I lift her onto the exam table—perfect height, I note with satisfaction—and she wraps her legs around me, pulling me closer. The table creaks under our combined weight, probably not designed for this particular medical procedure.
"Someone could come—"
"Then you better be quiet," I tell her, my hand sliding under her scrub top, finding skin that's fever-hot.
She bites her lip, and fuck if that doesn't make me harder. Everything about her makes me harder—her competence, her chaos, the way she saves lives while barely holding her own together.
My hand slides lower, past the waistband of her scrubs, and she gasps.
"Zane—"
"Tell me to stop," I challenge, my fingers finding her already wet. "Tell me you don't want this."
She doesn't. Instead, she rocks against my hand, chasing the pressure, and I nearly lose it right there.
"Good girl," I murmur against her neck. "Taking what you need."
She whimpers—actually whimpers—and I slide one finger inside her, then two, setting a rhythm that has her clutching at my shoulders.
"Say it," I demand, adding a third finger, feeling her stretch around me. "Say you're mine."
"I'm—I'm—"
Her phone rings.
Miguel's ringtone.
"Don't answer," I growl, not stopping my movements.
But she's reaching for it anyway, because of course she is. She's nothing if not self-destructive.
"I have to—he'll come back—"
"Then you better be very quiet," I say, increasing the pressure, finding that spot that makes her eyes roll back.
She answers on the third ring, her voice remarkably steady for someone currently three fingers deep in disaster.
"H-hello?"
"You okay, hermana?" Miguel's voice is tinny through the speaker. "You sound strange."
I curl my fingers, and she bites down on her lip hard enough to draw blood.
"F-fine. Just tired. Cleaning up still."
"Torch says the van's locked."
"Safety protocol," she manages, stealing my earlier lie. "After the Viper."
I lean down, whispering directly in her ear: "Come for me, angel. Right now, while you're lying to him."
Her free hand flies to her mouth, muffling the sound as she shatters around my fingers, her whole body shaking as she comes completely apart. I work her through it, drawing it out, making sure she feels every second of this betrayal.
"Lena?" Miguel's voice, concerned now.
"Sorry," she gasps. "Dropped something. I'm—I'm heading home soon."
"You sure you're okay?"
