Read Glorious Victorious Darcys 01.5 - His Broken Angel for Free Online

rested close to the undersides of her breasts. A chaste woman, Lily had never known the intimate touch of a man. That moment her imagination ran amok pondering what other kinds of magic Doc Blue worked with his hands.
    “Nothing personal,” he said as though reading her mind.
    All the same her heart fluttered like a besotted twit’s. She bit her lower lip, afraid to speak, afraid of saying something stupid. Were his hands the sole channel for HE? What of his mouth? Could he kiss her and make her all better? “Oh, God.”
    “Please try to bear it, Miss Gentry. The longer the contact, the deeper the treatment.”
    Lily frowned, realizing he’d mistaken her fascination for fear. As a Freak, he was probably used to being rejected.
    On a whim, Lily reached down and placed her hands over Doc Blue’s. Her pulse tripped and another sort of tingle coursed through her body and centered at her intimate juncture. Taken aback by the keen rush of desire, Lily tempered scandalous thoughts regarding the man hovering over her. Good sense and decorum dictated she pull away. Instead, she slid her palms up and clasped his forearms.
    “What are you doing?” he asked, voice tense.
    “Getting a visual sense of you.” She’d never been so forward with a man. Did he think she was flirting?
Was
she flirting? “I’m imagining a fit physique,” she said. “Your hands are large and your forearms muscular, though not overly bulky. When you entered the room, your footfall was not as heavy as Jasper’s or Snoop’s, but not as light as P.J.’s. I wager your height and build somewhere between intimidating and inconsequential.”
    He laughed a little, and her heart danced. “I’ve not met Snoop,” he said, “but Jasper trumps me in bulk and Miss Darcy, as you guessed, is a wisp of a thing. Physically, anyway. So, yes, I am somewhere in between.”
    “Average height and build,” she said, itching but not daring to extend her touch to his shoulders, his face …
    “Not overly short or tall. A mite lanky maybe, but solid. Fair skin. Blond, almost white, hair. Bad haircut. Short. Choppy.”
    She smothered a smile. “How old?”
    “Twenty-one.”
    Only a few years older than her eighteen. Given his confidence and demeanor, she had guessed him older. “What are you wearing?”
    “Trousers. Shirt.”
    “Details, Doc Blue. Please.” Self-conscious now, Lily released her hold on the man and clasped her hands together to still their trembling. Why the devil was she trembling? “What color are your trousers? What style? Do you fancy cowboy attire, or a conventional suit? Somehow I don’t picture you in bell-bottoms and love beads, so ModVic is out. Humor me, doctor. How can I paint you if I don’t know what you look like?”
    “Why would you want to paint me?”
    His guarded tone stopped her cold. For a scant second, her imagination had sparked back to life and for the first time in days, color had blossomed in her desolate world. A solid and vivid image had formed in her mind’s eye. She’d imagined Doc Blue as clearly as if she were actually
seeing
him.
    But then he’d questioned her motive. Reality muscled whimsy aside and Lily’s world tilted back toward the dark side. Instead of a kind and strong physician—a compassionate healer—Lily envisioned a killing machine. A menacing figure with weapons on his arms—no, weapons where his arms
should
be. It made no sense, yet she could see bullets spraying out of his hands—no, an iron barrel. Endless sparks of fiery red. Chaos. Destruction.
    Evil
.
    A chill iced down Lily’s spine as a river of blood exploded in her mind’s eye. Horrified, she turned inward, toward the darkness. But the river gushed toward her.
    So much red
.
    “Miss Gentry.”
    She retreated deeper, into the bowels. Into the darkness. Heart pounding, chest tightening.
    “Listen to me, angel. Focus on my voice. Breathe.”
    Lily gasped for air. She grappled for the railing. Someone caught her hands.
    Warm