Laney's eyes widen with delight. "Oh my Lanta. You're blushing. You actually think he's hot."
"I think he's brilliant," I correct quickly. "And irritating. And completely impossible."
"And hot," she adds, grinning like she's just won the lottery. "The plot thickens."
"There is no plot," I insist, stuffing a forkful of salad into my mouth to stop myself from saying more.
"Mmm-hmm." She looks unconvinced. "Just remember, sunshine, sometimes the best cure for tension with a hot doctor isn't avoiding him, it's working it out horizontally."
I throw my napkin at her head. "You're terrible."
"I'm practical," she counters, catching the napkin. "And you love me for it."
She's right about that, at least. As we finish our meal, the conversation shifts to hospital gossip and Laney's latest dating disaster—a radiologist who turned out to have a weird thing for feet. I laugh in all the right places, but part of my mind keeps drifting back to the moment in the hallway with Sebastian, to the way his eyes had darkened when I stood my ground, to the brief flicker of something beyond irritation I'd caught in his expression.
By the time we say goodbye outside the restaurant, I've almost convinced myself that tomorrow will be better. That Sebastian Walker's approval isn't necessary for me to succeed. That I can ignore whatever complicated feelings his presence stirs in me.
Almost.
Chapter 5
Mia
Ijolt awake with a gasp, my body on fire. The sheets are twisted around my legs like desperate hands, damp with sweat and something else. For a moment, I'm disoriented, the dream still vivid behind my eyelids—Sebastian's mouth on my neck, his hands gripping my hips, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress. My heart hammers against my ribs like it's trying to escape, and there's an insistent throbbing between my legs that makes me press my thighs together.
"Fuck," I whisper to the empty room, my voice hoarse like I've been screaming. Maybe I have. The clock on my nightstand tells me it’s still thirteen minutes before my alarm goes off. I flop back against the pillows and squeeze my eyes shut, but that only makes the images sharper.
Sebastian's dark eyes, burning as they travel down my naked body. Those large hands sliding up my thighs as he whispers filthy promises against my skin.
"No, no, no," I groan, throwing an arm over my face. This cannot be happening. I'm not some hormone-crazed teenager fantasizing about her teacher. I'm a damn doctor, a professional,and Sebastian Walker is my boss. My impossibly gorgeous, brilliantly infuriating boss who looks at me like I'm a particularly annoying puzzle he can't solve.
I kick off the sheets and sit up, running my hands through my tangled curls. The movement sends a pulse of awareness through my breasts, my nipples still tight and sensitive from the phantom touch of dream-Sebastian's mouth. Between my legs, I'm wet and aching, my body clearly not getting the memo that the man it's craving was completely imaginary.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I pad toward the bathroom. The tiles are cold beneath my feet, grounding me slightly as I turn on the shower and wait for the water to heat. Steam begins to fill the small space, fogging the mirror until my reflection is nothing but a blurry suggestion of red hair and pale skin.
I step under the spray and close my eyes, letting the water cascade over my face, down my neck, between my breasts. It feels good, too good. Each droplet is like a tiny caress, and my skin is still hypersensitive from the dream. I reach for the soap, determined to wash away this ridiculous arousal, but as I slide the bar across my collarbone, down over my breast, my nipple tightens beneath its path.
"This is pathetic," I mutter, but I can't seem to stop my hand from continuing its journey downward, over the slight curve of my stomach and farther between my thighs.
I should stop. I really should. But my fingers have a mind of their own, slipping through my wetness to find my clit that's been throbbing since I woke up. I gasp as I make contact, my knees nearly buckling at the jolt of pleasure that shoots through me.
The warm water pounds against my back as I brace my other hand against the tile wall and rest my forehead against my forearm. Sebastian's face forms behind my closed lids, that sternmouth curved into a hint of a smile, those dark eyes watching me come undone.
"Fuck it," I breathe, giving in. My fingers circle slowly at first, then faster as my breathing quickens. In my mind, it's Sebastian's hand between my legs, his long fingers teasing, exploring, and claiming. I imagine the weight of his body pressing me against the shower wall, his mouth hot on my neck, his voice in my ear.
I slide two fingers inside myself, curling them just right as my thumb still works in tight circles. The pressure builds low in my belly, a coiling tension that winds tighter with each stroke. Water runs down my face, between my parted lips as I pant, racing toward the edge.
I gasp as the first wave hits, my body clenching around my fingers. "Sebastian." His name echoes off the shower walls as I come. My hips jerk against my hand as waves of pleasure pulse through me until my legs tremble and I have to press my whole body against the tile to stay upright.
Reality rushes back as the last aftershocks fade. The water is starting to cool, and I'm standing in my shower, calling out my boss's name while I get myself off. Fantastic. Really professional, Mia.
I quickly finish washing, scrubbing my skin like I can erase the memory of what just happened, of the fantasy that felt far too real. As I step out and wrap a towel around myself, my reflection in the now-cleared mirror shows flushed cheeks and bright eyes that betray everything I'm trying to deny.
I blow-dry my hair with unnecessary force, as if the heat and noise can chase away the lingering images of Sebastian's hands, his mouth, his eyes. By the time I'm dressed in my scrubs I've almost convinced myself that I can face him without blushing like a teenager.
And when I grab my keys and messenger bag, I make myself a promise: today, I will be nothing but the consummate professional. I will wow Sebastian Walker with my medical brilliance, not my sexual fantasies. I will solve cases, save lives, and definitely, absolutely not think about what he might look like naked.
"You've got this, Mia," I say to the empty apartment as I head out the door.
