Chapter 14
SULLIVAN
The second the paper gown touched my skin, I knew I’d been a fool. I didn’t even make it a full second before my brain started screaming.
Contrary to the description on the supplier website, the paper wasn’t soft or neutral. It was like rubbing against fiberglass, stiff, scratchy, and wrong in a way that immediately set my teeth on edge.
Every nerve in my body lit up in protest, and my first, strongest instinct was to shred the thing off and pretend this had never happened, but I was stubborn. What was worse was that I’d agreed to this in front of her.
Thankfully, I still had my go-to for when I was uncomfortable, which was to pretend like it was no big deal. Like it didn’t bother me. In this case, like my skin wasn’t already turning hypersensitive beneath the thin paper and I wasn’t actively fighting the urge to claw at my own torso.
I rolled my shoulders, trying to be casual about it, but the gown rasped against me, loud and unforgiving. Goddamn.
Behind me, Bree cleared her throat. I could feel her there, too close, the faint scent of antiseptic soap and something warmer radiating from her making it hard to focus on anything else.
Frankly, on that front, it was probably a good thing this gown was so fucking awful, because without it against my skin, things would’ve been getting pretty hard with that scent of her on every inhale.
“This is fine,” I said lightly, as if I wasn’t already regretting every decision that had led me to this moment. “It’s really not so bad.”
Finally, when I’d managed to school my expression—and get my body under control—enough to turn, I expected to find her smirking.
Instead, her cheeks were pink, but she wasn’t flushed like she was embarrassed.
It was more like she was trying very hard not to be—or like maybe this didn’t have anything to do with embarrassment at all.
Her gaze flicked to my chest, then away. Then back again, the glances quick and involuntary, like she physically couldn’t help herself.
Well. This is… distracting.
Since I wasn’t wearing enough to let myself indulge that particular distraction, however, I straightened, ignoring the way the paper pulled and scraped, and focused on her face instead.
Her mouth was set in a determined line. That spark in her eyes that had gotten her into my office in the first place.
She looked fired up, smug, and flustered all at once, and it did absolutely nothing to help the situation developing beneath this gown of agony, but I could not let her see that. It would be crossing a line—and one I’d already come dangerously close to just by letting her put the damn thing on me.
“How does it feel?” she asked, and unless I was imagining things, her voice was just a little huskier than usual. “Do you want to try to move in it? Sit?”
Immediately, I took her suggestion. Even if it was mostly to give myself an excuse to put some much-needed distance between us. I moved toward the chair by the table and sat, aiming for casual and in control, but the second the paper bunched beneath me, I was back on my feet.
Pretending to have forgotten something, I adjusted the hem and shifted my weight. Doing pretty much anything but sit still, because sitting still meant the gown pressed, and crinkled, and rubbed in a way that made my skin crawl.
Bree’s eyebrow arched. “And?”
“It’s fine.” I waved a hand. “I’m just stretching.”
She folded her arms as she kept watching me like she was waiting for something, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. “Patients often have to lie down or sit for extended durations of time. Some can’t move, even if they want to, and others have been advised against it. Rest promotes healing.”
She said it like she was reading a pamphlet on patient care out loud, but I saw it for what it was. Bree was calling me out on not being able to sit down for even one damn second while certain patients in this hospital had been stuck in these for days, either lying or sitting down the entire time.
The mere thought of it nearly made me cringe, but I figured that maybe if I tried to distribute the contact points, it would be better. I went for the chair again, but before I’d even planted my ass on it, the gown made a sound like an angry grocery bag.
Sweat broke out along my spine, equal parts discomfort and self-inflicted torture. Internally, I was screaming, but I kept my face neutral and my posture relaxed, like this was all perfectly fine and I wasn’t counting down the seconds until I could tear this thing off and set it on fire.
Meanwhile, Bree was definitely enjoying this now. Laughter sparkled in those blue eyes that had popped up in one too many of my dreams, a smug curve on her lips that she couldn’t hide anymore.
“Are you okay?” she asked, innocence dialed up to a level I didn’t believe for a second.
“Never better.”
She tilted her head and her eyes flicked down. It was just for a moment before they snapped back up, her cheeks going even redder, but even that one tiny glance did something dangerous to my focus.
As soon as it slipped, I felt my cock starting to wake up and alarm sirens went off in my mind. Fuck, no. I’m practically naked right now.
I shifted again, the paper protesting loud enough that there was no hiding the movement. Bree’s eyes finally came back to mine. “You know, it sure looks like you can’t get comfortable.”
“I’m fine.”
“Mm-hmm.” She leaned back against the table now, clearly settling in. “I can get you a cloth gown if you like.”
I shot her a look, but she just flashed me a smile that was so sweet, it almost made my teeth ache. “Oh, wait. I can’t do that. Some genius got rid of them.”
Giving up on the idea of sitting, I walked around the table. After checking my phone, I went over to the window, glancing out and wondering if rolling around on the floor of the patient parking area below would help soothe my skin.
