15. Sam
FIFTEEN
Sam
His arm is draped heavily across my waist, palm splayed just below my breast like it belongs there. I’m still catching my breath. My skin is damp, and my trembling thighs are sticky from what just happened.
What just happened?
Jesus.
I’m lying naked in Cole Houston’s bed. His bed. My head is on his chest, and I'm listening to his heartbeat as his breathing slows.
I shift slightly. The sheet slides down my hip, cooling where his mouth had been minutes ago. My body still hums, my legs are still boneless.
I’m pretty sure I moaned something wildly unprofessional when he kissed the inside of my thigh.
“You’re awake,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, that just-fucked rasp that wrecks me all over again.
“I wasn’t planning on falling asleep naked in your bed,” I say, my voice rougher than I expect.
He laughs softly, warm breath against my shoulder. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping at all, to be honest. ”
“You’re cocky.”
“Confident.” His hand slides up, lazily tracing a path from my stomach to the underside of my breast.
"You want more?"
“I'll always want more of you, Samantha Taylor.”
I nudge him with my heel. “You talk too much after sex.”
“You didn’t say that when I had my mouth on you.”
Heat floods my face. “That was pretty fucking amazing. Okay, I take it back. Good tactic.”
"I'll keep that in mind for next time."
"Next time, huh?" I poke him in the ribs and he shifts, laying my head on the bed while he props himself back up on his elbow.
“Countertop sex. Bold choice,” I murmur into the dark, drinking in the moonlit lines of his square jaw. This man is too damn good-looking for anyone's well-being. Holy shit.
He huffs a quiet laugh. “I didn’t hear you complaining about that either.”
“I might tomorrow, when I can’t feel my left ass cheek.”
He grins. “Still not worse than your patio lounger.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, rolling onto my elbow to face him. "You were the one on your back. You tell me."
“That lounger had personality. Just saying.”
“It definitely felt more like we’d snap it in two than the stone did.”
“Exactly. Sets the mood. Makes it all the more reckless.”
His hand slides into my hair, fingers threading through the tangles. “We could always go for round two out there. I'm not opposed.”
I let out a low laugh, the kind that doesn’t quite reach the surface. He watches me with a sincere, thoughtful look. If I weren’t smarter, I might think he was falling for me. But we both know this is just temporary fun.
“I can hear you thinking,” he says, voice low.
My jaw tightens, just for a second.
“Not judging,” he adds, softer now.
"Thinking about how much I enjoyed that."
“Stay here with me. For a minute.”
I let out a breath. The kind that says I might bolt. The kind that admits I won’t.
“I am here,” I say.
His thumb brushes my cheek. “Good. I want you all to myself.”
The sheet slips low on his hips, exposing the hard plane of his stomach and that infuriatingly perfect V-line.
"You've got me. In this moment. That's all that matters, right?"
"I know I’m only here for one more week. Can I have you for that long?"
"I think we can manage that. What happens when you leave?"
Shit. Why did I ask that? I sound like a desperate girl. I know what happens after he leaves. I came into this knowing.
"I didn’t mean to ask that. I know what happens."
“You want to dissect this. But you don’t have to. Not tonight.”
“I don’t do this,” I admit, voice barely above a whisper.
"Do what?"
“Sleep with neighbors. Or men I barely know. Or people connected to the hospital.”
He’s quiet for a beat. "There’s always a first time, right?”
That should feel like too much. But it doesn’t. It settles somewhere deep, a strange kind of comfort I didn’t ask for but might want anyway.
“You always this convincing?” I ask.
He smirks. “Only when I want something.”
“And what do you want?”
He leans in, kissing the top of my shoulder. “You.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I curl back into his side, and he wraps his arm around me like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
I shouldn’t feel safe here. But I do.
He rests his chin on my head. “Get some sleep, Taylor. You’re gonna need your strength.”
I’m not sure if that’s a flirt or an omen.
Something tells me I’ve gotten myself in deeper than I can handle.
The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting everything in that godawful hospital glow that makes even healthy people look borderline septic.
