Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Chelsea

I turned at the sound of his voice.

I was expecting this, but not so soon. Instead of dark jeans and t-shirt, Storm was dressed in shorts and a Smashers T-shirt. His skin glistened with sweat and blood. If he looked delicious the other night at Flirts, he looked positively tasty now.

“Hi.” I greeted him with a smile before clicking over to him in my more sensible kitten heels. “Let me take a look at that.”

He jerked away from me before I could touch his face. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He had the sense to keep his voice down somewhat. Whether that was for his benefit or mine, I wasn't sure.

“Professional placement,” I said easily. “As part of my sports medicine degree. Don't worry, I'm a fully qualified doctor. Medical.”

“Doctor…” He echoed, eyes glazed as his brain struggled to catch up.

“Doctor Chelsea Miller.” I held out my hand to him.

He stared at it. “Chelsea Miller?”

“Doctor,” I reminded him, as if he would have forgotten the last thirty seconds. “Let me guess, your coach said he wanted your cheek looked at. You might need a stitch or two. Give me a moment to pull on some gloves.”

“But you were… The other night…” He frowned deeply.

“Yes, I was.” I snapped on my gloves and grabbed a clean washer to wipe the blood from his face. “Hold still.”

He jerked away from me again and hissed, “What the fuck is going on? Is this some kind of joke? Is there a camera watching us?” He glanced around, grey eyes darker, like thunderclouds.

“Yes, it's a prank,” I said sarcastically. “Women aren't really doctors. Ha ha, got you going there, didn't I?”

I could only wish this was the first time I'd had this conversation with a man.

He stared at me.

I sighed. “I really am a doctor. Would you like to see my qualifications?”

“Where's Doctor Stuart?” Storm looked around the infirmary.

“He's finishing up paperwork,” I said. “You'd be surprised how much it takes to do a placement like this. Paperwork is always the worst part of the job. Is this where you tell me you'll wait and risk bleeding to death before you let me treat you?”

Also not the first time I'd had to ask something like that.

“Let's make this easy. You sit down on the treatment table and I treat you. It's really that simple.”

I'd known being the new face on the team was going to be difficult, but I hadn't expected the resistance to come from him, and not over something like this. In spite of the blood, it was little more than a cut. A stitch or two in place for a couple of days would set it right. If he could put aside whatever was going on and let me do my job.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Who are you? Why are you here? Don't bullshit me, Panther.”

I resisted the incredibly strong urge to roll my eyes, and inhaled slowly instead.

“That's not the question, is it? You really want to ask why I was at Flirts.” Neither of us needed me to elaborate, and the last thing I needed was for someone else to walk in and overhear. I wasn't ashamed of what I did, but it was a complication I didn't need this early in the placement. Especially not when I was angling to be added to the team permanently after I graduated with my specialty degree.

Sports medicine, it was all I ever wanted to do. Treating athletes and working with professional teams. My whole life, I worked towards that goal. I sacrificed everything for it. I wasn't going to let anyone screw it up now. Especially not myself.

“I guess so,” he said. “You didn't mention any of this. Did you know who I was?”

“Is that what this is about?” I scrunched up the washer in my hand, ignoring the way water dripped from it and onto the floor. “I said I'd be discreet.”

“Nothing happened,” he said, his expression tight.

“No, it didn't,” I agreed. “Like I said, no one will hear about that from me. For the record, what I do there, I do because it pays the bills. It put me through medical school. Graduate school too. This placement I'm doing, to get up my hours of experience— I don't get paid for a minute of this. Not one. My night job is how I live. It puts food on my table. It helps fund my obsession with pot plants.” I managed a small laugh and loosened my grip on the washcloth.

“As for your bigger concern,” men and their egos, “Yes, I knew who you were. I had no idea I'd be accepted for this placement. It was my first choice, but it's also the first choice of most of my cohorts. I figured I'd get placed with the Dusk Bay Demons ice hockey team, or maybe the Opal Springs Ghouls. Or the Ghosts.” I was babbling now. I pressed my lips together for a moment.

“The point is, if I knew I'd end up here, I wouldn't have spoken to you. I would have gone off with that guy who wanted the blowjob.” I knew my words would provoke him, and they did. The skin that wasn't covered with blood turned slightly pink.

He shook his head. “You were looking at me while you were…” He glanced toward the doorway. “Taking your clothes off. You singled me out. What do you want?”

“You were standing right at the front and centre,” I pointed out. “How could I miss you? Hell, how do I know you had no idea who I was? Maybe you were at Flirts the other night knowing I'd end up here. You wanted to make me uncomfortable for some reason.”

