Page 33 of Doctor Neighbor

I reach out, placing my hand on his arm without thinking. "That must have been incredibly difficult."

Buster nods, his gaze distant. "The thing is, he's not out of the woods yet—the patient. Normally, once the surgery's done, my part is over. The post-op team takes over. But I can't stop thinking about this one. About his family."

I squeeze his arm gently. "It's okay to care, you know. It's what makes you human."

He looks at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just… Death fucking sucks, you know?”

We sit silently for a moment, the weight of his words hanging between us. I'm struck by this softer side of Buster, which is so different from the goofy, silly guy I’ve come to know him as.

"Thank you," I say softly. "For sharing that with me."

He nods, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, I feel a deeper connection than I expected, an understanding beyond our complicated history.

As we sit on the balcony, the night air cool against my skin, I'm struck by how easy it is to talk to Buster. The wine has loosened us both, and I genuinely enjoy his company.

Suddenly, Buster leans in. His lips meet mine, soft and warm. For a moment, I'm too surprised to react. Then, just as quickly as it begins, he pulls away.

"I'm so sorry," he stammers, his eyes wide. "I didn't plan that. I swear I didn't come over or help you out, hoping for something to happen. I don't know what came over me. I'm really sorry, Cole."

He's rambling now, clearly flustered. It's endearing to see this usually confident man so off-balance. And if I'm honest with myself, I'm not upset at all.

Without thinking, I lean in and kiss him back. It's gentle at first, then deepens as he responds. When we finally break apart, we're both a little breathless.

"You don't need to apologize," I say softly, my hand resting on his chest. "I'm not upset."

Buster looks at me, relief and something else, I’m not entirely certain what, in his eyes. "You're not?"

I shake my head, smiling. "No, I'm not. In fact..." I trail off, pulling him closer for another kiss.

This time, there's no hesitation. His hand cups my face, and I melt into him. It feels right, somehow. It’s like we're picking up where we left off years ago but with a new understanding of each other.

When we finally pull apart, I'm breathless and a little dizzy. Buster's looking at me with an intensity that makes my heart race.

"Cole," he murmurs, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. "What are we doing?"

I laugh softly. "I have no idea. But I like it."

The night air is electric around us, charged with a tension that's been building since our paths crossed again.

Buster's eyes are dark pools, reflecting the city lights below as he stands before me on the balcony—my heart hammers in my chest, a rhythm that matches the urgency of his gaze.

"Buster," I whisper, my voice low against the distant hum of the city. It's not a question or an invitation—it's a surrender to the inevitable pull between us.

In an instant, his hands are in my hair, his lips claiming mine with a hunger that sends a shiver down my spine. The kiss is deep and emotional, a mingling of breath and desire that leaves me dizzy. My fingers grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as if I could fuse our bodies together.

We embrace, stumbling blindly until my back meets the cool metal of the balcony railing. Buster's body presses against mine, the firm contours of his muscles an intoxicating contrast to the softness of my own. I can feel the heat of his skin through the thin material of our clothes, a brand that sears my flesh.

His hands roam my body, exploring with an urgency that ignites a fire within me. I arch into his touch, craving more, needing the connection as much as I need air to breathe. The fabric of my dress bunches under his fingers, hiking up to expose the lace edge of my panties.

With a growl that vibrates through me, Buster breaks the kiss just long enough to yank the dress over my head, leaving me bare to the night and his hungry gaze. His eyes rake over me, their raw appreciation making me feel beautiful and powerful.

"You're exquisite," he murmurs, his voice rough with need.

Before I can respond, his mouth is on mine again, devouring me with a passion that's both wild and sweet. His hands cup my breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples into hard peaks that ache for his touch. I moan into the kiss, my hips rocking against him, seeking friction and release.

In one swift motion, Buster lifts me onto the railing, the cold metal a shock against my heated skin. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, the hard length of him pressing against the place where I need him most.

With deft fingers, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my panties and tugs them down. I kick them off, completely exposing myself to the night air and his voracious gaze. His hands slide down my thighs, gripping them tightly as he positions himself at my entrance.

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