“What are you doing?” Clarissa murmured. She’d been dozing for about twenty minutes.
“Checking you for a fever,” Roan said. He grabbed a thermometer from the nearby end table housing both their respective pagers and phones.
“Can’t have a fever. Heme-onc would kick me out. The chief would be mad to find coverage.” Clarissa shook her head.
She was right. The patients she worked with were little kids with no immune systems.
“Might be better if you got one. You could skip lecture.” Roan half-hoped she was sick. Logically, he understood that most residency programs operated on a call schedule, not a shift schedule. He’d done plenty of punishing on-calls in his own training, so why the hell was he this annoyed on her behalf?
He allowed himself to imagine she was sick. If she were, he’d be willing to take a ‘sick day’ and join her on his couch by the fireplace. They’d huddle together under the pink and turquoise pillows and quilts while he ladled out Sopa de Pollo Cubano.
“Can’t be sick. Temp scan negative last night. Gotta go to a lecture on M-CHAT screenings.” Clarissa named a pediatric test that was completely meaningless to him.
“Only if you aren’t febrile. Be a good girl and open your mouth.” He used a little more force with his words.
Her sleepy brown eyes opened, sharpening with interest. “Bad daddy.”
And the minx clamped her lips shut.
Amazing, even this tired, she was always ready to play.
“Lissa, open wide.” He caressed the hair spilling out from under her pink-flowered scrub cap.
She shook her head and wiggled her hips on his lap. Despite the layers of his dress pants and her scrubs, his body was getting ready for an act they would NOT be doing in his office.
“I ought to spank you.” He tried to maneuver the thermometer toward her mouth as she dodged him.
She held the advantage by her position on top of him, and gained his acquiesce by kissing him.
Yep, flawless victory for Clarissa. Their kiss convinced him she didn’t have a fever, unless she planned on setting him on fire. She tasted like sleep, syrup, and all his.
Somehow, his shirt was untucked and her scrub top ended up on the floor. The smooth skin he’d revealed led to him peppering the upper slopes of her breasts and the side of her neck with kisses. He limited his mouth to skimming the center of her practical white sports bra. Any more would have made evidence of his attentions impossible to hide.
Not that she was helping him control himself. She had her head flung back, grinding her hips into his the way she did when she rode her Daddy Roan hard.
“Such a bad daddy. Make me feel good?” she asked in the breathy almost-little girl voice.
“Can’t be too good. Maybe a little.” He opted to slide his hand inside her scrub pants, where she was getting warmer and wetter. His fingers would have to do for now since his mouth was currently occupied, and using his cock in his office would start him on a path probably best not taken.
Though the way she was moaning made it more and more appealing.
His index finger was on its way to give her the relief she needed when her pager went off.
Hers used a much peppier beep than his, and no one in their right mind would page the anesthesia chief while he wasn’t technically working yet.
“Seriously?” she rolled off him and onto the floor, on the hunt for her discarded shirt.
“You know they can’t see you.” Roan teased her, mentally cursing whatever asshole needed an updated Tylenol order this minute.
“I can see me. What if I have to run to a code? Again.” Clarissa reminded him of their aborted February makeout session in the L and D call room. Things had gone less than well, though the state of their clothing had been the least of their worries.
He glanced at the offending pager. “It’s not a hospital number. Though 311 is a good call.”
“It’s not 311. It’d be 3111. Willow. W turned sideways.” She cutely wrinkled her nose, fit her arms back into her sleeves. “What is 311?”
“A band.” He named the band that existed before her time and smirked since her scrub top was stuck on her chest. “Also the police code for indecent exposure.”
“Thanks a lot. It’s Willow’s signal that she wants to talk to me but not a total emergency. She’d be on her way to start today’s call, so now is the time.” Clarissa forced down the shirt and searched for her cell phone.
