Page 28 of Ten Day Affair
“We slept together once. She’s a surgical resident, not involved with any of this, so she isn't even a factor.”
Dorian arches a brow. “How do you think it would go if she somehow found out?”
“She won’t.”
That’s the plan, anyway.
SEVEN
Sam
I round the corner toward the administrative hallway, my mind busy cataloging the patients I've seen today. I've had three post-ops that are doing well, one with concerning lab values I need to check on before my shift ends.
The rubber of my shoes squeaks against the freshly waxed floor as I mentally review my to-do list.
My steps falter mid-stride.
Through the glass wall of the main boardroom, a familiar profile catches my eye. The world narrows to a single point of focus.
Cole.
Not fantasy-Cole from my late-night thoughts. Real Cole. Right here inmyhospital.
My body freezes while my mind races. He's sitting at the conference table, one hand resting casually on its polished surface, the other gesturing as he speaks.
His suit jacket stretches perfectly across those shoulders I'd run my hands over. His hair catches the light. It's that same hair I'd gripped between my fingers.
I can't breathe. My lungs simply refuse to work.
He looks so utterly in control and comfortable, like he belongs here in my territory. Like he owns the room. Yet he is completely out of place.
A memory flashes. I can feel his weight against me, the rough texture of the lounge chair beneath my back, his mouth hot at my neck.
I knew he'd be back, based on his text, but seeing him still catches me off guard.
I take an unconscious step backward, bumping into a passing nurse.
"Sorry," I mumble, not looking away from the boardroom.
Cole turns slightly, directing his attention to someone I can't see from my vantage point. His profile is devastating. Holy shit, that jaw, those lips forming words I can't hear but can almost feel against my skin.
Move, Sam. Move now before he sees you.
My feet finally respond. I duck around the corner, pressing my back against the wall. My heart hammers so loudly I'm sure everyone can hear it. I keep my clipboard clutched against my chest like armor.
My stomach drops through the floor.
I close my eyes, draw in a shaky breath.
I need a second to pull myself together. To not look like I’m hiding in a hallway, having a minor breakdown over the virtual stranger billionaire I had sex with on my patio.
I need to get away from this conference room before he walks out and sees me.
The setting sunpaints the ocean in orange-goldstreaks, casting long shadows across the sand-packed ground.
My feet hit the familiar route harder than usual. The burn in my lungs feels good. Necessary. Something to keep me focused on the present instead of spiraling into what-ifs or wondering what having him next door tonight will mean.
I haven’t heard from him since I replied to his text.
