Unconscious Desires

The hospital antiseptic smell hit Lily Hart the moment she pushed past the double glass doors of St. Augustine Medical Center. She inhaled deeply, fingers clamped around the strap of her canvas tote bag. Her heart hammered against her ribcage-not out of fear of the procedure itself, but because something here felt too clean, too sharp, too final.

She was in for a simple laparoscopic surgery. Nothing serious, the physicians had warned. A routine procedure to remove an ovarian cyst. She was healthy and young. No complications expected.

Still, her nerves skipped.

"Lily Hart?" a nurse called out, clipboard in hand.

She rose from the waiting room chair, smoothing out nonexistent lint on her own skirt, and followed the woman down the hallway, not looking at the pale blue walls or the patients whizzed by on wheels. At the pre-op room, the nurse handed her a gown and indicated the alcove to change. Lily nodded and stepped behind the curtain, her hands trembling as she pulled off her clothes.

Why was she getting the jitters? Maybe it was just the hospital setting. Maybe it was that shivery sensation of something huge about to happen-though she had no clue why.

Before she was switched out of her clothes and onto the gurney, she heard the door open and soft footsteps approach. Then she heard his voice.

"Lily Hart?"

Her gaze leapt to the man in the doorway.

Tall. Shoulders wide. Wearing surgical scrubs that somehow looked like they'd been tailored to order to fit his precise dimensions. Dark hair ruffled at the crown, the rest of him neat to a point of soldierly precision. A white jacket over his dark blue scrub top, a stethoscope thrown around his neck.

But it wasn't just his appearance that made her stare-it was the cold steel in his eyes. A stormy gray, unreadable. Professional. Detached.

And yet... somehow, devastatingly attractive.

"I'm Dr. Adrian West," he said, consulting her chart without looking at her first. "I'll be your anesthesiologist today. I'll be administering general anesthesia for your procedure, which is scheduled to begin in about twenty minutes."

She managed a small nod. "Okay."

His gaze leaped to hers for a moment. Cutting. Assessing.

"Are you experiencing nausea? Fever? Chest tightness? Allergies?"

"No, none."

"Problems with your heart? Medication?"

"No."

His brow creased slightly, as if rewarded by the brevity of her answers. "You're a good candidate, then. We're going to be inserting an IV shortly, and I'll explain to you what's going to occur before and after sedation."

His tone was soothing. Cold. Brusque with command.

Lily paid attention. Something in the way he avoided small talk told her that he wasn't the sort of fellow to soften his rough edges for anyone. Probably spent years perfecting this very level of detachment. She knew the type-intelligent, urbane, emotionally disengaged.

Still, though, she couldn't help speculating as to why he was that way.

"Have you ever had general anesthesia before?" he asked.

She shook her head.

He only looked at her then. Really looked. And the moment his eyes met hers-firm, unflinching-her breath was stuck in her throat. There was something behind those eyes. Not warmth, not exactly. But something that danced in the periphery of his gray irises. Something that made her feel... seen.

"Then I'll take you through the steps," he said, his tone softer this time.

He placed his finger on her wrist to check her pulse. As soon as he touched her, Lily felt the jolt of an electric charge-like the quiet thrum of a horn buzzing just under her skin. He didn't react, yet his hand stayed for half one beat longer than necessary. There was a slight pause. Just long enough for her heart to skip.

She flushed and avoided his eyes.

You'll start with an oxygen mask," he said to her. "And then I'll administer the anesthesia via your IV. You'll be out quickly, and then asleep. You won't even feel anything while I do the procedure."

"Will I wake up... scared?" she asked, and then immediately regretted sounding so childish.

His eyes met hers again, and this time there was a shift in his expression.

"No," he said, quieter. "I'll be right there the whole time. You'll be safe."

Those words struck her in the chest harder than they should have.

He handed her a consent form to sign. As she scribbled her name at the bottom, she tried not to think about how he said the word safe. Like he meant it. Like he needed her to believe it.

The nurse returned a few minutes later, pushing the IV in with clinical precision. Dr. West took a step back, folding his arms across his chest, silent but listening. As they rolled her towards the OR, he moved closer.

"You'll start to feel drowsy in maybe a minute," he said, adjusting the IV drip. "I want you to concentrate on something peaceful, okay?"

"What?" she whispered, the world already starting to slow at the periphery.

"Something that makes you feel warm. Something you trust."

