Page 30 of Chase

“Me neither. I mean, I’d have thought an organ transportation service would be more professional. Was any paperwork signed this time?” Bryan shakes his head. “Do we know where they were taking the organ?”

“No, Dr. Rivera says she handles all the paperwork before removing the organ. We don’t need to concern ourselves with that.”

“Does that not strike you as…” I trail off when I hear the click of high heels on the tiles. The doctor and Russell appear; they completely ignore us and walk to the elevator. I watch as he presses the button and when the doors open, she embraces him warmly and kisses his cheek. An unwanted emotion stabs my chest, one I don’t want to admit I feel when it comes to him. One I have no right to be feeling. Jealousy.

I wait until Russell steps into the elevator. Dr. Rivera watches the doors close, her eyes fixed on him. Once he has disappeared, she turns and stalks back to her office again without so much as a glance.

“That organ transporter,” I say to Bryan, returning to the previous conversation. “Something doesn’t sit right with it.”

“Sam,” he says kindly. “Take my advice. Keep your nose out of this. Do your job and learn, but don’t start questioning processes within this department. The doctor isn’t someone you want to make an enemy of. She’s one of those people where her bite is actually worse than her bark. Don’t get bitten.”

“That’s how bad behavior continues,” I mutter.

“What?” he snaps, pouting as if offended. “What do you mean bad behavior?”

“People get away with shit because others turn a blind eye. I’m telling you, Bryan, there’s something fishy going on. And I want to know what.”

“We’re small prawns. Don’t get involved.”

“It’s pawns, Bryan,” I say, then turn and walk away to finish my shift.

***

That evening, Connor and I are sprawled on the huge velvet corner sofa in his apartment. We’ve just eaten a banquet of Chinese takeout, and my stomach feels fit to burst. He sits pushed back into the corner as I lie with my head on his lap. Deft fingers play with my hair as we watch a predictable rom-com on his huge television.

“I like this,” I whisper then close my eyes, enjoying the gentle strokes on my skin.

“The situation, or us in general?” His fingers move lower to my breast, and he plays with my nipple through the fabric of my tank top. It hardens under his touch.

“All of it.” I push myself up and move to straddle him, placing my hands on either side of his head. “I love everything about us.”

“Everything?” He raises an eyebrow. “Elaborate, please. I could do with having my ego massaged.”

“I’ll do more than massage your ego.” I wriggle off the sofa and drop to my knees between his legs. My hands move to the waistband of the gray jogging bottoms he’s wearing, and I tug impatiently. He lifts his hips to allow the material to slip over his ass, and his cock springs free. “Commando, I like it.”

“Noted. I will throw all my boxers away and walk around commando from now on. Your pleasure is my number one priority.” I laugh, and his eyes lock with mine. They glint with the need of a man who knows what’s coming next.

“First of all, I love how we laugh,” I tell him, and he smiles. “Second, I love the way you kiss me every time I arrive here.”

“You like that?”

“Yeah, it feels coupley.” My cheeks heat, embarrassed by the admission.

“Coupley? I’m not sure that’s a word in the English dictionary,” he teases.

“Do not question my language skills. Not after…”

“After what?” he asks, confused.

“Nothing,” I say quickly, not wanting to think or tell him about Russell’s nonsense today. “Third, my favorite thing about us is the way you don’t demand my time. The way you don’t demand sex from me. What we have feels…complicit.”

“Sex should always be consensual, Sam,” he says softly, stroking my cheek. “And both participants need to get what they want from it.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” I add hastily. “I love it when you’re bossy, but I know with you if I say no, you’ll understand. You make me feel safe.”

“You always have a choice with me. And if I ever lay my hands on the bastard who didn’t give you one, I’ll fucking end him.” He holds my focus firm, then raises both eyebrows. “Who is he?” I shake my head, not wanting to discuss this with him. “I want a name.”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past,” I murmur, placing my hands on his knees and dropping my gaze between his feet. The last thing I want to discuss with him is my overly controlling ex who believed my body was his property.

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