Page 12 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

The kiss started slow—like we both needed to be sure the world wouldn’t spin out of control.

His lips were warm, soft but firm, patient. No rush, no performance. Just...real.

He kissed me like someone who had waited a long time to feel anything again.

And I kissed him like someone who never thought anyone would want to.

There was longing in it. A shared ache. A tremble of something too fragile to name and too powerful to ignore.

His hand slipped to the side of my neck, thumb brushing just under my jaw. I pressed closer, heartbeat thudding so loud I was sure he could feel it.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against my lips, voice hoarse with something that felt like truth:

“This was never just rivalry, was it?”

I shook my head, unable to speak.

He kissed me again—deeper this time, like a promise. Like a shift in gravity.

The fireplace crackled.

The rain fell soft against the window.

And for once, my thoughts finally quieted.

…

Sunlight warmed my cheek.

I blinked against it, stretching in the oversized bed, limbs tangled in the cozy chaos of soft blankets and fuzzy socks. The pillow beside me was still dented, the scent of cedar and rain clinging to the linen like a memory.

But Damien was gone.

No sound.

Just the imprint of where he’d been—and the cold, empty space where he wasn’t.

Chapter four

Damien

The soft gray light of early morning crept through the curtains like it was afraid to intrude.

I was already awake.

Had been for hours.

I lay there, on my side, unmoving, watching the rise and fall of Ruby’s breath beside me. Her hair was a tangled mess across the pillow, a halo of wild curls that looked more like poetry than chaos now. One arm was stretched across the bed, hand resting palm up where mine had been. Almost like she’d reached for it in her sleep.

Something in my chest pulled tight.

I’d lived my life surrounded by precision. In the hospital, every cut, every stitch, every second had a purpose. No mess. No risk. No room for anything that couldn’t be controlled.

But last night had been none of those things.

It had been warmth. Laughter. A slow unraveling of walls I didn’t even know I’d rebuilt since leaving the operating room behind.

And then… that kiss.

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