Page 42 of Dr. Roz Harrington
But something inside her wouldn’t let her.
With a quiet curse under her breath, Roz grabbed her coat and left.
Roz stepped out onto the wide balcony of the event venue. The cool night air kissed her skin, sharp against the hum of emotions swirling in her chest. The chatter and music inside faded to a dull hum behind her as she spotted Sam near the railing, hands tucked in her pockets, shoulders stiff.
Roz slowed, her steps soft as she approached. Sam turned her head slightly at the sound of footsteps, her sharp blue gaze finding Roz in an instant. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was thick, tense, charged, but not unkind.
“You’re still here,” Roz said, her voice low.
Sam smirked faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Couldn’t tear myself away from all the excitement.” Her tone was dry, but there was a flicker of warmth beneath it.
Roz walked up beside her, leaning on the railing, her shoulder close enough to Sam’s to feel the quiet heat radiating off her body. They stared out into the city lights together for a long beat, the quiet stretching between them.
“I didn’t mean to push you earlier,” Sam said finally, her voice softer now, rough around the edges. “But I meant what I said.”
Roz glanced at her, brow arching. “You’re always so good at saying exactly what you think.”
“And you’re good at pretending nothing touches you,” Sam shot back, though her voice lacked its earlier bite. She turned, folding her arms across her chest as she studied Roz carefully. “But that’s not true, is it?”
Roz stiffened slightly, her fingers curling over the cold metal railing. “You don’t know me, Sam,” she said quietly, the words almost a whisper.
“I’m trying to,” Sam said. “And whether you like it or not, I see you.”
Roz felt her chest tighten. The way Sam said it—so sure, so steady—unsettled her more than she cared to admit. She closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly. “You think you want to see me, but you don’t. You won’t like what’s there.”
“Try me,” Sam replied softly.
Roz looked at her then, really looked at her. The stubborn determination in Sam’s gaze made Roz feel stripped bare—her sharp wit, her walls, none of it worked against Sam. And for the first time in years, Roz didn’t want to run.
“I’m not used to this,” Roz admitted finally, her voice faltering. “People…seeing me. And then staying.”
Sam’s expression softened, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she stepped closer. “I don’t scare that easily, Roz.”
Roz held Sam’s gaze, searching her face as if looking for any hint of doubt. But there was none. Sam stood firm, solid and unshakable, as always, and Roz felt something inside her break loose. The space between them crackled, a pull neither of them could deny.
Roz took a step forward, closing the small distance between them. Her fingers ghosted over Sam’s arm, tracing the line of her sleeve before she brought her hand up to cup Sam’s jaw. Sam’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly as Roz leaned in, her voice dropping to a murmur.
“I’m warning you, Sam,” Roz whispered, her lips brushing against Sam’s. “I don’t play fair.”
Sam’s lips parted, her voice a husky whisper. “I never asked you to.”
Roz didn’t hesitate. She tilted Sam’s chin just slightly, her thumb brushing over the curve of her jaw before she captured Sam’s lips in a kiss. It was slow at first, testing, searching, but the restraint didn’t last.
Sam melted into her, responding with the same quiet desperation Roz felt in her chest. Roz’s hands moved to cradle Sam’s face, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss until it felt like they were both unraveling.
Sam’s arms wound around Roz’s waist, tugging her flush against her body. Roz felt herself lose control, her carefully built composure shattering as the kiss grew hotter, more demanding. Sam tasted like everything Roz shouldn’t want but couldn’t stay away from, steadiness, strength, a promise of something Roz didn’t think she deserved.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, Roz rested her forehead against Sam’s. Her fingers lingered on Sam’s jaw, her voice soft and unsteady.
“You’re infuriating,” Roz murmured, her lips curving into a small, rare smile.
Sam let out a shaky breath, her grip on Roz’s waist tightening. “So are you.”
Roz didn’t reply. Instead, she brushed a kiss over Sam’s temple, her walls momentarily forgotten in the quiet stillness of the balcony. Sam stayed close, her thumb tracing absent circles against Roz’s back.
For once, Roz didn’t feel like running. And that terrified her more than anything.
“Stay,” Roz whispered, barely audible, as though saying it too loudly might break the fragile moment.
