Page 42 of Crossing the Line
From what felt like a distance, she felt Harper squeeze her nipple and she squealed before biting her lower lip hard. Harper moved her hand from her breast to her clit, and Carmen felt her body jump from excitement. Harper picked up the pace with both the toy and her thumb, and Carmen felt herself teetering on the edge of ecstasy.
“Let yourself go,” Harper said in her whispery voice, and Carmen felt herself squeeze around the toy as her entire body went rigid from her orgasm then went slack.
“Now I see why you like it so much,” Harper said with a smile as she removed the toy. “I could watch you all day.”
“Come here,” Carmen said, and she wrapped her arms around Harper as they snuggled close. “That was perfect.Youwere perfect.”
“So were you,” Harper said, her voice already thick with tiredness.
They snuggled for what felt like hours, and Carmen's breathing had finally steadied, but her heart still hammered against her ribs as Harper traced lazy patterns across her bare shoulder. The fog outside had thickened, wrapping her townhouse in silence that made the rest of Phoenix Ridge feel like another world entirely.
This was the moment Carmen usually dreaded—the aftermath when bodies cooled and reality returned with all its sharp edges. The moment when she'd have to navigate awkward conversation or polite departure, when the euphoria of physical connection gave way to the practical complications of what came next.
But Harper wasn't checking her phone or making excuses to leave. She was drawing invisible designs on Carmen's skin with fingertips that felt reverent rather than possessive, her breathing slow and content against Carmen's neck.
Carmen turned her head to study Harper's profile in the dim light filtering through her bedroom windows. Her lips were swollen from kissing, her hair a tangled mess that Carmen's hands had created, and her expression held something Carmen hadn't expected: peace. Not the satisfied smugness of conquest, but genuine contentment.
"You're thinking too loud again," Harper murmured without opening her eyes.
Carmen felt her lips curve into a smile. "Occupational hazard."
"What's the prognosis this time?"
Carmen hesitated, then decided honesty had brought them this far. "I'm trying to figure out what happens now."
Harper's hand stilled on Carmen's shoulder, and for a moment Carmen wondered if she'd broken whatever spell had been holding them in this bubble of intimacy. But then Harpershifted, propping herself up on one elbow to meet Carmen's gaze directly.
"What do you want to happen?" Harper asked.
The question was simple, but it carried weight that made Carmen's throat tighten. When was the last time someone had asked what she wanted instead of assuming they already knew? When had anyone cared about her desires separate from professional obligation or social expectation?
"I want to wake up tomorrow without regretting tonight," Carmen said slowly. "I want to go to work and be able to look at you without my face giving everything away. I want to figure out how to have this without losing everything else."
Harper nodded, her expression serious. "Those are very reasonable wants."
"Are they achievable?"
"Depends how good we are at compartmentalizing." Harper's thumb brushed across Carmen's collarbone. "At the hospital, we're Dr. Méndez and Dr. Langston. You're my attending, I'm your intern. We maintain professional boundaries and appropriate distance, nothing that would raise eyebrows or create gossip."
Carmen felt some of the tension in her chest ease. Harper understood the stakes without Carmen having to explain them. "And outside the hospital?"
"Outside the hospital, we figure out what this is." Harper's voice was soft but certain. "We see each other. We build something real. We take our time and don't rush into anything that might complicate the professional situation."
"Your mother?—"
"Will have to understand that I'm an adult making my own choices," Harper said firmly. "But not yet. Not until we know what we're building is solid enough to withstand that conversation."
Carmen studied Harper's face, looking for signs of doubt or resentment about the secrecy. Instead, she found determination and something that looked like protective instinct. Harper was actively choosing to shield it while they figured out what it could become, not hiding it like a dirty secret.
"How long do you think we can manage that?" Carmen asked.
Harper was quiet for a moment, her fingers resuming their gentle movement across Carmen's skin. "As long as we need to. I've waited my whole life to feel this way about someone. I'm not going to risk destroying it by being impatient."
The words settled into Carmen's chest like warmth, chasing away the last of her post-intimacy anxiety. Harper wasn't pushing for promises or timelines or declarations of love. She was offering partnership in navigating the complex reality they'd chosen together.
"There will be rules," Carmen said, her surgeon's mind already working through potential complications. "No personal communication during work hours unless it's related to cases. No lingering looks in public spaces. No?—"
Harper silenced her with a kiss that tasted like laughter. "Carmen, I'm not going to sabotage your career by making eyes at you during surgical rounds."
