Chapter 31 Ivy
IVY
Floating through the rest of my shift, I answer a few questions for the nurse taking over, forcing smiles where they’re needed. All the while avoiding the constant pull of the hallway leading to Teddy’s room.
I’ve never blurred the lines with a patient before.
Never even wanted to. But with him, everything feels different.
My pulse jumps when his fingers find mine, and I crave his voice like oxygen.
Sometimes I catch myself lingering on his smile, the one with two fake front teeth after a puck shattered the original pair in high school.
Somehow, even that imperfection makes him more magnetic.
The moment my shift ends, I find myself standing in front of his door. I knock before stepping in, even if he has told me it’s unnecessary. Teddy’s sitting up in bed, his hair damp from a shower. He’s wearing a Woodpeckers hoodie and the hospital blanket is bunched around his waist.
“Damn I have missed you.” His words come out rough, like he hasn’t spoken since the interview two days ago. I love that he knew it was me before I even said a word.
My heart hits my ribs hard enough to bruise. I lock the door behind me and walk over to his bed. “I missed you, too.”
“Come here.”
The words ripple through me. I take one step, then another, until I’m close enough to feel the heat of him. He exhales, voice dropping. “You’re finally here.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I whisper back, though it comes out breathier than I intended.
“And yet, you still showed up. Must mean something.”
I swallow hard as my palms go warm. “Don’t start with me.”
“Too late. I’ve been thinking about you all day.” His fingers brush my hip. “Your smart mouth. Your addicting touch. The cute sound you make when you try not to laugh.”
“Teddy—” I nearly whisper.
“You’re not my nurse anymore,” he reminds me. “And I’m tired of pretending that I don’t want you.”
I sit on the edge of his bed because my legs won’t hold me. His knee grazes mine, just a light touch, and my whole body flares in awareness. His hand finds my wrist, thumb tracing a line that makes every nerve in my body light up.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m not,” I lie, because admitting the truth might unravel the last thread of composure holding me together.
“You are.” His thumb circles again. “Don’t be nervous around me. Not tonight.”
“I shouldn’t be here like this.”
“And yet,” he murmurs, leaning closer, his lips a breath from mine, “here you are.”
That’s when the last bit of restraint snaps. The moment our mouths meet, words become useless. Everything we’ve been holding back spills into the way we kiss instead. His lips move with purpose, slow and sure, even as the tension between us winds tighter and hotter.
I tilt my head, and he follows instantly, deepening the kiss in a way that makes my heart stumble.
His grip tightens at my hips, dragging me flush against him.
A low sound escapes me before I can bite it back.
He swallows it greedily, and the answering groan he lets out vibrates straight down my spine.
My brain shouts about professionalism, but my body drowns it out with want. “We can’t…” I murmur between kisses, though I’m already curling my fingers into his shirt. “Not all the way.”
“I respect your limits,” he promises, lips ghosting across my jaw. “But I can’t not touch you after having a taste.”
Heat rushes through me, pooling low in my belly. God, I’ve been craving this—his mouth, his hands, the way he says my name like it belongs to him. I lean into him, letting my forehead rest against his.
“Then what are you waiting for?” I ask.
A shaky breath escapes him, his hand sliding up my side.
The touch is tentative and I make no move to stop him.
I want it too much to do anything but surrender to the moment.
His palm curls around the back of my thigh, urging me forward.
I toss off my shoes and climb into his lap, straddling him carefully.
My knees sink into the mattress on either side of him.
“Ivy.” His breathless voice wraps around my name. “Tell me if I go too far.”
I hum in response. His hands roam, moving beneath my scrub top.
The contact makes my breath falter. His palms are rough against the warmth of my skin, grounding and electric all at once.
He cups my breasts through the delicate lace of my bra, his thumbs brushing over my nipples in slow, aching strokes that pull a gasp from me.
The air between us is charged, every movement a jolt straight to my core.
Then he stills. It’s so abrupt I sway forward. His hands pause, fingers grazing against the cool press of metal. He’s not a stranger to body modifications, but this is a part of me no one has touched since I got them done two years ago.