Her eyelids fluttered.

But the last thing she recalled wasn't a memory or a beach or a fire-it was him.

Those eyes.

That voice.

Dr. Adrian West.

---

She woke up slowly.

The post-op room was quiet except for the gentle beeping of machines and the occasional squeak of a nurse's shoes on tile. Lily blinked against the light, her head cloudy but questing.

And then she saw him.

He sat on the stool beside her bed, chart in his hand, but his eyes fixed on her.

"How are you doing?" he asked quietly.

She blinked again. "Dizzy. Strange."

"That's to be expected. The anesthesia will take a couple of hours to wear off entirely."

His voice was calming, but his presence. it was too much. Too close. Too jarring against her dizzied thinking.

"I had a dream," she croaked.

"Oh?

She rolled her head slowly to turn to him. "You were in it."

Across his face flashed something unreadable. Then, slowly, his mouth curved-not into a smile, but into something almost. conflicted.

"You were supposed to think of something safe," he explained.

"I did."

She did not know why she spoke. Maybe it was the medication. Maybe it was the vertigo of consciousness. But his gaze fixed upon hers again, and this time it lingered longer than it should.

Too long.

They developed a silence that had something to it.

"Rest," he finally said, rising.

His fingers brushed across her shoulder as he smoothed the blanket over her. Another tender touch, another jolt of electricity running through her system. It was nothing. Professional. Necessary.

It didn't feel like nothing, though.

He turned and walked away, and Lily lay there, heart pounding, trying to make sense of what on earth had just happened.

She'd met her anesthesiologist. He was cold, impassive, much too controlled.

And yet. something about him made her feel the very opposite.

It had been a week since the surgery, but Lily couldn't shake him from her mind.

Dr. Adrian West.

She'd attempted-attempted hard-to rid herself of the strange magnetic pull he'd left in her bones, a lingering effect of the anesthesia he'd administered to her. But the moment she awakened in the recovery room and his face was there, looking at her with that unfathomable intensity, something within her shifted.

Something irreversible.

Now she was back in the hospital again for her routine post-op visit. Nothing major-just a regular appointment to ensure the surgical site was healing nicely. She'd already been to see the gynecologist who'd performed the procedure. The last item on her agenda was a follow-up from anesthesia services.

That wasn't the norm, the nurse had said. But Dr. West liked to personally follow up on some patients.

Some patients. Those words had echoed in her mind for hours.

Lily sat on the exam table in a private consult room, swinging her feet listlessly, trying not to squirm. The paper covering the table crunched beneath her thighs. Her sundress was casual, loose and soft against her skin, but her palms were damp, her heartbeat betraying her calm exterior.

The door opened, and the room went quiet.

He entered with the same subdued authority as ever-Adrian West, in a charcoal button-down shirt with sleeves pushed to his forearms, a white coat draped over his lean shoulders. He looked less doctor-like today and more like something off the cover of one of those steamy romance novels she read in secret. Only this wasn't fantasy. He was real. And standing three feet before her.

"Mister Hart," he said, voice as sleek as ever.

"Lily," she corrected, and it escaped before she could help herself.

He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes flicking to hers with the faintest brush of surprise. A heartbeat hung between them.

"Lily," he repeated, more gently this time. "I do hope you're recuperating well?"

"Yes," she said, fiddling with the hem of her dress. "Minimal pain. Some soreness and occasional cramping, but otherwise. I feel normal."

He nodded. "Good to hear. Fever? Dizziness? Excessive bleeding?"

"No."

"Appetite?"

"Back to normal."

"Any unusual dreams?" he added, voice level.

Lily blinked.

Was that... on purpose?

She bit her lip and shrugged. "A few. Nothing bad."

A faint twitch of his lips, there and gone. "Good."

He came in and opened up her chart, scanning it briefly. "Your vitals were good in triage. Blood pressure's stable. Let me take a look at the surgical area for swelling or any signs of infection."

She nodded, thankful that she was wearing a dress.

Adrian set the chart aside and pulled on a pair of gloves. His movements were casual, deliberate. Still, Lily couldn't help but notice how his sleeves crept up his forearms, revealing strong wrists and veins beneath the skin. She wasn't supposed to notice such things-not with a doctor. Not with him.

But her body noticed anyway.

"Lie back," he said, tapping the table.

She reclined slowly, heat blooming across her cheeks.

