Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
COLE
I’d been at the hospital all weekend long, save a few hours of actual sleep grabbed in increments between cases.
Friday night had ended with a multi-vehicle pileup on the interstate.
Three critical patients, all coming in hot.
I’d been fighting to keep people alive and hadn’t come up for air until Sunday morning.
By then, I felt like an asshole. The kind who kisses a woman, gets her all worked up, then runs off to be a hero and goes radio silent. I was exactly the kind of doctor I’d complained to Harper about at dinner.
I thought about calling her, but I knew I only had one chance to get it right and didn’t know what to say aside from, “I’m sorry, I got busy.”
That sounded weak.
And right when I was about to dial her number, a gunshot wound came in.
Then a pedestrian versus car. In addition, the flu had decimated the ER staff, so the rest of us were running on fumes. Suddenly it was Monday and I was delirious.
The lounge door opened and Dr. Banks stuck her head in. “Hey. We’re getting a couple patients in—Metro is full.” I groaned. Metropolitan Community Hospital always claimed they were full and couldn’t take more patients, diverting them to RMC. “You here or nah?”
“Nah. I’m burnt to a crisp. I don’t even remember where I live anymore.”
“A’ight. Go home before someone sees you. I’m here and Pat cut his vacation short. He’s about a half hour out.”
Thank God. Dr. Pat Mendoza was an angel. If I thought he would stand for it, I’d kiss him.
I could go home. I could sleep for twelve hours straight.
I could call Harper and grovel properly.
“Yeah. That sounds like a great idea.” I pushed myself up off the lumpy lounge couch, every joint protesting. I wasn’t in my twenties anymore. Hell, I wasn’t in my thirties anymore. I couldn’t do too many of these marathon weekends.
I grabbed my jacket from my locker and headed toward the exit, winding through the ER because it was faster. I was halfway to the door when I saw Harper.
Barreling toward me, her face in her phone, clearly heading home for the night.
She was…beautiful. Even exhausted, even annoyed—I could tell from twenty feet away—she was beautiful.
I wasn’t sure if she saw me and was pretending not to or if she hadn’t seen me, but I planted myself in her way and waited for the collision.
When she ran into me, she jumped back in surprise. There was shock…then I watched her force her expression back to nonchalance.
“Harper…hey.”
“Dr. Vaughn.” Her tone was cold. I was in trouble and deserved to be.
“Uh, I’m glad I ran into you. Or you ran into me. You got a minute to catch up?”
“It’s been a long day, Dr. Vaughn. I’m on my way out. We can talk in the morning—”
“Harper. It’ll only take a minute. Please.”
I watched her consider it, weigh whether I was worth the effort. The please probably helped—I heard how my voice went soft on that word.
“Fine. What?”
I looked around. The ER was too crowded. Too many eyes, too many ears. And a nosy group chat.
“Not here. Let’s go this way.”
I led her down the corridor past radiology, past the lab, into a section of the hospital that was quieter this time of night. I stopped in front of a supply closet I knew would be unlocked and pulled her in, locking the door behind us.
The space was small with narrow shelves lining the walls and a small table pushed against one wall. There was barely room for two people to stand without touching.
“Harper, listen, I’m—”
“You didn’t text me.” Her words hit with such force, it felt like she’d punched me in the face.
“We had all that meaningful conversation about how you love talking to me, then you shoved your tongue down my throat, then you ran off…and I don’t even rate a hello the next morning? It’s just…crickets? All weekend?”
“I know. That’s why I wanted to talk. I’m so, so—”
“It’s been days, Cole. What was that about? It would have been better if we’d just not gone there. I don’t have any openings on the cut-buddy calendar.”
“Okay, I didn’t disappear, Harper. You said you understood a surgeon’s life.
I got pulled into a case that turned into a nightmare and it’s been hell ever since.
You work here—you couldn’t check to see how busy the ER was over the weekend?
I’ve been fighting for my damn life down here.
I could barely remember my own name, much less form a coherent sentence. ”
I watched her try hard to maintain her pout, but it was quickly disappearing. I was wrong for not at least texting her…but I had warned her about what my life was like.
As expected, her shoulders dropped a fraction. “You could have given me a heads-up at least.”