“What the—” His voice is a low rasp. “You have your nipples pierced?”
I chuckle at the way his brows shoot up. “What, you thought I was all scrubs and good behavior?”
There’s a long beat before he exhales deeply, a sound that borders on a growl. “Ivy, fuck,” He leans in, mouth brushing my ear. “I’m trying not to come in my pants. That’s so fucking hot.”
The thought that I can undo him sends a shiver through me, pride and desire twisting tight in my chest. “Maybe don’t try so hard.”
He chuckles and pulls my top over my head.
Unfastening my bra, he tosses it on the floor.
Once I’m no longer covered, he finds my nipple again, this time with his tongue.
He swirls it around the piercing. My breath catches on a broken moan as I arch into him, the heat and wetness of his mouth driving me wild.
Moving to the other breast, he repeats the action.
“Holy shit,” he mutters, brushing a knuckle under one titanium barbell.
“These might be my new favorite thing.” He runs his hands over my soft skin like he’s memorizing every inch.
“Finally having you in my arms, it’s better than I ever dreamed.
And trust me, I’ve spent many hours imagining how it would be. ”
His words land deep, striking at my insecurities. Sometimes doubt slips in—would he still find me attractive if he could see what I looked like? But the certainty in his voice wipes that fear away. Right now, I feel beautiful, wanted, and completely seen for who I am.
I reach between us, guiding his hand under the waistband of my scrub pants. His fingers find me wet, and he whimpers. This tall, tattooed hockey player fucking whimpers for me.
“I’ve been dreaming about this, too,” I tell him, grinding on his hand. “About riding your fingers and how good you’d feel touching me where I ache the most for you.”
He curls his fingers, stroking me firmly.
A slow warmth unfurls deep inside me, a flicker that makes every nerve in my body sizzle with awareness.
My hips move, pressing into his hand, greedy for more.
Each brush of his touch sharpens the ache, the tension coiling low in my belly until it’s all I can think about.
The air feels thick in my lungs, my skin flushed and hypersensitive, every inch of me coming alive under his hands.
His thumb finds my clit, rubbing lightly at first. The sensation is so consuming I can’t stop the moan that escapes my throat.
My head falls back, eyes squeezing shut as the world blurs into nothing but his touch.
When he presses harder, pressure builds before it detonates into a burst of stars behind my eyelids.
A cry rips from me as I clench around his fingers, body shuddering with a release so fierce it leaves me trembling.
The orgasm crashes over me in waves, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, leaving me breathless and undone in his arms.
Teddy eases his fingers out, my body still trembling from the aftershocks. Without hesitation, he brings his digits to his mouth, sucking them clean with a low groan like he’s savoring my taste. The sight makes my pulse trip, and my core clenches all over again just from watching him.
I grip his shoulders and start rocking against his dick, the pressure delicious and maddening. Each grind pulls a deeper sound from his chest, a needy mix of restraint and desperation that only fuels me more.
“If you keep doing that, I won’t last long,” he moans, breath hot against my skin.
My mouth finds his in response, desperate and messy, tongues tangling as if we can’t get close enough.
I taste myself on him, intoxicated by the rush it brings.
My hands fist his damp hair, tugging him to me while his lips trail fire across my jaw, down my throat, and then back to my mouth.
Each kiss feels like it’s claiming a piece of me I’ll never want back.
I know the exact moment he loses the battle because his whole body shakes. His grip on my hips brands me, his groan vibrating through both of us. He presses his forehead to my collarbone, breathing heavily.
“Fuck, Ivy,” he gasps, clutching me like I’m the only thing keeping him from falling. “I feel like a goddamn teenager.”
I laugh breathlessly, scattering kisses along his neck. “I wanted to be the one who makes the playboy winger lose it.”
His head snaps up, eyes blazing. “Not another word about my past. There’s only you and me from now on. Okay?”
My heart trips over itself, stunned by the conviction in his voice.
I search his face, finding nothing but honesty there.
My throat tightens with emotions I’m not sure I should feel, not this soon.
But I can’t stop the warmth that spreads through me, the dizzying mix of affection and want.