I’ve been staring at the same sentence in this patient chart for twenty straight minutes, and I still couldn’t tell you if it says “fracture” or “furnace.”
My coffee sits untouched beside my keyboard. It's lukewarm and completely unappetizing.
I shift in my chair and wince. Yep. There it is. The unmistakable ache of a night well spent. A bruised ass and thighs. That's a new combo for me.
I press my fingers to the spot on my neck where his teeth grazed too hard. Small. Faint. But it’s there. And I keep touching it like I want it to last.
That’s why I’m still wearing my damn lab coat, even though it’s muggy as hell in here. The collar hides him .
My phone buzzes. I reach for it out of habit, hoping it’s someone who’ll demand I get up and check on someone stat.
It's a text from Arden.
I want every stinking detail. Can you talk?
I snort and call her instead.
She picks up on the first ring.
“Okay. How was the band? Screw the band. How was Cole?"
"Well..."
"Was there eye contact during a slow song? Did he put a hand on your lower back? Did you beg him to ravish you in the moonlight? Don’t give me this 'well' shit. You know I'm not stopping until I know.”
I close my eyes, already laughing. “Would you believe me if I said yes to all of that, plus three orgasms and several bruises, one I keep touching when no one’s looking to remind me of the pain and pleasure I experienced in erotic symphony?”
There’s a moment of silence, and then a dramatic gasp. “YOU DID IT.”
“I did it. Repeatedly. In locations never before seen by my bare ass.”
“I knew it! Thank God you loosened up that tight asshole of yours and let your hair down. Why didn't you text me the TL;DR this morning? You know I've been pacing, dying to know, even with my plate full here.”
“I’ve been working. And walking funny.”
Arden howls. “You slut! Tell me everything. ”
“I’m at the hospital, Arden. I'm trying to get charts done. Can we do the detailed debrief later? ”
“So? Whisper it. Morse code it. Send me an anatomical drawing.”
I rub my temple. “Fine. It started on the counter in his house. Then his bed, then again when the sun came up, and I was still naked and somehow not even a little mad about it.”
“Jesus. Was it like a just-for-now thing, or are we talking feelings? Because I'm not reading this about-face.”
I hesitate.
"Definitely just for now. I accidentally asked what happens when he's done here, and it was crickets. I retracted immediately, but God. I wanted to choke myself."
“Oh my God, you caught feelings.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t not say it. Why else would you even ask that? You know.”
I sigh. “I know. I have no idea, Ar. He’s good. Like, ruin-you-for-other-men good. But I know this is temporary, okay? So don't try to get in my head with this. He leaves in exactly eight days. Or, it might be seven now. It doesn't matter, this has a shelf life, end of discussion."
"Got it. So, did you talk any more about board stuff? Can you have sex and get some help there, too?"
"We didn't, but I do plan to. Now that I'm not trying to avoid him."
"Good girl."
"He likes to talk during sex. Maybe I’ll bring it up then. ”
We both lose it.
“That's a twist.”
“It's hot as fuck. I never knew I liked that until I got it.”
Arden goes quiet for half a second. “Okay, then go where it takes you. Did it feel good?”
“Too good.”
“Then keep going, sister. That’s you being a human woman with needs. And hormones. And what I’m assuming is a spectacular view.”
“It was.” I press a palm to my chest.
She lets out a sound somewhere between a shriek and a dying hyena. “I hate you. In a deeply jealous, supportive way.”
“Ar, he kept looking at me like I was the only woman for him. I'd pay good money for that look.”
“Well. Damn.”
“Yeah.”
“Was he worth it?”
A slow smile creeps up my face. “Oh, yeah.”
“Then good. Be smart, and carry on.”
A ridiculous wave of adrenaline hits me. I’m grinning like an idiot when?—
“Shit!”
“What? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sorry. One of my clients just sent a dick pic to a group chat full of sponsors, so now I’ve got a full-blown image crisis to spin, on top of the topless jet ski scandal from this morning.”
I wince. “Your life should be a Netflix series.”
“You’re telling me. I’ll call you later. And I want every detail. Especially the countertop.”
She hangs up before I can say goodbye.
