By the time we’ve run the tests and we’re waiting on lab results, I decide I’m ready to face of wrath of Dr. Sebastian Walker. I stand outside his office, my hand hovering over the doorknob as if it might burn me. The hallway stretches emptyin both directions, most of the staff busy with patients in other wings. My heart pounds against my ribs, a mix of nerves and anticipation making my fingers tremble slightly. I spent all morning poking the bear, and now I'm about to walk straight into his den.
Without knocking, I push the door open and slip inside before I can talk myself out of it.
Sebastian sits behind his desk, head bent over charts, completely absorbed in his work. His white coat is draped over the back of his chair, and he's rolled his sleeves up to expose those forearms that never fail to make my mouth go dry. He hasn't noticed me yet, and for a moment, I just watch him—the furrow of concentration between his brows, the way his fingers trace lines of text as he reads, the slight downturn of his mouth as he makes notes in the margin.
The door clicks shut behind me, and his head snaps up. For a split second, surprise flashes across his features before his expression settles into something darker, more controlled. But his eyes, those eyes can't lie. They darken the moment they land on me.
"Dr. Phillips," he says, voice deceptively calm. "I don't recall scheduling a meeting."
I don't answer. Instead, I cross the room with deliberate steps, circling his desk until I'm standing directly beside him. His body tenses, though he doesn't move, doesn't look up at me again. Just keeps reading his chart as if I'm not even there.
Two can play that game. I hitch myself onto the edge of his desk, right in front of him, my legs dangling just inches from his chair. Papers crinkle beneath me, and I hear his sharp intake of breath.
"Dr. Phillips," he repeats, his voice carrying a warning edge now. "What are you doing?"
"Getting your attention," I reply, keeping my voice light even as my heart hammers. "Since you've been so determined to avoid looking at me all morning."
Sebastian stands in one fluid motion, and suddenly he's looming over me, planting his hands on either side of my hips, effectively caging me in against the desk. His face is inches from mine, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath.
"What the hell were you doing during rounds?" he growls.
Tilting my head, I meet his gaze directly. My heart is racing so fast I'm sure he can hear it, but I keep my voice steady. "The truth? I was riling you up on purpose. You're looking through me, not at me, like this weekend never happened."
His jaw ticks, that same muscle jumping that I'd been watching all day. His fingers flex against the desk on either side of me. "You deliberately undermined my authority in front of patients and staff," he says, voice tight. "Because you were feeling ignored?"
Put like that, it sounds childish. But we both know it's more complicated than that. "No," I counter. "I challenged your medical decisions because they needed to be challenged." I lean in closer, putting me nearly nose to nose with him. "The fact that it got under your skin was just a bonus."
His nostrils flare slightly. "You think this is a game?" His voice drops even lower, a dangerous rumble that sends heat pooling between my legs. "Testing me in front of the others, pushing to see how far I'll let you go before I snap?"
"Is it working?"
Something shifts in his eyes then, the anger giving way to something darker, something more delicious. His right hand moves from the desk to my throat, long fingers wrapping around it with just enough pressure to make my pulse jump beneath his touch. My breath catches as a jolt of desire shoots through me.
"Actions have consequences, Mia," he murmurs. His thumb traces my jawline, a deceptively gentle touch that contrasts with the heat in his eyes. His fingers tighten fractionally. "You spend all morning challenging me, pushing me, and then come into my office and plant yourself on my desk like you own it. Like you own me."
"Don't I?" The words, breathy and bold, escape before I can stop them.
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. "You have no idea what you do to me."
"Then show me," I whisper.
The last thread of his control snaps. His mouth crashes down on mine, hard and demanding. His hand is still wrapped around my throat, and he digs his fingers into my skin, applying the slightest amount of pressure. The kiss is nothing like the ones we shared over the weekend, this is punishment, domination, and a battle for control I'm suddenly not sure I want to win.
His tongue pushes past my lips, demanding entrance that I eagerly grant. My hands fly to his shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle there as I arch into him.
Just when I'm about to pull him closer, to wrap my legs around his waist and demand more, he breaks the kiss. We're both breathing hard, his eyes nearly black with desire as he looks down at me.
"You want my attention?" he says, voice rough. "You have it. But you don't get to set the terms anymore." His thumb traces my lower lip, still sensitive from his kiss. "That's my job now."
I swallow hard, feeling the slight pressure of his fingers against my throat as I do. "And what are the terms?"
His smile is slow and predatory, and shit if it doesn’t send a fresh wave of heat between my thighs. "Bad girls don't get to come," he says, his voice dropping low. "But I do."
The hand at my throat slides up to cup my jaw, tilting my face up to his. "You spent all morning pushing me, testing my control," he continues. "Now you get to experience the consequences."
His lips brush against mine, so light it's barely a touch at all.
"Kneel."