Adrian stood beside her, his hands cool and professional as he lifted the fabric of her dress and carefully examined the area near her lower abdomen. His touch was clinical, methodical-but even through the latex, the heat of his skin seemed to burn through her.

"You're healing beautifully," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

She risked a glance at his face-just as he looked up.

Their eyes locked, and her breath caught in her chest.

It was a moment, hardly long enough for her to have forgotten where she was. Hardly long enough to imagine that his hands were not gloved. That the ferocity with which he looked at her now-like she was some breakable, perilous thing-meant something more.

But then he stepped back, peeling off the gloves and disposing of them in the bin.

"Everything looks good," he said. "You're recovering well. I'll note that in your file."

She sat up slowly, adjusting her dress. Her fingers trembled slightly.

"Thank you," she murmured, trying to sound composed.

Adrian didn't respond at first. He simply watched her, the silence stretching between them like a drawn wire.

Then: "I remember you said I was in your dream."

She tensed.

She looked up. "I... yeah."

"Was I wearing scrubs?" he asked, voice low and unreadable.

Lily stared. "No."

A pause. A muscle ticced in his jaw.

"I don't usually stop by to see patients after surgery," he said. "But I needed to see you for myself."

"Why?" she whispered.

His eyes met hers-and this time there was no restraint, no cold. Just warmth. Something more.

Because I haven't been able to get you out of my mind," he stated.

Her breathing caught.

"I don't know why," he continued, his voice lower now. "But you... stayed with me. And that doesn't happen."

Lily swallowed. "Maybe it's the anesthesia talking."

He laughed once-low and dark, the sound grating something inside her. "Maybe."

Neither one of them moved.

Tension between them thickened like smoke-coiling, stretching, pulling them nearer in the silence. Her heart thudded against her ribs. He was still so calm. But his eyes betrayed him.

There was fire behind the storm.

Then he stepped closer.

Not close. Just a foot closer. Just close enough to have her tilt her chin up to meet his gaze.

"I shouldn't be thinking about you," he said. "It's... unethical. Inappropriate."

"I'm not your patient anymore," she whispered.

That made him pause.

"Still," he said, though his voice wavered now. "I'm supposed to be detached."

"Are you?" she asked.

He didn't answer.

The silence between them was electric.

"I could walk out right now," she said, standing slowly, the edge of her sundress brushing her thighs.

"You should," he said, even though he didn't move.

But she didn't.

And neither did he.

She stepped closer. "I don't scare easy."

He smiled weakly, in pain. "You should."

Her voice dropped. "Why?"

"Because I don't do soft," he said, his eyes locked on hers. "I don't do safe. I've buried too much to be anything but a warning sign."

She reached out, her fingers brushing his.

It was barely a touch. But it was like a spark touched a live wire.

"I think," she whispered, "I like warning signs."

His hand curled around hers, finally giving in to the gravity between them.

But just as quickly, he released her, stepping back like he'd touched fire.

"This is a mistake," he said roughly. "I'm sorry."

He turned and walked to the door, fingers flexing like they ached.

She watched him go, breathless and aching and alive in a way she hadn't felt in years.

It was a mistake. A dangerous one.

Yet God, she wanted to do it again.

Three days.

It had been three days since Lily's visit to Dr. Adrian West, and yet she couldn't get him out of her head.

His voice still lingered in her mind, calm and laced with menace. His touch, fleeting and professional, still lingered on her skin. And those eyes-piercing and troubled-kept flashing before her eyes every time she closed them.

This wasn't typical. She didn't *do* this. She didn't get swept up in men, didn't get lost in older, dark doctors with intense eyes and dominant presences. And yet there she was, striding through her favorite bookstore café, with a vanilla latte in front of her, unable to concentrate on the novel she had taken off the shelf.

She wasn't even reading the pages anymore. She was living again. Stolen moments. The way his voice had gone low when he'd told her he'd not been able to stop thinking about her. The way his fingers had curled around her fingers for a second, like he'd forgotten they were in a cold room with bright lights and rules and walls.

Then he'd walked away from her.

She didn't blame him. Not really. He was older. A doctor. He had more to lose. But that didn't make the pain in her chest any easier to put out of her mind.

She sipped another drink of her coffee, attempting to drown it all in warmth and sweetness.

Over in town, Adrian West stood before the mirror in his private office, gazing at himself as if he didn't know the man staring back at him.

