35. Delilah
Chapter thirty-five
My stomach twists into knots 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.
My knees wobble slightly as I take a step, but I’m able to catch myself and lay down on the bed on my own. Cross looks down at me as he uses his foot to raise the bed slightly, allowing him to reach over me without having to bend awkwardly.
“Arms first,” he breathes.
The next several minutes pass as he repeats his examination on one arm and then the other, his eyes fixed on where he’s working rather than on my face, and it’s probably for the best. I don’t know if I could handle full eye contact right now.
His hands pause on my collarbone, his jade-green eyes flicking to mine in a silent request for permission to continue.
I nod, swallowing again. I’m positive he can feel my racing heartbeat as he touches my throat, the slight widening of his pupils his only outward reaction.
I have to bite the inside of my lip in an effort to contain my moan as Cross’s fingers drift lower and lower until he’s at my breasts.
It might be my imagination, but it almost feels like he slows down as his fingers circle my breasts, taking his time and leaving me panting by the time his fingers brush over my rock-hard nipples.
“Are you okay, Delilah? This isn’t too much?” Cross asks, his voice nearly an octave lower than it was a few moments ago.
“I’m okay, Mr. Cross,” I answer, breathlessly.
“Such a good girl. Staying so still while I work,” Cross coos.
And it’s definitely not my imagination when his fingers close over my nipples and pull ever so slightly before he moves down my belly.
I catch my whimper, closing my eyes and trying to think of anything other than the way his warm touch has my pussy aching.
I hear him move, his fingers trailing over one of my legs until he lifts one off the bed to examine it.
“You’re doing so well, honey. We’re almost done,” Cross says as he lowers one leg before picking up the other.
I nod, not trusting my voice at this point. And it’s a good thing I don’t, because his hands don’t stop at my mid-thigh this time. He runs his hands up the inside of my thighs, and I tense, trying to stay still as his knuckles inadvertently brush the soaked crotch of my underwear.
“Oh, look at you, honey. You’ve made such a pretty mess for me, haven’t you,” Cross purrs, using his grip on my thighs to spread them slightly.
I suck in a sharp breath as he traces a finger across the fabric covering my pussy, my head tilting back. It’s been so long, and I’m so keyed up that his feather-light touches make me pulse.
“You’ve been so good, and this is the last place I have to look. If you can stay still for just a little longer, I’ll take care of this for you. How does that sound, honey?”
Cross presses two fingers against my swollen clit through the material and I can’t hold back the omega whine this time, nodding frantically.
“Ask me for it,” Cross prompts.
“Please, Mr. Cross,” I answer immediately.
“Please what?”
I swallow and tremble. “Please take care of me, Mr. Cross. Please touch me,” I ramble.
“Good girl. Lift your hips for me, honey. There we go,” he says, helping me out of my underwear as I obey.
When I settle back down, Cross guides me to spread my thighs even wider, leaving me completely exposed to his hungry stare.
He doesn’t waste time, examining my outer lips with new-found efficiency before he spreads them with one hand.
I flush again as my pussy pulses, and I feel my slick dripping from my slit.
“Look at you, all swollen and perfect. And so fucking responsive,” he says, starting off light but the words morph into a growl as he suddenly slides two fingers inside me.
I moan, unable to hold it back. There’s no resistance as he moves his fingers deep inside my pussy, probing for a moment under the pretense of the exam before even that thin veneer disappears.
With the accuracy that can only come from years of anatomical study, Cross twists his wrist, his fingers curling expertly against my sweet spot.
“Oh, God!” I gasp, my back bowing.
“That’s right, honey. Just relax and let me take care of you. You’ve been so good, and you deserve a reward. And look how pretty your pussy is, taking my fingers deep like this.”
Cross’s free hand clamps around the back of my neck, pulling me to sit up and tilting my gaze down so I don’t have a choice to watch as he drives his fingers in and out of me, faster and faster. I moan and whimper, pleasure making my toes curl and my chest heave.
“Let go for me, honey. You’ve earned this. So just let go and come for me,” Cross says, leaning toward me and pressing his forehead against the side of my head.
His hand shifts again, turning so his thumb presses against my clit, circling it perfectly to drive me right over the edge into my orgasm.
I scream, my body twitching as he works me through it, wringing every ounce of pleasure he can from my body before he finally slows.
I pant, eyes half lidded as I turn my gaze up to him.
“Such a good girl. You’re so fucking beautiful when you come like that,” Cross whispers emphatically before he slants his lips over mine in a scorching kiss.
I moan into his mouth, letting him lead, opening when his tongue runs along my lower lip.
He tastes like cognac and spices, and I can’t get enough.
His hand tightens around the back of my neck, his other pulling free from my pussy to gather me closer.
My head spins by the time he pulls away, and my lips tingle as they lift into a blissed-out smile.
“There she is,” Cross says with a little chuckle, nuzzling the tip of his nose against mine.
I turn my head to look away, but suddenly, Cross is turning me away, moving behind me, one hand gathering my hair to lift it out of the way as he presses hard into something on the back of my neck, so hard that I hiss in pain.
“Got you,” Cross says, two of his fingers pinching something under my skin.
“What—”
And then I feel it. A small, capsule-shaped lump rolling under my skin as Cross gently moves his fingers back and forth. I stay still as Cross moves away for a moment, returning with some sort of reader, and holding it over the back of my neck until a sharp beep fills the air.
My blood runs cold, and I swallow the bile rising in the back of my throat. A tracker. Someone put a tracker inside me. And I have no idea when it happened or who did it.