I looked at him sideways. I knew very well all of this was bullshit. He had no idea who I was. I was just a body for him to leer at. He would have done it to any of the dancers.

He scoffed. “How the fuck would I know a stripper was really a doctor? I've never met a doctor who was so willing to show me their pussy. Is that how you got this gig? Who did you fuck for it?”

I could have happily slapped him across the face, then pointed the finger at him for sexual harassment. But I'd heard all of this bullshit too many times before. How did I get top marks in class, had I given the professor a blowjob? How did I do so well in exams? Who had I spread my legs for?

Rather than getting angry, I was bored of the same crap I'd heard a million times before.

“I worked hard for it,” I said simply. “I only flash my pussy at Flirts. You know exactly how well I get paid to do it. Because I'm fucking good at it, just like I'm good at being a doctor. Now, are you going to sit down and let me treat you, or are we going to have a problem?”

I let my hip jut out and looked at him questioningly.

He still looked doubtful, but sat on the treatment table and let me wipe the blood from his jaw.

“Old wound?” I peered closely at it.

He shrugged. “One of many. I'm not doing my job if I'm not bruised and bleeding from somewhere. Or making someone else bruise or bleed.”

“Of course not.” I dabbed at the wound again as it went on bleeding. “That's half the fun of rugby. It's brutal and raw.”

Rugby Australia was trying to find a way to minimise head injuries without taking away from the game, but a few knocks here and there didn't do the players too much harm.

“Is that why you wanted to work here?” He sat still without moving anything except his eyes. Those followed my every movement. “You like to watch men smash the shit out of each other?”

I smiled. “I like smashing in all definitions of the word. The harder, the better. Now, hold this in place and I'll get a needle and some thread. A stitch or two will do it. If you can avoid falling on your face for a few days.”

He snorted. “I didn't fall on my fucking face.”

“No, you probably fell on someone's fist.” I pulled off my gloves, washed my hands and put on a fresh pair before starting to thread the needle with the kind of thread that would dissolve by itself in a few days. “Who did you piss of?”

“It's a Wednesday, the question is who didn't I piss off?” He sat still while I started on the first stitch.

“I'm shocked you're the kind of guy who annoys people,” I said sarcastically.

He hadn't seemed that way the other night. Storm Keller wasn't the first guy to behave differently outside his native habitat. Men went to Flirts to relax as well as to enjoy the show.

“I live to please,” he said with the same level of sarcasm.

“Funny, me too,” I said lightly.

I snipped off the first stitch and started on the other.

He grabbed my wrist, stopping me mid-stitch. “Are you still going to…work there? If you work here full-time?” His voice was low, demanding an honest answer from me.

Apparently he hadn't believed me when I said I never fake.

I stayed perfectly still, not wanting to pull the thread through his skin and cause more damage. I didn't want to give him any excuse to complain about me. One word from a popular player like him and I'd be out on my ass before I could blink. I'd never work in the field again.

While I wouldn't object to going into general practice, I would object to losing my dream and goal. Especially to a guy.

“I couldn't work there and travel with the team, could I now?” I said lightly.

Not to mention that the team would probably not look favourably upon a team doctor who was a stripper on the side. Working full time here, I wouldn't need a side hustle. Even if I had the energy for one.

I'd miss working at the club, and I'd miss my friends there, but it was a means to an end. When I didn't need the money from Flirts, I'd quit. Hang up my stilettos and G-string, unless I met someone I wanted to give a private show to. If a guy existed who could deal with my crazy work hours, and my confidence in bed. I knew what I liked, and I wasn't afraid to ask for it. That put some guys off, but I knew those guys weren't for me.

Who they were for, I didn't know, but it wasn't me.

“That's not a no.” Storm’s grip tightened on my wrist.

I looked him right in the eyes. “No. Are you happy now, or were you hoping I'd take my clothes off for you again?” If he thought he could intimidate me, he'd have to rethink.

Doctor Chelsea Miller wasn't intimidated so easily. My parents raised my older brother and me to stand up for ourselves and what we believed in. We'd fully embraced that upbringing. Neither Isaac nor I were shy, or timid. We both went after what we wanted and didn't let anything or anyone stand in our way.

I didn't miss the way Storm’s eyes went darker at my words. His breath came faster. He was definitely thinking of me stripping for him. Remembering the way I touched myself and came in front of him. Remembering the way he came while I watched his hand stroking his thick, hard cock.

“You’ll do that anyway,” he whispered. “But next time, I'm not paying for it.” He let go of my wrist and sat still again to let me finish the second stitch.