Every breath, every hesitation, every tremor in June's hands got cataloged in high-definition perpetuity.
If she aborted the inspection now—mid-procedure, with Ross standing naked, fully erect, and clearly aroused—she'd be handing her detractors the exact ammunition they'd been waiting for.
The whispers would start before the shift even ended: June cracked under pressure. June couldn't handle a routine physical. June lost her nerve in front of a new guy.
Credibility wasn't just important here; it was everything.
So she stayed.
Her mouth was dry.
Her pulse thundered in her ears so loudly she barely heard the soft hiss of the ventilation system overhead.
She lifted her eyes—just long enough to meet Ross's gaze.
He hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken.
But the way he watched her… it was calm, patient, almost gentle in its intensity. No mockery.
No gloating. Just that steady, unblinking focus that said he saw every crack in her armor and wasn't judging.
He was simply waiting.
