Undeniably Enemies: Chapter 33

“Why don’t you have an office?” Wren moans as I trail kisses along the back of her exposed neck while I palm her tits beneath her shirt and scrub top.

“I’m an emergency room physician. We don’t have offices. Unless I get chief, that won’t change. Fuck, you’re soft.”

Her hands plant on the rack of sterile saline and gauze in front of her, and she angles her head to the side to give me better access. “You mean when you get chief.”

“Right. When.”

Except we haven’t heard anything yet. It’s been over a month since I interviewed, and no word yet. I also know they’ve flown in two hotshots, one from Dallas and one from Seattle, to interview for the position. The board is taking its sweet time on this, and now we’re rounding toward the holidays, so who knows. Callan isn’t happy about it. He wants to step down and be with Willow.

“Speaking of you getting chief, we shouldn’t do this here.”

My lips whisper kisses along her jaw as my hand dips into her scrubs straight between her smooth legs where I start to tease at her wetness. She’s right. We shouldn’t. But she feels so good.

“I haven’t had my fingers in your cunt in three days, Wren. That’s completely unacceptable.”

“I’ve hated you working nights.”

I nip at her ear. “Me too.”

I’ve hardly seen her this week unless I come in early, or she does the same. Even then, it’s a quick passing—a stolen kiss in a hall or elevator—because we don’t get a lot of moments like this here. I’ve worked four twelve-hour night shifts back-to-back, and I’m finally done. I’m exhausted. It’s a lot. And Wren has been working long, arduous shifts in trauma surgery.

My plan is to sleep for a few hours and make Wren dinner, followed by spending the entire night inside of her.

“You should go.”

“Mmm,” she hums as I run my fingers along her clit and around her opening. “I should.”

“Maybe you should stay and come first.”

“We could get caught.”

We won’t. At least I don’t think we will. That could be my dick talking, though. I don’t know for sure. It’s five in the morning, and all my patients are waiting on either a bed upstairs or labs, which are both notoriously slow at this hour, and Wren doesn’t start her prerounds until six-ish. I told one of the nurses I was going to find a place to sleep for twenty minutes and to page me if she needed me.

But there’s no fun in telling her all that.

“We could.” I plunge two fingers straight inside her, missing her tight, wet heat and how it feels on my cock. “What would you do, Wren, if someone walked in right now and found you moaning while getting your nipples pinched and your cunt fucked by your boss?”

“Oh, fuck,” she moans, and I pinch her clit in warning.

“Shh, Cinderella. Quiet.” It might be bastardly early, and no one is looking for me or knows Wren is here yet, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t actually get caught. Even in this bulk supply closet, we can still hear the faint sounds of the hospital down the hall.

My fingers start to pump into her, and I use my other hand to undo the tie on her scrub pants.

“I thought this was just your fingers.”

“I have to have you, baby.” I rub my dick against her pert little ass. “You feel that? You feel how hard you make me? No way I can finish my shift until I’ve fucked you. I want you leaking my cum during all your surgeries today. I want you to feel me every time you squirm or move.”

The heavy rhythm of her breathing matches the pace of my fingers as I move in and out of her while her scrubs drop to the floor and mine follow. I’ve never fucked anyone at work before, and it’s as thrilling as it is terrifying.

Without any hesitation, I slip my fingers from her pussy and move them to her hip. This is going to have to be hard and fast. Lining myself up, I slide straight into her and groan louder than I intend. My face plants where her neck meets her back, right on that bony prominence, and I use that bit of pain to focus me.

“Jack, I should tell you something.”

“What’s that?” I pant, gritting my teeth and closing my eyes because I’m so close to coming, and I haven’t even moved yet.

“I stopped taking my birth control last week.”

Well, that’s an orgasm killer. “I’m sorry, what?”

She giggles, and I rear back and turn her head so our eyes meet.

“You were kidding?” Then it hits me. “That scene from the last book we read.”

“Bingo.”

“You fucking brat, that scared the hell out of me.”

“You seemed like you were having issues with your concentration.”

“I was.” I smack a kiss on her lips and one on her ass. “I’ll punish you for that later. I want babies with you, Wren Fritz. Lots of them. Just not today. Not until you’re ready for them.”

“Glad to hear it. Now fuck me so we can both get to work.”

Right. With my hands on her hips, I start to pound into her, setting a heavy pace that rattles the shelving. Her legs spread wider and her hips jut back, giving me a better angle, and holy sweet Jesus, how did I go so many days, so many years, without this?