He'd done it all right for years. Kept his distance. Maintained his boundaries. Managed every inch of his highly ordered world. And yet one twenty-four-year-old woman with questioning eyes and a voice like hot chocolate had rendered all of that useless.

He hadn't meant to personally take on her case. It had started in good faith-real medical obligation. But the moment he saw her, standing on that table in that sundress hugging her tiny curves, her eyes lighting up at the mere presence of him... everything changed.

And now?

Now he caught himself thinking about what her laugh sounded like when she was not near. What kind of music she listened to when no one else was around. How her mouth would taste if he allowed himself to fall just once.

He rubbed his hands down his face and swore.

He needed something to distract him. Something to get her out of his system before things went any further.

But fate, as it always does, had other ideas.

---

Later that afternoon, Lily was in the hospital gift shop, mindlessly scanning a small display of candles by the window. Her best friend Morgan had texted, requesting a ride home after a minor ER visit. Something about passing out during a long day as a medical intern.

Lily figured she'd kill the time here until Morgan got out. She wasn't all that happy to be back here... especially not when it reminded her of *him*.

She grabbed a candle that smelled like lavender and glanced over at a tall figure entering the store from across the street.

Her heart missed a beat.

Adrian.

He hadn't caught sight of her yet. He walked along in the same confident refinement he always showed, coat draped over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, hair a little mussed like he'd been running his hands through it. He was speaking quietly to someone behind him-another doctor, maybe. But then he turned, and their eyes locked.

For an instant, the world contracted.

Neither of them moved. The background din-beeping equipment, soft conversation, wrapper crinkle-disappeared.

Then, silently, he apologized to his colleague and stepped over the distance between them.

"Lily," he said, his tone softer than she remembered. "What are you doing here?"

She swallowed, clutching the candle against her like a shield. "My friend had a little scare. I'm waiting for her."

He nodded. "You're okay then?"

"I'm fine."

His eyes roamed across her face, lingering a fraction too long. "You look... different."

"How so?"

He hesitated. "Lighter. Like you've been sleeping better."

"Maybe I have."

There was a silence between them. Pedestrians pushed shoulders and grumbled, but they were still locked in that unseeable bubble.

Adrian looked down, then back. "I wasn't looking for you to be here."

"Neither was I," she said. "But maybe it's for the best."

He tilted his head. "Why?"

"Because I dislike how we ended things."

His jaw clenched. "You mean me just leaving like a coward?"

Her eyes widened at his honesty.

He exhaled and looked away for a moment, collecting himself. "I'm not accustomed to... *this*. You understand that, don't you?"

Lily drew in a little closer, her voice lowering. "Do you really think I am?".

"I haven't let anyone in for years," he answered. "I don't know how to do this without breaking something."

"I'm not asking you to," she said quietly. "I'm just asking you not to run."

Their eyes met again, and this time neither of them blinked.

She wasn't certain who had initiated it. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was her. But in a moment, they were closer than they should have been, standing amongst piles of greeting cards and perfume lotion, air so thick that it could be sliced.

His hand brushed against hers as she stored the candle.

It was an accident.

But the jolt that it sent racing through her body denied.

They both felt it.

Adrian inhaled sharply, and let his fingertips graze the edge of her hand again, more cautiously this time, as if tasting something fragile.

"I don't dare touch you," he whispered, but he did not move away. "If I do, I won't be able to stop."

She cooled.

"You're just getting warmed up."

He gasped as if he was fighting to contain himself. "You make it hard for me to be the man I'm supposed to be."

"Then be the man you *want* to be," she breathed.

That was all.

His hand slipped into hers, warm and commanding, weaving their fingers into the narrow gap between them.

It was not a kiss. It was not even a hug. But it was intimacy in its nakedest sense-unspoken, charged, unescapable.

A nurse went by and gave them a questioning glance, and Adrian pulled hastily away, letting go of her hand.

"Not here," he said.

"Then where?"

He stood there with a torn look for a moment. And then he pushed his hand into his coat pocket, pulled out a small card, and handed it to her.

"My private number," he said to her. "Call me when you get home."

Lily blinked in surprise. "You sure?"

"No," he said. "But I don't want to keep fooling myself."

She watched him walk away again-but he didn't look back.

She clutched the card in her fist, her heart racing so hard she thought it would burst.

This was not tension anymore.

This was the start of something irreversible.

And it was going to get worse from here.