“Not yet.”
I shift my angle and thrust harder, bracing one palm onto the mattress, while my other wraps around her throat again, firmer this time.
She lets out the kind of noise that makes my dick twitch. Half sob, half moan, all pleasure.
“You’re mine right now,” I growl. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she gasps out. “Yours,fuck—”
I lean back, moving my hand down to slap her clit once, and she writhes under me.
She’s trembling now, thighs shaking as they dip wider to let me sink deeper, pussy fluttering around me, right on the edge.
I dip and take a nipple into my mouth, sucking hard, grazing it with my teeth and grunting against her skin when she cries out.
"Fuuuck, Reid!"
“Come for me, baby.”
Her whole body arches, a guttural moan catching in her throat, her walls pulsing around me as I let go and follow her over, spilling deep inside her with a long whimper.
“Good girl,” I whisper.
We stay like that for a few moments, our chests heaving, limbs tangled, her hands gripping my back like she doesn’t want to let go.
I press a kiss to her temple, then her jaw, then the corner of her mouth.
Mine for now.
But fuck, it’s not enough.
Chapter thirteen
Don’t forget to write what you need
Carina
The scalpel slices clean, but my patience is already fraying.
“Retract a little higher,” I murmur.
The junior on suction misses the cue entirely, leaving a fine mist of blood to bloom up the side of my glove.
“Higher,” I repeat, sharper this time.
He startles, nearly knocking the retractor loose. I exhale through my nose, flexing my jaw behind the surgical mask. There’s a pause in my hands that only I would notice—just half a second too long, not enough to compromise anything, but just enough to betray me.
I’m tired.
And not the regular kind. Not the surgical-residency, twenty-eight-hour-call, skipped-lunch-again kind. This is a bone-deep exhaustion. A throb in my temples and a pinch behind my eyes that won’t let up, no matter how many coffees I guzzle in stolen moments.
Moreno’s voice cuts in calmly from across the table. “Let’s recenter. Dr. Park, you’re good to close once we get that tendon secured.”
I nod. I’m efficient. Professional. I know how to do this on autopilot.
Except my brain is a traitor, because in the quiet stretch of focus, between the clamp and suture, my mind drifts again.
Not to Levi’s funding and trial that we’ve finally got movement on, not to the hospital board email I need to answer.
