To my relief, Delilah lowers the blanket ever so slightly and gives me the tiniest smile before she gets out of bed and follows Cross out of the room.
I’ll never get used to the ache in my chest that springs to life whenever I have to watch her walk away from me.
Chapter thirty-five
Mystomachtwistsintoknots as Cross unlocks the door to the med bay, flicking on the lights without needing to look for the switch. I flinch slightly at the brightness, hugging my stomach as I move farther into the room. Cross closes and locks the door behind us, rubbing his face with a sigh. I turn to look at him, concern pooling in my belly like acid.
“I’m sorry but I need to ask some hard questions, and I didn’t want you to shut down because the others were there,” Cross says, still speaking in that oddly clipped but somehow kind tone.
I nod, moving over to sit on the edge of the hospital bed, waiting.
Cross leans backwards against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, looking me dead in the eyes as he speaks. “Did anyone ever implant some sort of tracking device into your body that you know of?”
I blink, momentarily stunned by the question. “No…not that I know of,” I reply, trying to remember.
Cross sighs and nods. “I wasn’t expecting you to, but I wanted to ask. With the blocks in your memory…”
It’s my turn to sigh and nod. He’s not entirely wrong. My short-term memory is fine, but I’m only able to access tiny bits and pieces of the past several years, and none of those traces are of someone putting a tracker into me.
“I’m going to need to do another physical exam, but this time, I need to be able to see all of you.”
I’d let my gaze drift away for a moment, but my head snaps back to stare wide-eyed at Cross as my mouth goes dry and my face gets hot. He looks back at me, unflinching, and I clear my throat.
“I—um, okay. If that’s—” I cut myself off as I look away, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.
While I’d been naked in front of Phantom, he’d purposely kept his eyes on my face. But now, Cross is going to see everything, every flaw, every scar, every freckle. And yes, he’s a doctor, but he’s also one of the most attractive doctors I’ve ever met. And having his eyes and hands all over me…
“When you’re ready, please undress and stand up for me,” Cross says, his voice pulling me from my thoughts.
Despite the fact that he’s a beta, my instincts respond first, and I’m on my feet before I’m aware I’ve made the decision to move. I keep my eyes down as I shed the over-sized t-shirt and sweatpants Phantom gave me, leaving me in just my underwear, no bra. I go to wrap my arms around my waist, but a sharp corrective noise from Cross has me freezing.
“Arms at your side for me,” he instructs, pushing off the counter and striding toward me with slow, deliberate steps.
I drop my hands to hang at my sides, my eyes still on the floor. My face feels hot enough to fry an egg, and it takes more effort than I would have thought to keep still as Cross closes the distance at last.
“Good girl,” he breathes as he circles behind me.
My breath catches in my throat, and I try to cover it with a cough, but it doesn’t sound convincing even to my own ears. But thankfully, he doesn’t comment as he stops behind me. Gentle fingers brush my hair forward over my shoulders, exposing the skin of my back completely.
“I’m going to use my hands to feel for any unusual lumps or bumps, okay? Say ‘Yes, Mr. Cross’ if you consent,” he murmurs, his breath brushing over my skin, goosebumps rising along my arms and back.
“Yes, Mr. Cross,” I exhale, falling back into my submissive nature almost too easily.
“Good girl. If at any time you want to take a break, or if it gets to be too much, I want you to say ‘stop, Silas.’ Do you understand?” Cross asks.
I nod. “Yes, Mr. Cross.”
“Good girl. I’m going to start on your shoulders,” Cross answers.
I inhale sharply as his fingers press against me, the skin-on-skin contact making my instincts go crazy. There’s nothing overtly sexual about the way his hands move across my skin, feeling every inch with precision. But no one’s touched me like this in so long, and my instincts can’t differentiate the sensations.
“You’re being so good for me, honey. I’m going to go lower now, okay?”
“Yes, Mr. Cross.”
I somehow manage to speak normally, none of the wild desperation filling my belly coming through in my tone. Cross’s fingers move steadily down my back, along my spine, across to my sides until he reaches the waistband of my underwear. But thankfully he doesn’t go further.
“Nothing here. Let’s have you lay down so I can take a look at the rest of you,” Cross says gently, though not lacking any ounce of his authority.