“Stop pacing,” she said. “You’re making me dizzy.”
“I’m not pacing. I’m strategically repositioning.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve repositioned twelve times in under a minute.”
“It’s only because that chair was extremely unsupportive and I’m waiting for an email.”
“The chair? An email?” she repeated. “Are you sure it’s not the sandpaper onesie eating your skin alive?”
“It’s fine,” I said tightly. “I barely feel it.”
I took one more step, then another, and a wince slipped free. Bree clocked it immediately. “Oh my God, you’re sweating.”
“So? I always sweat. It’s really hot in here.”
“It’s really not,” she said, sounding more and more delighted with every word. “I’m also not sure if you’ve noticed this, but you’re twitching too.”
“I’m energized.”
She grinned. “You look like a man trying not to scratch poison ivy on your privates in public.”
“Nah, I could go the rest of the day like this,” I said. “I’ll even sleep in it tonight.”
“Please do,” she said. “I’ll come with you to your meetings. Dinner. Just to make sure you really commit.”
I stopped, clenched my jaw, and tugged at the neckline. Bree watched every move I made as if she was waiting for it to happen, and a minute later, it did.
“Okay,” I snapped. “That’s it. They’re terrible.”
She grinned like she’d just won an Olympic medal, entirely too pleased with herself. “I don’t really hate to say it. In fact, it gives me great, great pleasure to be able to look you in the eyes and say, I told you so.”
I glanced down at the paper gown one last time as it rasped against my ribs, my skin buzzing with irritation, and I couldn’t take another second. I grabbed the thin material and tore it straight down the middle, the sound loud and violent in the quiet conference room as it came off.
“Thank fuck,” I growled. “Those things shouldn’t be legal. Whoever manufactures them should be arrested and sentenced to a life wearing nothing else.”
Laughter burst out of her, bright and victorious. “I knew it. I knew that as soon as you actually put one on, you wouldn’t be able to deal. No one can. It’s inhumane.”
I tossed the shredded remains of the torture device onto the table, finally understanding what all those calls were about and even agreeing with the accusations I’d faced. “We’ll go back to the old ones. Today. I didn’t have them thrown out or anything. They’re just in storage.”
I paused for a beat before I added, “This was a test. A failed one. Obviously.”
She crossed her arms, practically vibrating with satisfaction. “Would you look at that? The mighty Sullivan Crowne actually listening to nurses. Growth looks good on you, boss man.”
“Can’t you be a gracious winner?” I asked, moving into her space before I could stop myself.
She tipped her chin up, her eyes flashing. “Oh, absolutely not. You were so confident and sure, but look at you. You didn’t even last ten minutes.”
When she gestured vaguely at my bare chest, something feral curled low in my gut. I took yet another step closer, my eyes locked on hers. “I admitted I was wrong. Isn’t that enough?”
“Nope.”
I leaned in closer, my voice dropping without conscious intent to lower it. “You really enjoy pushing your luck, don’t you?”
Her breathing hitched just slightly. “Someone has to.”
As our gazes clashed and held, I saw a flicker of heat in hers that melted my restraint. I didn’t even try to fight the impulse to lift my hand to the side of her neck, my mouth already descending to hers. I took her lips in a kiss that wasn’t gentle or careful.
This was weeks of tension snapping all at once, a culmination of frustration, heat, hate, and want.
Her lips parted in surprise, but then she was kissing me back just as hard, her hands sliding into my hair and pulling me closer.
Her fingers closed into fists around the strands like she’d been waiting for this as long as I had and wanted it just as much.
There was no hiding the effect she had on me now. I was practically naked, my front sealed to hers while I stood wearing only my underwear. My hands went to her waist, holding her tighter against me until she was so close that I knew my body would remember her shape.
She tasted like coffee and something sweet, and when she made a small sound against my mouth, my control slipped another inch. We backed into the table, knocking into it, the world narrowing to the press of her body and the way she kissed me like she was done holding back too.
It all happened in the space of seconds, but then she froze, her hands stilling in my hair as she pulled back. Breathless with her eyes wide, she stared at me like she’d just woken up.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No. This can’t happen.”
“Bree—”
She stepped away fast, putting distance between us so abruptly that I almost stumbled forward. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Bree.”
She didn’t stop moving, spinning toward the door without missing a beat. “I shouldn’t have come in here.”
Rushing out before I could say another word, she shut the door behind her while I stood there with my chest heaving and the silence crashing down around me.
After a long moment, I dragged a hand through my hair and swore under my breath, grabbing my shirt and tugging it on with less care than usual, my thoughts a mess of irritation and regret.
Despite telling myself earlier that I couldn’t cross that line, I’d stampeded right through it.
I knew that, but alone in that conference room, replaying the way she’d kissed me back, I couldn’t decide if that was the huge mistake I’d made, or if the real mistake had been letting her walk away after.