“I could have. I should have. I realized how long it had been and I felt terrible. I decided I’d talk to you in person today, apologize properly. Just…the day got away from me, and…”
I shrugged my shoulders, hoping I looked as pathetic as I felt. “I’m sorry.”
Harper studied my face in the dim overhead light, her eyes drifting from the bags under my eyes to the stubble shadowing my jaw, to the scrubs I’d been wearing for God knows how long.
“Well, you do look terrible,” she said.
“Thanks. That’s what every man wants to hear from a woman he’s into.”
“So…” She crossed her arms over her chest, which pushed her breasts up in a way that was distracting under the circumstances. “Apologize, then.”
I moved in, propping an arm on a shelf above her head. This close, I could see the deep brown of her eyes and watched the way her pupils dilated slightly.
“So…I know we work together. I know it’s a complicated situation.
But I won’t pretend that kiss on Friday night didn’t happen.
I won’t pretend I’ve stopped thinking about you and won’t pretend I don’t want it to happen again.
I’m sorry,” I said, dropping my tone low.
“I’m sorry I didn’t text. I’m sorry I made you think I was blowing you off. I’m sorry I—”
She kissed me.
Put that beautiful mouth right on me. I was surprised, but only because I’d been prepared to grovel more.
The shock of it knocked a grunt from my throat before I could catch myself.
I cupped her face, cradling her jaw in my palms, and kissed her back like I’d been starving for it, my tongue sweeping into her mouth.
Her lips were soft and she opened for me immediately, her tongue slick and warm as it slid against mine, the friction of it making my knees weak. She moaned, pressing herself up against me. The feel and the sound went straight south.
“I missed you,” I whispered against her mouth. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. About doing more than kissing you. I really…really want to do more than kiss you.”
“Prove it.”
My hands slid down to her waist, gripping her hips. “Prove I missed you? That I haven’t stopped thinking about you?”
“The more than kissing me part. That.”
My brain short-circuited. Blood rushed through my body so fast I felt dizzy.
But I wasn’t about to decline.
I gripped her waist and lifted her onto the table in one smooth motion, stepping between her legs. My hands slid under her skirt, up her thighs. Her skin was so warm, so soft under my palms.
“Like here? In this closet?”
She shrugged, offering a grin with a brief look around the space. “You have a better idea?”
I did not. I kissed her again, slower, deeper, savoring her lips. One hand tangled in her hair while the other worked at the buttons of her blouse. When I got it open, I let my palm slide inside.
Beneath my fingertips, her bra felt expensive—smooth satin with delicate lace. Through the fabric, I found her nipple already hardening at my touch. I flicked it gently and Harper’s head fell back against the shelf behind her with a soft thud, her breath coming out in a shaky exhale.
“God, Cole…”
I leaned in to kiss the column of her throat, tasting the salt of her skin. “Harper…if we’re singing the same song, this is a bad idea.”
“I know. I don’t care right now.”
“Someone could walk in.”
“You locked the door,” she said.
“Harper—”
“Cole, please.” The words were ragged at the edges, a plea that went straight to my nerve center. “If you don’t fuck me right now in this closet, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Whatever control I had left snapped like a rubber band. My hands moved faster, pulling her blouse open the rest of the way. I bent my head to her breast, taking her nipple into my mouth through the lace, sucking hard enough to make her arch against me.
I reached under her skirt, my fingers tracing up her inner thigh.
The heat radiating from her was obscene before I even touched her.
When I found the edge of her panties, the fabric was already soaked through.
I pressed my thumb against her damp center and felt her pulse against me, her hips rising in response.
“You’re so wet, baby. Is that for me?”
“I’ve been thinking about doing more than kissing you all weekend too.”
A low, primal groan rolled from my lips.
I pushed her panties to the side, slipping two fingers through her lips.
Her clit was swollen, yearning for attention.
I barely brushed a fingertip over her before Harper gasped, then clamped a hand around the back of my neck.
Her nails dug into my skin as she pulled my mouth back to hers.
She kissed me as I circled her clit, painfully slow at first, then gradually increasing the pressure.
“More,” she pleaded against my lips. “Please, Cole, I need more.”
I worked her slow, watching her face. Cataloging every reaction— how her breath hitched when I pressed just right, the sultry roll of her hips against my hand when I didn’t give her enough pressure, how she dug her heels into the wall behind me, using the leverage to grind hard against my fingers.
She was shameless. Desperate. Sexy.