He calls me Angel

2. I am a professional

Erika's POV:

"It's Erika."

"Erika." He repeated in a whisper, almost as if trying to savor my name on his lips.

I felt my cheeks heat up just from looking at him. He caught on my reaction and smiled mischievously. He was like fire, but this wasn't the time to let him consume me. Besides, I had a job to do.

I am a professional.

He stared at me, his hand still under my chin. He parted his plump lips to say something, but not a word came out. Time stilled as I allowed myself to look at him as well, feeling mesmerized by the blue flecks in his green eyes. My gaze fell lower, to a tattoo traveling up his skin, like feathers tinting the right side of his neck. His shirt was still covering his right torso and arm, so I couldn't figure out what it was exactly, but I had a feeling the right side of his body was covered with more black ink.

Snapping out of the trance I found myself in.

I looked at his left shoulder once again; the acromion bone was abnormally prominent, coloring his skin a livid blue and making his movements limited. Such injuries came with immense pain, but he hid his behind smirks and mischief.

I couldn't help but wonder.

"This might be painful." I didn't give him much time, before I applied light pressure on his shoulder to inspect the passive motion of the joint.

"Wha- ugh, fuck!" He pulled his arm away from me, furrowing his eyebrows in anger.

"I did try to warn you."

"You call this a warning?"

"You're right, I should have explained what I wanted to do. I apologize for that." I sighed, eyes focused on his tight expression. "Will you please allow me to inspect the motion of your shoulder? The on-call doctor wrote it's been dislocated, but I presume you tore a muscle as well... and therefore the pain."

He agreed to my request with a nod, and I moved closer. I was a bit irritated; something in his story didn't add up.

"Do you mind explaining again, how this really happened?"

"I told you. I fell." He was clenching his jaw in anger; I was overstepping my boundaries. The circumstances of his injury didn't matter, when it came to diagnosis and therapy. I was just curious.

"It looks like an athlete's accident. Are you sure it was a 'falling' incident?" I raised an eyebrow questioningly, but he just rolled his eyes.

Ignoring the sour looks directed my way, I continued with my task, inspecting his shoulder and moving on to the rest of his body. It was standard procedure; still, I felt heat in my cheeks as I pondered upon asking him. Irritated with him and myself, I sighed. I was a professional. There was no time for a scenario where I was shy about this.

"Mr. King, could you remove your shirt entirely? I need to..."

"You know..." He chuckled, looking away from me, before pinning me down with his intense eyes. "I find it incredibly sexy, when a woman knows what she wants."

I blushed profusely, feeling the tips of my ears sting, but I refused to play along. "Mr. King I need to hear your heart and lungs-"

"Erika, please. It's just Brandon." He sounded genuine for a moment, ready to comply, but not without a last teasing remark. "Although, I wouldn't mind dinner first-"

"Brandon, please!"

My voice rang louder, echoing off the walls of the bare room; it sounded foreign to my ears. I was never a confident person and I mostly preferred laying low, being unnoticed. The man in front of me was making it clear that, if I wanted him to follow instructions, I would have to fight for his respect, go beyond the seams of my dormant self.