secure right here against his chest, with his arms wrapped around me. Then my pulse raced up, and other instincts overpowered me.
“What do you want to do?” he asked in my hair.
“I’m not really in the mood for being out and about. But I don’t feel like going home either.”
He nodded, pulling back, taking my hand and putting it on his chest. “I have a solution. Let’s go to my place.”
“Okay.”
Cole lived in a gorgeous loft in Manhattan. I twirled around, taking it all in. White was the predominant color, with shades of blue and black.
“It’s beautiful. Did you hire a professional designer?”
“I did, actually, but the end result felt like a hotel: elegant, but cold and impersonal. I mentioned it to my family, and at the housewarming party, they all showed up with trinkets and decorative objects that instantly transformed it into a home.”
“I can actually see that happening. It’s so fancy. You have a concierge. And marble floors. And huge windows with so much light. Wow. Nothing like my tiny shoebox.”
“Why don’t you move?”
“I plan to once I finish my residency and earn more. Besides, I don’t have time to look for another place. A fellow resident had just vacated my apartment when I signed the contract at the hospital, and I took it because it was convenient.”
“You’re welcome here anytime you want.”
“Wow. Really?”
“You lit up just now. You should live in a place that makes you happy.” He touched my face, resting his thumb at a corner of my mouth.
“Wow. Every time I think you can’t be even more of a charmer, you prove me wrong.”
His smile changed from playful to seductive, revealing a dimple. “And I’m not done yet.”
I shuddered as he moved his thumb up the bow of my lip slowly. His gaze was locked on my mouth. When he pulled back, guiding me further inside the living room, I immediately missed his presence and his touch—I liked having him close.
“You know, I’d planned to go home, watch a movie, and eat things that are bad for me. But this is so much better.”
Cole laughed. “It’s about to get even better.”
“Oh? What’s the plan?”
“Don’t have one. We’re spontaneous today.”
I sat on the couch, wiggling my toes.
“Well, I’m ready for anything.” I sighed, moving my fingers in random patterns on the soft couch.
“That’s a dangerous statement.”
“Uhh... you’re devious.”
“You haven’t seen devious yet, Laney.” He said the words almost in my ear. My whole body hummed. Cupping my face, he skimmed his lips over mine, licking my lower lip once. I was on fire. When he pulled back, I pouted. “All in due time.”
“When exactly is that?”
“We’ll see.” He grinned, straightening up. I looked around, sighing. “I’m so happy I didn’t go home alone. Your loft is just so much warmer and welcoming. I already feel more relaxed.”
“My loft...? So I’m not a contributing factor?”
I shrugged one shoulder playfully. “The jury is still out about that.”
Cole sat on the armrest, looking at me.
“Do you want to talk about today? Does that help?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never really had anyone to talk to.”
“It’s your call.”
“When doctors say it’s part of the job... they don’t really mean it. I suspect it’s just a way to stop people from asking more questions. At least, that’s what I usually say when people ask about it. It affects me, but I’ve learned to live with it. I try to remember how many people walk out healthy, and... I don’t know. It gets to me every time. I don’t always cry. I’ve never actually seen other colleagues in tears, except the occasional intern who is just starting out. It’s the only time I question if I’m cut out for this.”
“You’re a sensitive person, Laney. And you’ve been through a lot. It doesn’t mean you’re not strong. You feel everything intensely.” His voice was soft, and so were his eyes.
“Thanks for saying that.”
“I mean it. I like that about you. You’re not afraid to feel things.”
Swallowing hard, I whispered, “I am afraid of some feelings.”
“That’s understandable.”
I nodded, smiling. His words were just what I needed to hear. The confirmation I craved that being upset didn’t mean I wasn’t cut out for the job. I was allowed to feel down, even as a doctor. Being afraid didn’t mean I was a coward.
I trailed my fingers up his thigh, then up his chest, drawing my middle finger in small circles around every button. When I looked up, I simmered at the unabashed heat in his eyes.