When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 139

Amelia

I stood outside Ethan's suite, my hand hovering nervously before knocking. My heart thumped against my ribs as I remembered my text to him about the shower. What was I thinking? I'd promised to help him wash with his injured hand, but now that I was actually here, I felt like a teenager about to sneak into a party.

The door suddenly swung open before I could knock, revealing a shirtless Noah with tousled hair and a cocky smile that quickly turned to shock.

"Noah?" I gasped, taking an instinctive step back. "What are you doing here?"

His jaw dropped as he stared at me. "Amelia? I thought... wait, where's Olivia?"

"Olivia? She's not here. She went to bed hours ago." I clutched my medical bag tighter, feeling utterly confused.

From inside the suite, I heard rapid footsteps before Ethan appeared behind Noah, his expression a mix of annoyance and panic. He shot Noah a death glare before reaching for my hand.

"Amelia, come in," he said, pulling me past a still-bewildered Noah and into the suite.

"What's Noah doing here?" I whispered as Ethan led me toward his bedroom.

"He's staying here tonight. Apparently, his place is being renovated." Ethan's tone made it clear this wasn't his idea. As we entered his bedroom, he closed the door with his foot and locked it, the soft click echoing in the quiet room.

"I think he's just trying to be closer to Olivia, same as I'm trying to be closer to you," he added, his voice dropping to that low, husky tone that always made my skin tingle.

He leaned close to my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "I was worried my doctor might not be comfortable treating me with an audience."

My cheeks burned, and I felt the heat spread to my ears. "I'm just here to check your wounds and make sure Daniel didn’t give you a hard time this time," I insisted, though even I sounded unconvincing.

Ethan smirked, his blue eyes darkening. "So, doctor, how do we handle this? I haven't showered properly in days."

I swallowed hard, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my blouse. "I... I brought waterproof bandages."

Ethan led me to the en-suite bathroom, a marble and glass palace bigger than my first apartment. He locked this door too, making me jump.

"Why are you locking the door?" I asked, my voice embarrassingly high.

"Noah has a bad habit of barging in without knocking," Ethan explained casually. "Unless you want him to see this..." He gestured between us.

"God, no," I muttered, then watched as Ethan began unbuttoning his shirt with his left hand, struggling slightly with each button.

I stood frozen, unable to look away as each undone button revealed more of his chest. When he winced trying to slide the shirt off his injured shoulder, I snapped into doctor mode.

"Let me help," I said, stepping forward and gently easing the fabric over his bandaged right hand. My fingers accidentally brushed against his chest, and I felt his sharp intake of breath.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked, immediately examining the bandaged wound on his side.

"No," he said, his voice strained. "Not at all."

When his hands moved to his belt buckle, I spun around so fast I nearly slipped on the marble floor. "I'll... adjust the water temperature."

"What's wrong, Dr. Thompson?" Ethan's voice held amusement. "Never seen me like this before?"

"I'm just respecting your privacy," I said to the shower controls, fiddling with knobs as the sound of rustling clothes continued behind me.

"The water's ready," I announced, still facing away. "You can get in now."

I heard the splash of water as he settled into the large soaking tub. "You can turn around now," he said. "I'm decent... well, covered at least."

Slowly, I turned to find Ethan submerged in the tub, bubbles partially obscuring his body. His broad shoulders and chest remained exposed, water droplets clinging to his skin. My mouth went dry, and I became intensely aware of my racing pulse.

"I... I'll get a washcloth," I stammered, reaching for a soft cloth folded nearby.

I approached the tub, trying to maintain my professional demeanor despite my unsteady hands. Kneeling beside the tub, I dipped the cloth in the warm water and began washing his shoulders, keeping my touch clinical.

"Your technique is too light," Ethan said, suddenly grabbing my wrist. "Do you need me to show you how to wash properly?"

I pulled my hand away. "No...No"

When I moved the cloth to his chest, Ethan captured my hand again and pressed it directly against his heart. "Feel that?" he asked softly. "That's what you do to me. Every time you're near."

I could feel his heart racing beneath my palm, matching the frantic pace of my own. I didn't respond, just continued washing him with slightly more pressure, moving from his shoulders to his chest.

When my fingers brushed against his firm pectoral muscles, my breathing became shallow.

"Your heart is racing too," he observed. "I can feel your hands shaking."

"It's just an awkward position," I lied, my face burning.

Ethan shifted in the tub, water splashing over the edge and onto my white blouse. "Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "Just trying to make it easier for you."

I glanced down at my now semi-transparent blouse clinging to my skin and quickly crossed my arms over my chest. "It's fine," I said, my voice higher than normal.

"It certainly is," Ethan murmured, his gaze lingering on my chest.

"Turn around, please," I requested, desperate to regain control of the situation. "I need to wash your back."

Ethan obliged, presenting his broad back to me. I ran the cloth along his spine, noticing how his muscles tensed under my touch.

"Are you okay?" I asked, worried I'd hurt him.

"Perfect," he replied, his voice husky. "Your touch just feels... a bit too good."

"I think that's... enough," I said, my voice cracking. "Time to rinse."

I grabbed the handheld shower, hastily rinsing his hair. Water accidentally sprayed across his face.

"I'm sorry!" I apologized, reaching out to shield his eyes. My fingers inadvertently brushed his cheek.

Ethan caught my wrist, holding my hand against his face. "Amelia, you're trembling."

"I'm not," I denied weakly. "It's just hot in here."

"Hot?" His eyebrow arched. "Maybe you should take off that wet blouse then."

My eyes widened. "I'm not stripping in your bathroom!"

"Why not?" he challenged. "It's just us, and I'm already naked."

"That's different," I whispered, lowering my eyes. "You're the patient."

"I'm also your husband," Ethan reminded me.

I had no response. I continued rinsing him in silence, my eyes carefully avoiding the waterline. When I reached his lower abdomen, I noticed a distinct change beneath the bubbles and quickly withdrew my hand.

"Sorry," Ethan said without a hint of remorse. "Natural reaction."

"I think you can manage the rest," I said, practically jumping to my feet. "I'll wait outside."

I fled the bathroom, closing the door behind me and leaning against it. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might crack a rib.

I looked down at my wet blouse, now embarrassingly transparent. I grabbed one of Ethan's dress shirts from his closet and pulled it on over my damp clothes, immediately enveloped in his scent.

The bathroom door opened, and Ethan emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets still clinging to his chest. I quickly averted my eyes.

"I found some fresh bandages," I said, holding up my medical bag. "Let me redress your wound."

But my voice betrayed me, sounding hoarse at the end. Because, despite all my professional training and best intentions, I couldn't deny the truth: I wanted him. And judging by what I'd glimpsed in that bathtub, he definitely wanted me too.