Thankfully, she whispers that last bit because — talk about anot suitable for workconversation. But the clatter of a pen on the counter has me peeking back at Max. He heard her, alright.
“Dr. Morgan, if you’re ready, I’d like to get started on rounds.”
I stand up quickly, too quickly, apparently, because the chair I was sitting on rolls across the station. Tina gives me a weird look, but I recover and avoid her attention.
“Yup, I’m ready.” Crap, do I sound breathless? I force my steps to be normally paced as I make my way around the desk to him when what I want to do is to run to him.
We set off, presumably to our first patient, but then Max veers down a hallway. He opens the door to an empty conference room and ushers me in.
The second the door closes behind him, he spins me around, so my back is pressed against it, my hands above my head, pinned in place with one of his as the other trails down my cheek.
“Worshipped by a guy on his knees? Is that what you want?” he growls in my ear, nipping my earlobe with his teeth before soothing it with a press of his lips. The feel of him, combined with the mental picture he paints, sends a rush of wet heat between my legs. Christ, I’m going to need to start keeping extra panties at work.
I bite back a moan as he trails kisses along my jaw before covering my mouth with his. His tongue plunders my mouth. He’s holding his body back from mine, and if my hands were free, I’d be pulling him in to meet me.
“I’ll worship you, Heidi. You’ve already brought me to my knees metaphorically, but if it’s my tongue you want, you’ll have to wait until later.”
“Max,” I sigh, pushing against the hand holding mine. “I need to touch you.”
“No. If you touch me, I won’t be able to keep this under control. You’re too tempting, sweetheart.”
The endearment makes me pause. That’s not keeping things physical. But before I can say anything, he kisses me again, hard and fast. Desperate. Then he steps back, drops my hands, and backs away even farther. His stare is locked on me, his hands in his pockets.
“Tonight.”
He says that one word like a promise. I lick my lips as I nod. Slowly he steps forward, withdrawing one hand from his pocket to stroke a finger down my cheek.
“I knew it would be a challenge working with you now that we’ve given in to this. But fuck. Not being able to touch you when you’re next to me is…”
“Anticipation?” I supply with an impish smirk, my worry over the pet name forgotten. “Foreplay, even?”
His deep chuckle brings him closer, and his forehead drops to meet mine. “Sure, let’s go with that. Twelve hours of torturous foreplay until I get you alone again.”
Needless to say, over the course of our shift, the anticipation continued to build. He didn’t kiss me again, there were no stolen moments, but our physical chemistry is undeniable. I could feel it, vibrating between us, the entire day. It’s a miracle no one else did.
But a voice in my head became louder as well, warning me to hold back. The intensity of the last few days hits me in the shower while I’m shaving my legs and thinking about tonight. We’ve gone from enemies, to a fragile understanding, to confessing our secrets, and finally, giving in to our attraction — in a matter of a few days.
It's a lot, and my head is spinning, to say the least. For all that keeping it casual and only physical feels safer, I must admit, I want him.All of him.
If he wants all of me. Which, I realize, I don’t even know. We were so caught up in the physical pull between us, and in setting the ground rules for how to handle our attraction at work, we never actually spoke about what this is. For all I know, he’s just looking for a casual forbidden fling.
The possibility of that, along with my mixed reaction to the idea of being nothing more than a fling, even though it would be a hell of a lot smarter for me, has me chewing on my thumbnail as I open up a video chat with Skye.
“Hey, baby cakes,” she says cheerfully once the call connects.
“I have a date with Max Donnelly and I don’t know what to wear,” I blurt out. Skye’s mouth falls open and her eyes bug out, and the whole look is so amusing, I snort-laugh.
“Hold on. Wait. What the heck did you just say?” she sputters. “Wait. Do I get to say I told you so? Oh my God, did you have storage room sex?”
“No, no, no.” I laugh, already feeling less nervous. “No sex. Just a kiss. And a dance. And now a date.”
“That’s a lot! Shit, okay. Deep breaths, Skye.”
“I’m the one who needs to breathe, woman, I’m the one with the date.”
She flaps her hand in the air. “Hush. I’m doing some calming breaths.”
I sit down on the edge of my bed, aware that my drama queen of a best friend needs a minute. Sure enough, a few seconds later, her eyes open and she looks at me, her excitement for me palpable, even through a phone screen.
