Chapter 97: undress me, Doc
Leo
"Welcome to my humble abode, Doc," Miller announced as we walked out of the elevator that leads directly into the foyer of his penthouse—an industrial luxury loft.
I had prepared myself for a chaotic bachelor pad, but as I stepped inside, the sight made me pause. The space was immaculate. Every piece of mid-century furniture was carefully placed, and the walls were adorned with hockey-related artwork. There was also a large frame containing a photograph of a brunette woman with green eyes and a brown-haired man with eyes that bore a striking resemblance to Miller’s.
They must be his parents, I thought, letting my eyes wander over the picture for a moment before looking away.
The apartment was surprisingly clean—or perhaps I should say unused. I wondered how many days he actually spent here, considering he was usually at the Glacier Dome practicing or in the arms of one of the many people the tabloids frequently linked him to across the city.
"Please, do have a seat, Doc," Miller said, pointing to a brown leather bench.
I sat down, placing my medical bag beside me as I looked around the room once more then back at him. "I am surprised you manage to live in such a clean environment."
Miller chuckled. "What were you expecting I lived in, Doc? A dump?"
I stood up and moved toward him. "Knowing how you find it hard to keep it in your pants, I have to say that wouldn’t have surprised me at all," I told him, pointing back to the bench. "Sit. I need to perform a baseline neurological check now that we are at your residence."
Miller said nothing and simply sat down while I silently began unpacking my tools: the penlight, the blood pressure cuff, the stethoscope, and the thermometer.
"Look straight ahead," I said as I reached out, my fingers wrapping around his jawline as I tilted his head back. "Yes, look straight ahead," I commanded softly, clicking on the penlight to check his pupillary response. "Your pupils are reacting within the expected parameters, which means the brain is still in the building."
"Glad to hear it," Miller joked, though the usual spark in his eyes was replaced by a dull, concussed haze. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the fabric of my sleeve as I leaned in. "Are you okay, Leo? You’re being quieter than usual."
I frowned and pulled back slightly. Quiet? I was anything but quiet; I had just spoken to him a second ago.
"I am not quiet, but merely calculating your hydration requirements and reviewing the medication schedule provided by the doctor. Stay still. I am going to prepare your first dose of analgesics."
I turned to the kitchen island, which was as spotless as a surgical suite. Despite his wealth and this perfect home, I felt a twinge of sympathy for him. He was an orphan; he had no parents to call, no siblings to wait by his side, and Rhys—his brother by choice—was currently fighting his own personal hell.
I looked back at Miller, who had leaned against the bench and closed his eyes against the light. I was glad I was here, at least, to monitor the concussion.
"You’ve got only one bottle of water in your refrigerator, Miller. How the hell do you even eat?"
Miller turned his head to face me and chuckled. "I eat takeout most times, and most times I diet, and..."
I let out a groan, shutting him up. "It’s why you..." I paused, choosing not to finish the thought as I picked a glass up from one of his cupboards—which was thankfully not empty. I poured the water and returned to the living room, setting the glass on the table and handing him the pills. "Take them."
Miller groaned. "You are so bossy, Doc," he sighed, but he took the glass and the pills from my hand and swallowed both. Once he was finished, he handed the glass back to me. "Am I free now?"
I frowned as I took the glass from him and headed back to the kitchen, rinsing the cup and returning it to the cupboard.
"So, Doc," Miller continued, smacking his lips as I returned to the living room. "I was thinking about the sleeping arrangements, as I only have one furnished room. The guest suite is currently an empty shell of drywall and hardwood. I haven’t had the time or the need to furnish it, so if it’s not too much for you, we can—"
"No," I said immediately, not bothering to listen to the rest. "That is statistically inefficient for a residence of this square footage. However, from a caregiver perspective, proximity allows for a more rapid response to any nocturnal seizures or episodes of emesis. So, I will take the sofa."
"The sofa? No way, Leo. It’s bad for your back," Miller murmured. He then groaned and placed a hand at the back of his head. "Actually, I feel a significant increase in cranial pressure. My head is throbbing and I think... a warm bath is the only thing that will resolve it. I’m dizzy, Leo, really dizzy. If I try to prep myself, I might slip, hit my head again, and then you’ll have a literal brain hemorrhage on your hands. You wouldn’t want that on your record, would you?" he asked, winking at me.
I narrowed my eyes at him and groaned. "You are impossible. But you are not wrong, because you are very clumsy and the probability of a secondary traumatic brain injury increases by 300% during unsupervised baths in a post-concussive state. I should do my duty as your caregiver."
Miller clapped his hands excitedly like a child as I agreed.
"Which way to your bathroom? I will prepare the water, but stay seated until I return or I will be forced to sedate you for your own protection."
Miller pointed to the left side of the apartment. I marched into the master suite, my boots echoing on the concrete. I found the bathroom immediately to the left of the bedroom. I began running the water, carefully checking the temperature with a digital thermometer to ensure it stayed within the range of 38°C, because anything higher could cause vasodilation that might lead to syncope.
"Water is ready, Miller!" I shouted as I walked out of the bathroom, heading toward the living room. I stopped immediately because he wasn’t on the sofa anymore.
Miller was standing in the center of the room in nothing but his boxers. "A little help, Doc?" he asked as he smirked at me. "My, uhm... what’s the word again? My motor skills," he snapped his fingers when he figured it out. "My motor skills are compromised. Very compromised."
My eyes widened, and my heart started racing quite fast. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck, clashing with my internal need for order. My eyes roamed over his body, from his chest down to the line of his—
"I know for sure you can undress yourself, Miller, so why the hell are you making things hard for me?" I demanded, my voice shaking slightly. "When I asked you to stay on the sofa, I meant it! If you are able to move around on your own like this, it means you can fully undress yourself!"
"So why are you blushing then, Doc?" Miller teased, taking a slow, calculated step towards me. "Is that a natural response? Does my heart rate make yours go up, too?"
I pointed a finger to stop him. "You must have seen it wrong, because I do not blush. It must be the humidity in this room affecting my thermoregulation," I told him, moving backward until my back hit the wall of the bathroom. "If you do not cease this flirtatious behavior and enter the tub immediately, I will be forced to implement a strict protocol which involves me leaving you in the dark with nothing but a cold compress and a sedative!"
Miller chuckled. "Oh, you are so bossy. I like it," he winked. He leaned in even closer to me, then grabbed his boxers and pulled them down, rendering him stark naked in front of me.
"Miller!" I shouted. I let out a choked gasp, my glasses nearly sliding off the bridge of my nose as I whipped my head away and stared at the marble wall of his bathroom. "What the hell are you doing, being naked?!" I yelled.
"Following instructions to undress, Doc," Miller responded in a low, sultry tone that made my heart stutter.
I clenched my fists tightly because, internally, my brain was betraying me. It was running an unwanted scan of the visual data I had just processed.
Miller was large, and his physical presence was far more imposing than it appeared under a hockey jersey. His cock was much bigger than I had imagined, and for that reason, my heart rate increased until I could feel it thudding in my ears like a drum.
What an endowed man, I thought.