Chapter 5 The Check-Up

Lily ran a hand through her hair for the third time in front of the hospital mirror.

She didn't know why she was on edge.

It was only a post-op check-up.

Standard. Routine. In and out.

Except everything about Adrian West wasn't standard. Nothing seemed routine when he looked at her.

Especially now.

Not after dinner. Not after that kiss.

God, that kiss.

She could still feel it-a scorching seal on her mouth, a tether around her heart. Slow, measured, burning. Not desperate or frantic. But thick with restraint... and promise. As if he was saying, *This is only the beginning.*

She couldn't say what terrified her more: that he had kissed her, or that she had not wanted him to.

"Lily Vale?" the nurse said, smiling kindly as she entered the waiting room. "Dr. West will see you now."

Lily rose, picked up her bag, and cleared her throat. "Thank you."

She followed the nurse down a quiet corridor, the only sound the soft echo of her footsteps. Her heart pounded with each step. At the end of the hall, a doorway stood ajar-just a crack. A slice of sterile light spilled out.

The nurse knocked once and then flung the door open wide.

"Dr. West, Ms. Vale is here for her follow-up."

Adrian was leaning against the counter, scribbling something on a tablet. When he looked up, his eyes met hers, and everything inside Lily stopped.

He was the same-scrubs, white coat, hair slightly rumpled-but his eyes held something they hadn't before. Something charged. Something... familiar.

"Thanks, Karen," he replied, never looking away from Lily.

The nurse nodded and moved out, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Lily clenched her grip on her bag. Adrian left his pen resting over the tablet.

And smiled.

"I wasn't sure you'd come."

"I said I would," she replied, softer than she intended.

He waved toward the exam table, his voice falling into clinical reserve, but his eyes never leaving that intensity. "Hop up. Let's take a look and see that everything's healing the way it should."

Lily moved slowly to the exam table, feeling like a lamb entering a lion's den.

She sat, swinging her legs lightly as he walked toward her, pulling on a pair of gloves. His movements were fluid. Confident. Every action controlled. But there was tension in his shoulders, in the way he didn't quite meet her gaze when he stood in front of her.

"I've read through your chart. Your recovery seems textbook perfect. Any lingering pain?"

"No," she said softly. "Just... tightness, sometimes."

He nodded, pulling out a stethoscope from behind his neck. "Let's take a listen at your heart rate."

She unzipped her hoodie just enough to reveal the V of her tank top underneath. Her collarbone rose and fell with shallow breaths.

Adrian hesitated for the barest moment.

Then placed the stethoscope against her chest, soft.

His fingers brushed over her skin.

Lily's breath hitched.

Their eyes were locked.

He didn't budge. Didn't speak. Just listened.

Her heart pounded against his hand-so hard, she was sure, that he could feel her desire, tension, longing in every wild beat.

He moved the stethoscope a fraction lower. Still high on the line of her bra. But nearer.

The silence between them was charged like electricity.

"Your heart's pounding," he breathed.

"I don't know why," she replied, her voice husky.

A muscle in his jaw flickered. He placed the stethoscope on the counter and sat back slightly, stripping off the gloves in one smooth motion.

"You're recovering marvelously," he said, trying to be bland. "But I must check your range of motion."

She nodded, her throat dry. "All right."

"Lie back for me."

Lily rested back against the paper-covered table. Adrian adjusted the headrest behind her and took her right arm gently in his hands, raising it slightly, rotating her shoulder.

His fingers were tight, professional.

And yet each caress of skin against skin was a sigh of temptation.

She watched him out of the corner of her eyes as he worked on her body-measured, assessing, but not indifferent. Never indifferent.

"How does that feel?" he asked, raising her arm higher.

"Fine," she breathed. "It feels... fine."

He edged in closer, one hand on her hip to support her while he tried another angle.

Her breath hitched again.

He stopped.

And when his gaze met hers this time, the air between them caught fire.

They were too close. Too intense. Too gone to play games anymore.

"Lily," he said, her name a low groan in his throat.

You swore you wouldn't kiss me if you didn't mean it," she panted. "Did you mean it?"

He let her arm go slowly.

And pushed the flat of his palm against the side of her, above her hipbone.

"I have not stopped thinking about that kiss," he said. "I've replayed it a hundred times. And every time I wish I'd taken more."

Her belly curled.

"Then take more," she whispered, shivering.

That was enough.

His mouth on hers in the span of a blink-sizzling, starving, consuming. Bending over her, hands locked on either side of her body as if bracing, kissing her as if drowning.

And drowning now in her.

Lily's hand tightens around his jacket, tugging him closer, her back arching off the table.

It was wrong. And horribly, horribly wrong.

And it seemed the only deceit they'd been indulging in was real.

His lips moved to her neck, igniting flames along the delicate skin just below her ear.

"You forget what I am, who I'm meant to be," he growled.

"Maybe it's time you stopped pretending," she panted.

He gasped, pulling back just enough to look at her. His face flushed, his eyes dark.

"I want you," he stated. "In every way a man can want a woman. But this. this is risky."

"I don't care," she whispered.

He kissed her again-slower. More reverent. Like he was memorizing the flavor of her.

Then he pulled away, gasping.

"We can't do this here."

She blinked, shocked.

"Then where?"

"My place," he said. "Tomorrow. No scrubs. No pretense. Just us."

She met his gaze.

And nodded.

---

The appointment was over in a few minutes, formally professional once again.

But their silence hummed with unspoken promise.

She left hospital with rosy cheeks and an obstinate heart.

And a phone that beeped with one message only:

> *You're under my skin, Lily. And I don't know how to get you out.*

She didn't answer.

She didn't need to.

For she felt it too.