Chapter 4 Lingering Glances, Dangerous Lines

Lily glared at her phone as if it would snap in two at her.

She had Adrian's number now-his *private* number-and it rested in her contacts like a live wire. For hours, she struggled with what to say. Should she wait a few days? Should she be cool, as if they were just... acquaintances who had shared something strange in a hospital corridor?

But every time she tried to forget the way his fingers laced with hers, the way he looked at her like he was starving for something he wasn't allowed to want, she felt the buzz of need crawling beneath her skin.

So she texted him.

> *Hi. It's Lily. I'm home.*

Simple. Safe. Sort of.

The reply came two minutes later.

> *Good. I've been thinking about you.*

She blinked at the screen, heat spreading low in her belly.

> *That's not very doctor-like of you.*

Another pause. Then:

> *No. It's not.*

> *But I'm tired of pretending I don't feel something when I do.*

She looked at the message, heart skipping. This wasn't a fling. This wasn't flirting. This was something more. Something they weren't certain either of them was prepared to handle-but couldn't prevent either.

> *Me too,* she typed.

That was sufficient.

They talked every day after that. Quietly, carefully. Always in texts. Never calls, never too much too fast. But it grew-brick by brick, spark by spark. He asked her about her job at the library on campus, about the books she loved, about the music that moved her to tears.

She asked him about his insomnia, his routine, his past-although he never told her too much about himself.

There were still walls.

But sometimes, during the quiet of the early morning hours, she would wake to a text from him:

> *I can't get over seeing your eyes.*

Or:

> *Your voice stays with me longer than it should.*

Or, once:

> *What do you think I'd do if I kissed you?*

She never replied to that one.

Because she wasn't sure that she could ever stop.

---

A week passed before they next met. By then, the texts had been addictive. Long, late-night calls filled with vulnerability neither of them had ever expected. Lily had never been so exposed. Or so *seen*.

He desired her. But more than that, he *understood* her. Even when he didn't say a word, his words seeped into her cracks.

That afternoon, she went to the hospital again-Morgan had forgotten her laptop in the staff lounge, and Lily had volunteered to drop it off on her lunch break.

She wasn't seeking him out.

But destiny didn't care what she desired.

She was walking down the far end of the corridor when she heard his voice-deep, steady, calm. It tugged at her like a thread around her spine.

She turned the corner and froze.

He stood just behind the operating room, speaking to another physician, his forehead furrowed with worry. Navy blue scrubs clad him, his white coat hung back over his shoulders, showing a chiseled chest beneath the fabric. His hair was slightly messy again, as though he'd been running his fingers through it-a movement she now recognized as an indication he was overwhelmed.

He was beautiful. Harsh and controlled and unapproachable.

And then he saw her.

The entire demeanor of his posture changed.

The speech ceased, his eyes locking with hers like a storm half-formed in the midst of the twist.

She blushed once, nodding.

His co-worker said something else, but Adrian did not hear. All his attention was hers.

Lily smiled to him with a small, wonky smile and turned down the hallway.

She walked five paces before she heard him coming after her.

"Lily."

She turned.

He was coming toward her now, fast, as if he couldn't control himself. She stepped aside into an empty alcove against the wall, her back against the chill of a supply cabinet. Adrian followed him and stopped in front of her-close. Too close.

His hands did not touch her.

But his eyes did.

"You shouldn't be here," he snarled, voice gruff. But his eyes were warm, starving, full of restraint. "You didn't say you were coming."

"I wasn't going to see you," she panted.

"And yet."

And here they were. Again. Caught up in that unseen net they couldn't escape.

"I missed this," she admitted softly.

"Missed what?"

She looked up at him, heart pounding. "The way you look at me. Like I'm not invisible."

He exhaled through his nose, stepping a little closer.

"You've never been invisible," he said. "Not to me."

Her breath caught.

His hand lifted, hesitating just before touching her cheek. The tips of his fingers brushed her skin-so lightly it was more suggestion than contact.

But it lit her nerves like fire.

They both froze.

It would have been so easy to bend in. To close the distance. To kiss her lips to his and finish the farce that they didn't want to.

But Adrian took a step back.

Not too far. Enough to make her wish for it.

"If I touch you again," he murmured, "I'm not going to stop at your cheek."

Lily swallowed. "Then don't."

A dangerous quiet lingered between them.

His hand dropped to his side. "Have dinner with me."

She blinked. "What?"

"A real date. Somewhere far from here. No scrubs. No titles."

She hesitated. "Adrian-"

"I know it's messy. I know we shouldn't. But I need to see you without all this between us. Just once."

She looked at him. Her throat closed up.

"I'll think about it," she whispered.

His face eased-like she'd already said yes.

"I'll wait," he said. "But not forever."

And then, since they were still in a hospital corridor and some remnant of him still clung to the rules, he turned and vanished.

Lily remained there hours later, her skin still buzzing from the ghost of his fingertips.

---

Later that night, her phone buzzed again.

> *I meant it. I want to see you outside of this. Just you. Just me.*

She stared at the screen for a long time.

Then replied.

> *Yes.*

---

Three days later, she met him at a small Italian café in the city-quaint and dimly lit, tucked away on a quiet corner. He was already seated when she arrived, looking neat in a dark grey button-down shirt and slacks, his hair neat but still a little bit unruly at the edges. He was sin in silk.

You are beautiful, he said the moment she stepped into the candlelight.

Lily smiled, her heart racing. She wore a fitted black dress with a subtle slit up one leg and a silver chain that caught the light just below her collarbone.

They didn't talk about the hospital.

They didn't talk about patients and ethics and age gaps.

They talked about music. Memories. Fears.

"I played piano," he admitted, sipping his wine. "When I was young. Before I thought that feelings were dangerous."

She tilted her head. "Why did you quit?"

He looked at her for a long time. "Something broke. And I didn't want to feel it anymore."

She put out her hand across the table and let her fingers brush his. Just a touch. But it made him close his eyes for a moment.

"Hardly think so," she whispered.

His jaw hardened.

"Only when you're around."

They walked outside, after dinner, in the cool spring air. The street was quiet, the city buzzing softly about them.

They stood beside her car.

Neither of them made a move.

"I want to kiss you," he growled, low and rough. "But once I do, there's no turning back."

Lily edged forward.

Her hands rose up to his shirt.

And she said the only thing that came to her mind.

"Then don't stop."