Page 59 of Doctor Enemy

Kurt doesn’t release his grip, even as he leads me toward the lounge door. He shoots Nate a truly indecipherable look, and then we both step out of the doctors’ lounge and into the hallway. The familiar white light glares down on us.

“Kurt,” I say, my hand still stinging.

Kurt starts walking faster, pulling me along. Before I know it, he’s wrenching open the door to a nearby storage closet and urging me inside. Confusion takes hold. The door swings shut behind us, plunging the little space into darkness. My foot knocks against a mop pail, sending it against the wall.

“You’re not pissed?” I ask, confused.

“Pissed? Shit, no. That was hot,” Kurt says.

His hands land on my hips, pushing me against the door. Fumbling in the dark, I press my own palms against his ripped chest, splaying my fingers over it.

“Hot? I just slapped her!”

“Do you regret it?”

My lower lip juts out. “No. Yes. I don't know. What she said…”

“You thought that a few months ago,” Kurt points out, lightly.

Guilt floods through me, enough to cool down the embers of arousal that the close quarters had been pulling into existence. I lean forward, pressing my lips gently on his jaw. “I know. And I was wrong.”

His hands tug at the front of my shirt until he’s able to slip his palms under the fabric and splay them over my bare skin. “Then I was right, and it was hot.”

I laugh, leaning forward, pressing my forehead to his shoulder. The lingering scent of his body wash fills me with a familiar sense of ease. It doesn’t matter, in the end, what Olivia thinks of this whole mess.

The only thing that matters is whether or not I’m happy with it.

And I am.

There’s something about Kurt that’s made me remember judging someone from a distance never turns out well. He’s a caring, protective, totally smoking hot guy, and he really does love me. This isn’t anything like my ex from college, and the fact that I’m a lot younger than him doesn’t changeanything. Not really.

So I kiss him again, on the side of the neck, just as soft and sweet. I let him push his hands up higher, cupping my breasts through the silky fabric of my bra, giving them a squeeze.

“You’re incorrigible,” I tell him, with a breathless laugh. The arousal is back, burning low, a warm heat beneath my skin.

“You love it though,” teases Kurt, leaning down to kiss me properly. It’s all tongue. I can taste the sharp tang of peppermint on his tongue when he swipes it over the backs of my teeth. He sucks my lower lip into his mouth, and a low, keening whine spills from me.

Startled at how loud it sounds in the quiet of the closet, I jerk backward and slap a hand over my mouth. Kurt lets out a laugh.

“No way,” I tell him, letting my fingers part so that my voice isn’t quite as muffled. “We can’t do this in here! Someone’s going to hear us!”

“Not if you’re more quiet than that.” Kurt teases, “They didn’t hear us at Lagoona.”

My cheeks turn bright red. I had been so taken with him that I didn’t care if someone caught us in the act. But this is different. After all, no one at Lagoona knew us. Everyone here knows who I am.

“Kurt, if Shannon catches wind that I’m messing around on the job, I’m going to be in huge trouble,” I insist.

Unlike Kurt, I’m still just a resident and not some hot-shot surgeon. That means there are people that I need to report to, and standards in behavior that I need to meet.

Kurt rolls his eyes but with one last grope to my tits, he pulls his hands out from under my shirt. They reach up to cup my cheeks instead, thumbs swiping over the soft skin just beneath my eyes before he leans in and kisses me passionately. My whole body gravitates toward him like a magnet.

“I’ll make it up to you,” I promise him. “Somewhere that’s not here.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Kurt tells me. One more kiss, and then he’s ushering me away from the door so he can slip back into the hallway. I wait for a few moments, adjusting my shirt and hoping that I don’t look like someone that just had a make out session in the storage closet.

After I figure enough time has passed, I step out too. I make a beeline for the bathroom, just to make sure that I don’t need to adjust my hair or clean up any smeared faintly pink-tinted lip gloss. My reflection is a little glaringly rosy-cheeked, but that’s it.

Relieved, I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to compose myself, and go back out to finish rounds.

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