Page 16 of Dr. Roz Harrington
Roz:“About how you’re always in control. Wondering what it’d be like to see you give that up.”
Sam swore under her breath, her chest tightening as she read the words. She typed back quickly, her pulse pounding.
Sam:“Careful, Roz. You’re playing with fire.”
Roz:“Good thing I’m not afraid of getting burned.”
Sam swallowed hard, her fingers hovering over the keys. She knew she should stop, should draw a line, but instead, she sent back:
Sam:“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
Roz’s reply was slower this time, but when it came, it sent a shiver down Sam’s spine.
Roz:“I think I do.”
When Sam visited the hospital later that week, the tension between them was nearly unbearable. She told herself the visit was purely professional, just checking on Ben’s progress, but the second Roz stepped into the room, Sam’s resolve wavered.
Roz’s presence was as magnetic as ever, her green eyes sharp and her movements deliberate. She brushed past Sam, her hand barely grazing Sam’s arm, but the contact sent a jolt through her. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them.
“Captain Quinn,” Roz said, her tone perfectly professional, but her gaze lingered a second too long. “Here for Ben?”
“Yeah,” Sam replied, her voice steady despite the heat rising in her chest. “Just checking in.”
Roz nodded, her expression unreadable, but as she turned to leave, Sam caught the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.
That smirk stayed with Sam long after Roz had gone, and she hated how much she wanted to chase after her, to push past the lines they’d both been toeing so carefully.
As the week unfolded, their texts grew even bolder.Roz:“Long day?”
Sam:“You have no idea.”
Roz:“Careful. You’re starting to sound like me.”
Sam:“I could say the same about you.”
Roz:“Maybe we’re rubbing off on each other.”
Sam’s breath hitched at the words, her fingers flying across the screen.
Sam:“Is that what you want?”
Roz’s reply was slower, more deliberate.
Roz:“What do you think?”
Sam stared at the screen, her pulse racing. She knew she was walking a tightrope, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
Sam:“I think you like pushing buttons.”
Roz:“Only the right ones.”
Sam exhaled sharply, the tension building with every word.
Sam:“What if I told you you’re close to crossing a line?”
Roz:“Then I’d ask if you’re ready to let me.”
Late at night, Sam found herself at the hospital again, her mind swirling with excuses—Ben’s case, a report that needed clarification, anything to justify her presence—but when she reached Roz’s office door, her heart pounded for reasons that had nothing to do with work.
