My Campus Doctor's Forbidden Cure - Chapter 1: Chapter 1
You are reading My Campus Doctor's Forbidden Cure, Chapter 1: Chapter 1. Read more chapters of My Campus Doctor's Forbidden Cure.
My name is Emily Laurent, just your average college student—except lately, my body's decided to betray me in the most humiliating way possible.
I've never even held hands with a guy, yet here I am, lactating like some postpartum mom. And it's not just a little—it's a flood. If I don't pump every few hours, I'm at risk of mastitis, which sounds about as fun as a root canal.
Military training made everything worse. The stiff camouflage uniform rubbed my skin raw with every drill, leaving me sore, itchy, and desperate. By the third day, I was on the verge of tears, with no choice but to drag myself to the campus clinic.
That afternoon, after a rushed shower, I slipped into the only open infirmary on the third floor. Thank God for the new campus—everyone else was too exhausted from the drill sergeants' torture to wander around. The hallway was eerily empty.
Heart hammering, I tugged off my face mask and knocked.
"Come in." A crisp, no-nonsense voice answered. Male.
My instincts screamed run, but the dull ache in my chest left no room for hesitation. Face burning, I pushed the door open and slumped into the chair across from the desk, eyes glued to my lap.
"What brings you in, Miss?" His tone was calm, almost gentle—definitely younger than I'd expected.
The question made my cheeks flare hotter. "I-I need a sick leave note…"
"Half the girls here try to skip training. I only write excuses for real issues." He didn't look up from his notes. "What's wrong?"
"My… chest."
The words stumbled out before I could stop them. Curiosity got the better of me, and I peeked up.
The man across the desk was unfairly attractive—sharp cheekbones, gold-rimmed glasses perched on a straight nose, that quiet intensity of a guy who'd be plastered all over campus crush lists. His lab coat was pristine, his skin pale against the dark fabric. A staff ID dangled from his neck: Ethan Roscente.
"Lie down over here. I'll examine you."
He stood, pulling aside a curtain to reveal a narrow exam table. Trapped, I shuffled after him and perched on the edge, fingers knotting in my shirt.
"D-Doctor… how exactly are you going to…?"
"Remove your bra and lift your shirt."
My mouth went dry. "You need to see?"
As someone who'd never even changed in front of a roommate, the idea of stripping in front of this guy—this stranger—sent my pulse into overdrive. I squirmed. "C-Can't I keep my bra on?"
Ethan arched a brow, amused. "Relax. To me, you're just anatomy. If all patients acted like you, male doctors would be out of a job."
No arguing with that. I muttered an apology, hands trembling as I reached behind my back to unhook my bra. The room felt suffocating, my breaths loud in the silence.
Then it hit—that familiar, unbearable pressure. If I waited any longer, my uniform would be ruined.
Teeth clenched, I yanked my shirt up and squeezed my eyes shut. Cool air prickled against exposed skin, my chest rising with shallow, uneven breaths.
The thought of him seeing—knowing—sent a weird, electric heat crawling under my skin.
"Beautiful."
The word was casual, effortless. Then—warm hands settled against me, and my stomach dropped.
I've never even held hands with a guy, yet here I am, lactating like some postpartum mom. And it's not just a little—it's a flood. If I don't pump every few hours, I'm at risk of mastitis, which sounds about as fun as a root canal.
Military training made everything worse. The stiff camouflage uniform rubbed my skin raw with every drill, leaving me sore, itchy, and desperate. By the third day, I was on the verge of tears, with no choice but to drag myself to the campus clinic.
That afternoon, after a rushed shower, I slipped into the only open infirmary on the third floor. Thank God for the new campus—everyone else was too exhausted from the drill sergeants' torture to wander around. The hallway was eerily empty.
Heart hammering, I tugged off my face mask and knocked.
"Come in." A crisp, no-nonsense voice answered. Male.
My instincts screamed run, but the dull ache in my chest left no room for hesitation. Face burning, I pushed the door open and slumped into the chair across from the desk, eyes glued to my lap.
"What brings you in, Miss?" His tone was calm, almost gentle—definitely younger than I'd expected.
The question made my cheeks flare hotter. "I-I need a sick leave note…"
"Half the girls here try to skip training. I only write excuses for real issues." He didn't look up from his notes. "What's wrong?"
"My… chest."
The words stumbled out before I could stop them. Curiosity got the better of me, and I peeked up.
The man across the desk was unfairly attractive—sharp cheekbones, gold-rimmed glasses perched on a straight nose, that quiet intensity of a guy who'd be plastered all over campus crush lists. His lab coat was pristine, his skin pale against the dark fabric. A staff ID dangled from his neck: Ethan Roscente.
"Lie down over here. I'll examine you."
He stood, pulling aside a curtain to reveal a narrow exam table. Trapped, I shuffled after him and perched on the edge, fingers knotting in my shirt.
"D-Doctor… how exactly are you going to…?"
"Remove your bra and lift your shirt."
My mouth went dry. "You need to see?"
As someone who'd never even changed in front of a roommate, the idea of stripping in front of this guy—this stranger—sent my pulse into overdrive. I squirmed. "C-Can't I keep my bra on?"
Ethan arched a brow, amused. "Relax. To me, you're just anatomy. If all patients acted like you, male doctors would be out of a job."
No arguing with that. I muttered an apology, hands trembling as I reached behind my back to unhook my bra. The room felt suffocating, my breaths loud in the silence.
Then it hit—that familiar, unbearable pressure. If I waited any longer, my uniform would be ruined.
Teeth clenched, I yanked my shirt up and squeezed my eyes shut. Cool air prickled against exposed skin, my chest rising with shallow, uneven breaths.
The thought of him seeing—knowing—sent a weird, electric heat crawling under my skin.
"Beautiful."
The word was casual, effortless. Then—warm hands settled against me, and my stomach dropped.
End of My Campus Doctor's Forbidden Cure Chapter 1. Continue reading Chapter 2 or return to My Campus Doctor's Forbidden Cure book page.