I cup his face, pressing my lips to his with a softness that contrasts the heat between us.
“Okay,” I whisper against his mouth.
Teddy lifts his hand, fingertips brushing gently along my cheek. “I’ll miss having you in my care team. But let’s be honest; this was a million times better. You fulfilled my every hot nurse fantasy.”
Normally, that kind of line would make my skin crawl.
I’ve heard it on bad dates before. More than one guy has said it with a sleazy grin, reducing my job to some kink or fantasy.
But coming from Teddy, it doesn’t land like that.
There’s no gross undertone or objectifying gleam.
It’s teasing, threaded with admiration. Somehow, it makes my chest tighten instead of my jaw.
“I can’t believe we just did that,” I say. He tenses under me, so I tilt his chin up with my fingers and add, “It was better than what I imagined in every way.”
Relief softens his features and I lean down to claim his lips. He kisses me back with a tenderness only he has ever offered me. When we finally pull apart, his smile is so full of wonder it makes my heart ache. How is this man real?
Teddy’s arms stay around me and I don’t rush to move.
There’s no awkwardness or panic. His fingers trace slow circles on my lower back, making me shiver.
Time seems suspended, neither of us wanting to be the one to break the spell.
But eventually, reality presses back in.
With a reluctant sigh, I get up from his lap.
“If anyone knocks, I’d rather not be half-naked in your lap.” I say softly as I pull on my bra and top, smoothing the fabric into place.
“That would make for a hell of a story for the nurses’ station,” he laughs and gets up to grab a clean pair of sweats.
“Ellie would lose her shit if she knew what happened.”
“So…is this still a secret even if you’re no longer caring for me?”
The hint of insecurity in his voice twists my insides. I move to stand in front of him and cup his face in both hands. “I would love nothing more than to tell everyone about us. But while you’re here as a patient, we have to stay quiet.”
“I get it,” he sighs. “But damn, I wish things were simpler.”
My heart aches at the honesty in his tone. I press my forehead to his, breathing him in, trying to memorize every detail of tonight. Kissing him softly at first, then deeper, I pour every unsaid feeling into the physical connection. He responds instantly, hands cradling my waist.
When we finally break apart, my chest feels tight, not from nerves but from the sheer weight of wanting him. I’m falling, fast and reckless, and for once I don’t want to stop myself.
“Easier or not,” I murmur, brushing another kiss over his lips, “I’m not going anywhere.”
His answering smile is nearly my undoing.
Once I’m fully dressed, I sit beside him on the edge of the bed.
He reaches for my hand, his thumb brushing my knuckles in that soft way he always does.
Grabbing the remote with my other hand, I flick on the TV mounted high on the opposite wall.
Onscreen, Times Square is packed with people waving signs and blowing kisses as the countdown is about to start.
Ten.
Nine.
He doesn’t let go of my hand.
Seven.
I scoot closer, letting my shoulder brush his. My heart pounds, but it’s not nerves. It’s anticipation.
Four.
“Happy New Year, Theodore.”
He turns toward me, mouth twitching into a shy smile. “Happy New Year, Ivy.”
One.
I lean in and kiss him, and the touch is nothing like what we shared earlier.
This one is slower, more deliberate. His lips trace mine with a tenderness that makes my body hum in response.
In the background, cheers erupt and fireworks explode across the screen, but the sound is irrelevant.
Because here, in this small hospital room, there’s only us.
“You know, I’ve never looked forward to a new year before,” he says.
A rush of warmth spreads through me at his words. To be trusted with this soft side of Teddy feels like being handed the keys to a locked room inside him.
“You do now?” I whisper, searching his face even though I already know the answer.
“Only because it starts with you.”
I’ve been convincing myself I’m too busy to date or letting anyone close. Yet here I am, tangled up with a man who sees me—really sees me—and I don’t want to run. The idea of letting him in feels less like a risk and more like relief.
“You’re such a sap.”
“For you?” he flashes a dimpled smile that makes my chest flutter. “Yeah, I am.”
We stay in bed for a while, fingers laced. The new year begins not with parties or champagne, but with the possibility of more.