Chapter 14
By the final days of March, Roan decided he hated call days more than he hated sitting through a twelve-hour spinal fusion surgery.
“Is it time to get up?” Clarissa breathed into his chest from her position on his chest.
It gave him no comfort that he’d whisk her to his place on her two non-call days. A bunch of her clothing and scrubs had migrated into his closet and three of his dresser drawers. Their nights together barely took the edge off his ever-present craving for her.
Ever since Simone had mentioned her concerns, he had continued his quest to ease anything he could for Clarissa outside the hospital.
Whether they’d been together full-time for their MetroGen sanctioned six weeks or since their first night in June, somehow, her needs had become central to his life.
He’d surrendered without a fight and would have been willing to open a vein for her to make her smile.
Hilariously, she was so astoundingly low maintenance that almost anything he did worked. Sex was easy, but the way she beamed about the simple act of him ordering pizza or reheating dinner was priceless and cheap at the same time.
She shivered, and he placed an experimental hand on her forehead, even though he knew scientifically tactile temps were useless.
“What are you doing?” Clarissa murmured. She’d been dozing for about twenty minutes.
“Checking you for a fever,” Roan said. He grabbed a thermometer from the nearby end table housing both their respective pagers and phones.
“Can’t have a fever. Heme-onc would kick me out. The chief would be mad to find coverage.” Clarissa shook her head.
She was right. The patients she worked with were little kids with no immune systems.
“Might be better if you got one. You could skip lecture.” Roan half-hoped she was sick.
Logically, he understood that most residency programs operated on a call schedule, not a shift schedule.
He’d done plenty of punishing on-calls in his own training, so why the hell was he this annoyed on her behalf?
He allowed himself to imagine she was sick. If she were, he’d be willing to take a ‘sick day’ and join her on his couch by the fireplace. They’d huddle together under the pink and turquoise pillows and quilts while he ladled out Sopa de Pollo Cubano.
“Can’t be sick. Temp scan negative last night. Gotta go to a lecture on M-CHAT screenings.” Clarissa named a pediatric test that was completely meaningless to him.
“Only if you aren’t febrile. Be a good girl and open your mouth.” He used a little more force with his words.
Her sleepy brown eyes opened, sharpening with interest. “Bad daddy.”
And the minx clamped her lips shut.
Amazing, even this tired, she was always ready to play.
“Lissa, open wide.” He caressed the hair spilling out from under her pink-flowered scrub cap.
She shook her head and wiggled her hips on his lap. Despite the layers of his dress pants and her scrubs, his body was getting ready for an act they would NOT be doing in his office.
“I ought to spank you.” He tried to maneuver the thermometer toward her mouth as she dodged him.
She held the advantage by her position on top of him, and gained his acquiesce by kissing him.
Yep, flawless victory for Clarissa. Their kiss convinced him she didn’t have a fever, unless she planned on setting him on fire. She tasted like sleep, syrup, and all his.
Somehow, his shirt was untucked and her scrub top ended up on the floor.
The smooth skin he’d revealed led to him peppering the upper slopes of her breasts and the side of her neck with kisses.
He limited his mouth to skimming the center of her practical white sports bra.
Any more would have made evidence of his attentions impossible to hide.
Not that she was helping him control himself. She had her head flung back, grinding her hips into his the way she did when she rode her Daddy Roan hard.
“Such a bad daddy. Make me feel good?” she asked in the breathy almost-little girl voice.
“Can’t be too good. Maybe a little.” He opted to slide his hand inside her scrub pants, where she was getting warmer and wetter. His fingers would have to do for now since his mouth was currently occupied, and using his cock in his office would start him on a path probably best not taken.
Though the way she was moaning made it more and more appealing.
His index finger was on its way to give her the relief she needed when her pager went off.
Hers used a much peppier beep than his, and no one in their right mind would page the anesthesia chief while he wasn’t technically working yet.
“Seriously?” she rolled off him and onto the floor, on the hunt for her discarded shirt.
“You know they can’t see you.” Roan teased her, mentally cursing whatever asshole needed an updated Tylenol order this minute.
“I can see me. What if I have to run to a code? Again.” Clarissa reminded him of their aborted February makeout session in the L and D call room. Things had gone less than well, though the state of their clothing had been the least of their worries.
He glanced at the offending pager. “It’s not a hospital number. Though 311 is a good call.”
“It’s not 311. It’d be 3111. Willow. W turned sideways.” She cutely wrinkled her nose, fit her arms back into her sleeves. “What is 311?”
“A band.” He named the band that existed before her time and smirked since her scrub top was stuck on her chest. “Also the police code for indecent exposure.”
“Thanks a lot. It’s Willow’s signal that she wants to talk to me but not a total emergency. She’d be on her way to start today’s call, so now is the time.” Clarissa forced down the shirt and searched for her cell phone.
“Nice of her to take up our time,” he grumbled and divided the rest of the electronics between the two of them.
“This isn’t like her. Something must have happened.
Give me a second to check. Well, ten more messages from Tristan and one from Willow,” Clarissa scrolled through her texts on her cell phone and added another layer to his level of forces conspiring to interrupt their alone time.
“She’s asking me to meet her downstairs at the coffee cart. ”
“Tell her come up here. We have coffee.” Roan re-tucked his dress shirt into has pants and retrieved his white coat from his office chair.
“Like a psychiatrist knows how to get into the OR? Her badge might not even work. Are you coming with me?” She had righted her clothing enough to be presentable. “Besides, she’s prepped to cover for us if Tristan ever corners her. He hasn’t given up. Those ten messages are from last night.”
“Fine, she’s a saint. I’m buying.” He’d take whatever time with her he could get, even if it meant sharing his Clarissa-time with Willow.
“Us together? In a public MetroGen hallway? Do you have a fever?” His girlfriend was making an excellent point. He’d made no effort to publicly claim her in MetroGen or to his own department.
“I’m fine. We aren’t a secret here. It’s just that the second the news spreads through the OR floor, I’ll have to deal with time-wasting gossip,” he bemoaned.
She had no clue how many nurse hours were wasted with Alex-Ortho-ER-ENT baby daddy speculation.
They probably had an entire nurse-spy network following each of the major players and reporting back to Dee’s central command.
“Ohh, tongues might wag because you’ll be with two attractive residents from departments you’d never meet naturally,” she teased him. “Scandalous. The anesthesia’s newest threesome.”
“No one would believe you. Should anyone ask, I’ll say it’s my new public service initiative to feed caffeine deprived residents.”
“They’d be confused. Grumpy anesthesia chief turns nice.” She laughed, stepping out into the darkened wider offices of the department of anesthesia.
“Not so fast.” He caught her shoulder and pinned her to the wall. “Open wide.”
She sniggered as he put the thermometer in her mouth. They both patiently waited for it to beep, its lighted display reading a healthy 97.9.
“All good. Just need some coffee to warm me up,” Clarissa said, bobbing her chin, still beyond adorable.
“Got something better.” He leaned in and gave her another open-mouthed kiss. She didn’t fight him, tangling her tongue with his as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Oh. Hey… CHIEF?” The room abruptly brightened, and Drew Crozier’s voice was full of shock.