“Next time, watch where you’re going,” she mutters, turning away from me.

I lunge forward, wrapping my hand around her arm and pulling her back towards me. Her body slams into mine, her hands pressing against my chest to hold herself steady. My nose is instantly assaulted with the smell of her shampoo and the spicy perfume that is distinctly Phina. I couldn’t stop my dick from hardening if my life depended on it. I’m still pissed she went to Dax about the note instead of me, and I don’t know whether to argue with her or shove her into the nearest empty room and beg her to let me fuck her. I’m pissed that I want this woman so much when she clearly wants nothing to do with me. The disgust is evident on her face and I briefly wonder if she looked at Dax the same way when she went to see him. I’m sure she didn’t. She probably flirted with him and turned on the charm, giving him one of those rare smiles that I would kill to have aimed at me. My anger multiplies when I think about her laughing at something he said or being as close to him as she is to me right now. I should be asking her about the damn note she received, but all I want to do is make her pay for the jealousy roaring through me.

“Get your hands off me,” she mutters through clenched teeth.

I didn’t even realize I’d wrapped my arm around her and pulled her closer to me. I clench my fist into her scrub top at her lower back and hold onto her tighter.

“What’s wrong, Fireball? I’m sure you let Dax put his hands on you when you went to see him today. I’m not good enough to get the same benefits?” I ask softly, trying to keep my anger in check.

Her eyes widen when I mention her little visit with Dax. I’m guessing she didn’t want me to know she saw him today. I wonder why that is? Because she’s guilty of doing exactly what I suggested and letting him touch her?

“What I do or who I see is none of your fucking business,” she growls, trying to pull out of my arms.

Bringing my free hand up, I rest my palm on her collarbone before sliding it up and around the side of her neck, pulling her face close to mine. I run my lips along her cheek until I get to her ear, holding my mouth against her earlobe while I speak softly.

“It’s my fucking business when I’ve had my face buried between your thighs and can still taste you on my tongue.”

I feel her shiver in my arms and I smile against her ear, happy about the fact that at least I have some affect on her.

“Next time you have a problem, you come to ME,” I continue.

She instantly starts struggling again and I loosen my hold, letting her push back from me so I can see her face.

“The only problem I have right now is you,” she complains angrily.

I smile down at her. “That makes two of us, Fireball.”

Forgetting about how pissed I am at my reaction to her and the fact that we’re in the hallway of a crowded hospital, I quickly dip my head and crush my lips to hers.

My mouth opens on a gasp as soon as DJ’s lips press against mine and he takes full advantage, his tongue connecting with mine and sliding slowly against it. I hear a foreign sound in the back of my mind and realize it’s me, moaning into this kiss. He uses his hand against the side of my neck to hold me in place, his lips pressing firmer and tongue sliding deeper as he prolongs the kiss. My hands clutch to his navy blue uniform shirt instead of pushing him away. Why the fuck am I not pushing him away? We haven’t kissed since the night at the bar over four months ago when I told him about my fantasy. He wanted to seal the deal and the tequila I’d consumed deluded me into believing that was a stellar idea. The kiss that night is fuzzy in my brain; I recall the taste of whiskey on his tongue and not much else. Now I remember why I wouldn’t let him kiss me that night in my bedroom. Even though I was drunk the last time we’d kissed, a part of me realized what would happen if I allowed it to happen again – I would lose all ability to think rationally.

It was hard enough to keep up the bitch façade when he slammed into me and I got my first good look at him in days. His muscles filled out his short-sleeved button-down shirt better than any man I’d ever seen, his biceps flexing as he stared me down with those crystal clear blue eyes. With my height, most men aren’t that much taller than me, but in my tennis shoes, DJ towers over me and makes me feel small and delicate. The way his arm tightens around me, keeping me firmly restrained against his chest, proves that at least he doesn’t think I’m a delicate fucking flower.

Without thinking, I suck his tongue into my mouth and feel the vibrations of his own moan against my lips. My sex pulses and I feel myself getting wet, remembering what it was like to feel these same soft lips and talented tongue sliding through my folds and licking my clit.

The busy sounds of the hospital fade into the distance as DJ’s arm pulls me up and against him so tightly that my feet almost leave the ground. The position puts me on my tiptoes and I immediately feel his erection pressing into me. The rhythm of his tongue repeatedly rubbing against my own lulls me into a haze of desire so strong that I completely forget about the patient whose blood I was supposed to draw and the hospital staff running back and forth about fifty yards away at the intersection of the hallway we’re standing in. Any one of them could look this way and see what I’m doing and I can’t bring myself to care. I want him to push me against the wall behind me so hard that it bruises my back. I want him to rip my scrubs from my body so roughly that they shred into a hundred pieces. I want to pull his hard cock out of his pants and run my hands up and down his length until he has no choice but to bury himself inside me, pounding between my thighs until I ache from the force of his thrusts. For once in my life, I think I could breathe easily with the pain he could give me instead of the kind I give myself.