Page 33 of Careless Whisper

I found Elias in the on-call room, which was off the cardiology wing. It had a creaky door and bad lighting. He was still in scrubs, one of those lousy hospital pillows folded under his head, and his arm flung over his face like he was trying to block out the entire world.

I stood in the doorway for a second, uncertain. Then I made up my mind and stepped inside, closing the door behind me.He sat up as soon as he heard it latch, blinking at me like he wasn’t sure I was real.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” I leaned against the closed door.

“You don’t have to?—”

“No, I do.” I straightened. “You came for me.” I stepped closer. “You pushed past everyone, broke protocol, and walked straight into an active Code Silver. You didn’t have to.”

His blue eyes held mine.“I did.”

We weren’t in the OR now. We weren’t hiding behind instruments, sterile gloves, and egos.

“You okay?” His eyes scanned me like I was a patient on a table.

“No,” I replied honestly. “But I will be.”

He nodded. And for a second, neither of us said anything.

“I saw you.” He lowered his gaze, his shouldersrelaxing. “On the screen. You were calm. Controlled. You were trying to save him, even when he had a gun to your head.”

“It’s what we do, right?”

His voice was rough when he raised his eyes to look into mine. “Not everyone could’ve or would’ve done what you did. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you froze.”

“Anyway,” I shrugged and stood still, “that’s all. I just wanted to say thank you.”

CHAPTER 12

Elias

The echo of the gunshot still pounded inside my skull—a brutal, stinging reminder of how narrowly she had escaped death.

My heart was thundering now, not from lingering fear, but from adrenaline-fueled desire, as I watched Reggie before me.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath deep and desperate; the thin fabric of her scrubs barely contained the strain of her hardened nipples, which pressed insistently against the material. Her eyes, wild with raw energy, burned with the intensity of a storm, and a light sheen of sweat glistened along her throat.

"Anyway… that's all. I just wanted to say thank you," she murmured, her gratitude echoing in the sterile room.

Anger and longing mingled within me—an uncontrollable fury at the world for not having made hermine and an even stronger, ravenous need that made me want her to be mine.

I rose in a rush, and with a forceful shove, I propelled her against the cold, unyielding wall of the cramped on-call room. The antiseptic tang mingled with the heady scent of desperation, filling my lungs like oxygen.

My body pressed against hers, and I could feel every shudder and every hesitant intake of breath as her eyes locked onto mine, filled with a familiar, pleading hunger.

"Now, thank me properly," I growled, my voice low, rough, and edged with need.

Already, my desire pulsed through me—my erection, straining and insistent beneath my scrubs. I knew she could feel it pressing against her thigh. Her lips parted slightly, her expression an unspoken invitation.

I didn't wait.

I crashed my mouth onto hers, kissing her with a ferocity born of starvation, our tongues clashing in a raw, messy rhythm. We were hungry. Needy. Frantic.

Her hands roamed over me without restraint—gripping at the fabric of my scrubs, clawing at my back, sliding down to hold my ass, drawing me closer to her.

I pulled off her scrub top and bra, exposing her sensitive breasts to the cool air of the room. A sharp gasp escaped her as I took one nipple into my mouth, my teeth sinking in.

She whimpered delicately in what I knew was both surrender and pleasure.

---