttural and wrecked.

“Ahhhh—Sarah…”

Her name. On his lips. Moaned.

She nearly collapsed under the sound. Forty-five years of restraint crumbled in that one moment, her body betraying her with the desperate heat pooling low between her thighs.

Liam’s toes clenched again, curling so hard the muscles in his calves quivered. Then they spread, flexed, curled once more, each twitch a silent echo of what her touch was doing to him.

“Ticklish,” he breathed, though his eyes were dark with something far from laughter. “Or maybe just… sensitive.”

Her cheeks burned. Her palms pressed harder into his abdomen, her fingertips trailing too close to the edge of propriety. The hard wall of his abs rippled beneath her, alive and trembling under her touch.

“Mmmm… ahhh…” His moans filled the room, thick and unrestrained. His head tipped back, jaw clenched, sweat beading faintly at his temples.

Sarah’s chest heaved. She should stop. She had to stop. But her hand lingered, sliding across the cut of his v-line, her thumb brushing the waistband before jerking away in terror of what she was doing.

Liam’s eyes snapped open, dark and blazing. “Careful, Doctor,” he rasped. “If you touch me like that again, I might think you’re enjoying this.”

She froze, her hand still trembling against his bare skin.

And then deliberately, cruelly, his toes curled again. Slow. Tight. A moan spilled out of him, low and devastating.

“Ughhhh… mmmm… ahhhh…”

The sound hit her like a tidal wave. Her vision blurred, her thighs pressed together instinctively, shame and desire tangling in a knot that threatened to unravel her.

Her fingers twitched against him. Her heart screamed to pull away, but her body begged to press deeper, to worship every line, to give in.

“That’s enough,” she whispered, but her voice shook, paper-thin.

Liam’s lips curved, slow and devastating. His chest rose and fell in ragged bursts, his eyes locked onto hers like he already knew her darkest secret.

“Is it?”

Sarah’s gaze dropped once more, helpless. His toes flexed, curling and uncurling like a rhythm she couldn’t escape. Her breath caught, and in that moment she knew, she would never forget this. Never unfeel it.

Every moan, every twitch of his body, every curl of his toes would haunt her.

The silence thickened, dangerous and intoxicating.

Sarah snatched her clipboard, scribbling nonsense across the page with shaking hands. She turned her back to him, desperate to compose herself, but her cheeks burned, her chest heaved, and the memory of his warmth clung to her palms.

Behind her, his voice followed low, amused, and sinfully dark.

“Careful, Doctor. If your hands shake like that next time… I’ll know you’re enjoying this more than me.”

Sarah froze. She didn’t turn. She couldn’t.

Because he was right.

And she wasn’t sure she could survive the next one.