Page 65 of Doctor's Bossy Match
“Wow,” I say, glancing up.My heart is beating so loudly in my ears, I’m sure he can hear it too.“Do you always go for the dramatic hand-touch in cramped closets, or is today special because I’m in charge?”
He smirks.“I was here first.You just couldn’t resist following me in.”
Before I can reply, the door swings halfway shut behind us and clicks.
I spin around.“Did you just—”
He tries the handle.“Nope.Not me.It's jammed.”
Great.
The closet is small.Ridiculously small, with wall-to-wall shelves.It’s barely enough room to turn without brushing shoulders.My mind immediately jumps to what if someone finds us in here.And how bad it will look.
I don’t move, mostly to keep from pressing fully into him.“This feels like the setup to either aDr.Whispererarticle… or a lawsuit.”
Brant leans forward against me, and I swallow, feeling his body dangerously close to mine.But I’m not afraid.Not of him.If anything, I want to lean into it.“Relax.Maintenance is probably just down the hall.We’ll be out in no time.”
“Mmm.Trapped in a dark closet with your resident,” I say.“Scandalous headline.”
He raises an eyebrow, and even in the minimal light, I can see the hint of a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.“We’re not doing anything wrong.”
“I know,” I murmur.And that’s what makes this worse.
My gaze drifts, catching on a little scar on his eyebrow I’ve never noticed before.I wonder how he got it.I want to reach out and trace it with my finger.
The air shifts and the space feels smaller.His breath brushes mine as I lift my chin slightly.My fingers are still half resting on the box of syringes, and his hand is still on mine.
Neither of us moves.
Not away, at least.
His eyes fall to my mouth, slowly, like he’s giving me every chance to pull back.As his lips part, I realize I’m holding my breath.My heart pounds, and every muscle in my body is tight, stuck between the electricity of him and the voice in the back of my head that’s saying this is a terrible idea.
I don’t move.
Neither does he.
My pulse skyrockets.
Then—
The door bursts open.I jump, my heart included, at the unexpected sound.
“Closet door jammed again,” the janitor mutters, totally unbothered, as he props it open and shuffles away.
I step out first, the cool air hitting my flushed skin.No one notices.Everyone just walks by, lost in their own world, minding their business.The stress eases away, but I still worry they can see through me.
Brant slips out behind me, falling into step beside me.He leans in to whisper near my ear.“I shouldn’t have let that moment get so close.”
Is he apologizing, or regretting it?Maybe he’s just acknowledging what we both felt.I want to ask, but the words are stuck in my throat.So I just nod, trying to process what he means and whether he’s pushing me away or admitting he felt it too.
We walk in silence, the hallway empty now, only our footsteps filling the space.Just before we reach his office, I glance sideways.
“If my father wasn’t the hospital director,” I ask quietly, “what would you do right now?”
I don’t expect him to answer.
Brant pauses, hand hovering over the doorknob.His jaw works like he’s weighing every possible answer.