My phone buzzes again immediately. A bubble appears with a text from Cole.
Can I see you after work?
My stomach flips while my thumb hovers over the screen.
Shit. This is real.
Holy shit .
I have no idea what to say back, so I do the only thing that makes sense. I toss my phone on the desk like it might explode.
Then I stare at it, waiting for smoke.
I don't even remember saying yes to dinner, but here I am. Now, here I am, on Cole’s back deck with my hair still damp from a rushed post-shift shower.
I brought sushi, like that makes it casual. Like it cancels out the fact that my stomach’s been fluttering like a goddamn high schooler’s since I saw his name light up my phone.
He passes me a glass of wine and sinks into the chair beside me. It's one of those wide Adirondacks angled just enough that we’re half-facing each other. Close, but not touching.
“Heard there was a big wreck on 95. We were just getting out of a meeting when I heard all the hubbub. Were you working on them?”
I sip. “No, I didn't get to scrub in today, I was working pre-op. Kip, my good friend who is a fourth-year resident, was on two of the cases. It was bad."
"Geez. I'm not sure I'd be cut out for ER work."
"Me, either. The most exciting thing I had was the woman who tried to sneak a dog into pre-op.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Did it have credentials?”
“Emotional support, allegedly. But she didn’t appreciate being asked to kennel her cockapoo before surgery.”
I pull the light blanket tighter that Cole gave me when he saw me shivering. The air is warm, but the strong breeze is a little nippy tonight.
“Hospital policies are heartless,” he says, deadpan .
I laugh quietly. “You joke, but I’ve been writing memos all week trying to soften the edges of what’s coming. I've been putting together patient testimonials in preparation for the vote.”
I don’t finish the sentence. He knows what I mean.
Cole leans back, watching the tide creep in. “You still think you can sway the vote?”
“I have to try.” I turn toward him more fully.
He clears his throat.
“There’s this assumption that hospitals need to run like corporations. But when you gut the heart of a place, what’s left? Efficiency doesn’t comfort a family in the ICU.”
His jaw shifts slightly. That tic I caught once before when I mentioned all this political and financial garbage swirling beneath the surface. He masks it quickly, lifts his glass. But his voice stays even.
“I wouldn’t be so sure it’s worth the fight.”
That catches me off guard. I blink at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Cole’s eyes stay on the water, but I can feel the shift.
“I mean, sometimes a restructure isn’t about greed. Sometimes it’s just what keeps the doors open and makes sense, so a hospital can keep helping people.”
I scoff, but it’s quieter than I intend. “You sound like every consultant that’s ever tried to gut a place and call it mercy.”
“I’m not saying I agree with all of it,” he says, almost too quickly.
"What are you saying, Cole?"
“The vote isn’t some evil coup, Sam. The people behind it aren’t cartoon villains. They’re real. And they’ve assessed that the old model’s not sustainable. Maybe the only way to save it long-term is to change it.”
He finally looks at me, and there’s something so calm in his expression, it disarms me. Like he’s not trying to win, but he’s trying to get me to consider it.
I narrow my eyes. “Why are you defending them?”
“I’m just saying, maybe this isn’t black and white. Maybe saving what your mother built means letting it evolve. Even if it looks different on the other side.”
The words sting more than they should. Not because they’re mean, but because they sound reasonable .
I smile, but it doesn’t fully land. My chest tightens. “I’m serious, though. If you know anything, if there’s something I can do to help shift this vote, please tell me.”
Cole’s jaw flexes again. He looks at me like he’s weighing every possible version of the truth, then finally exhales.
“I wish there were something I could tell you.” His voice is low, and he leans in and brushes his thumb across my cheek.
Before I can respond, he continues, “But I think the train’s already moving, Sam. And I don’t want you standing on the tracks.”
I look at him for a long second, trying to read what’s behind his eyes. But they’re too careful tonight. Guarded.
"Interesting analogy."
“It doesn’t mean you stop fighting for what matters to you. It might just mean you pivot when things evolve.”
“That’s not exactly reassuring. You just told me to duck before the train hits me,” I say, forcing a small smile.