My cock slides in and out of her, a relentless thrusting game of grip and pull that is blowing my mind. I kiss and suck on her neck, tasting her skin, the sweet and salt of it, and then get greedy and turn her face so I can capture her lips. I’ve been with Wren for two weeks now.

Two weeks of sleeping together nearly every night. Of days spent working or hanging out or being around each other while pretending to be nothing more than amicable. We cook and read books aloud to each other and fuck like crazy and play and tease and talk all the time. I’m so in love with her. More so every day.

I want to hold her hand on the street and have her sit on my lap at her brother’s house while we eat or watch football. I want the life with her. I’m thirty-five. I’m ready. But I guess that’s what happens when you date a woman ten years younger than you. You have to learn patience and the fun of sneaking around.

Like this.

“Rub your clit, Wren. Make yourself come all over me.”

Her fingers slip between her parted legs, and my hands grip the front of her thighs so I can really fuck her. It doesn’t take either of us long. A few more seconds and we’re both barreling over the edge into the sweet abyss. My teeth sink into her shoulder, and I groan and grunt my release, my toes curling in my sneakers.

“Fuck,” I hiss, panting against her.

“What?” she asks, startled. “Did someone hear us?”

“No. I don’t have anything to clean you up with.”

“It’s fine. I’ll run to the bathroom.”

I right my body and spin her around, pull up her scrubs, and tie the bow for her. I do the same with mine before I gather her in my arms so I can kiss her. “I’ll see you after your shift.”

“Yes. Get some sleep. You look tired.”

“I thought I never looked tired.”

“No, I said you never look like shit. But you do look tired.”

I kiss her deeply before I release her and take a step back. “I’ll exit first and make sure it’s clear.”

“That was fun.” She pulls the elastic from her messy ponytail and sticks it between her teeth as she fixes it.

“It was.” I kiss her cheek, drag my hands back through my hair so it’s somewhat tame, and open the closet door. No one is around and the hall is empty. “We’re good. Have a good shift.”

“Have a good sleep.”

Just as the closet door shuts behind her, my nurse turns the corner. “Oh, Dr. Kincaid.” She blinks, taking in both of us with suspicion. “I was coming to find you.”

“You found me. Just one second.” I smile at her and turn back to Wren, whose cheeks are flushed, and she’s blatantly skirting the nurse’s eyes. “I think that’s a great idea for Owen’s birthday,” I say to Wren. “Just let me know what you need for it, and I’m happy to help.”

Wren beams a smile at me. “Great. Thanks. I’ll let you get back to it. See you later, Jack.” She gives me an innocent wave and jogs off. But fuck, was that close. Two seconds earlier and we would have been caught for sure. Uneasiness settles on me. What we just did was insanely stupid. I’m after chief, and Wren is looking to match.

It’s easy to forget that when we’re together. It’s easy to get wrapped up in the moment.

But the last thing I can do is put either of our careers at risk like that again.

“What are you planning to make?”

I throw Wren a look. “I thought we said chicken parm. Is that not good?”

“Chicken parm is great.”

She rests her head on my shoulder, and I wrap my arm around her waist as we stroll through the gourmet shop she likes that’s near our building.

“You’re going to make garlic bread, right?”

I chuckle. “Did you honestly think I’d make you Italian without garlic bread?”

“I don’t know how you do things.”

I pinch her ass. “Yes, you do. At this point, you do. My girl likes garlic bread or really any kind of bread. If I ever made you food without it, I’d be in trouble.”

She spins and wraps her arms around my neck. “This is why I’m keeping you.”

I smile and bend down to kiss her. “Glad to hear it.”

“Well, well, well, Kincaid. Now I know why you wanted to keep me away from your med student. You were busy fucking her yourself.”

Wren and I jump back like two teenagers who just got caught. Because we did. By fucking Harrison Marshall of all people. Shit. Shit!

He’s smiling like the cat who just ate the canary, and why shouldn’t he be? He’s got me, and he knows it. His dark, beady eyes are practically gleaming in delight.

“I have to say, I didn’t think you were the type. You always seemed too by the book. So straitlaced.”

“You mean so unlike yourself,” Wren snaps, and while I love her being protective in her way, it’s not going to help either of us right now.

“I’ve never done anything wrong.”

“You pinched my ass. Twice.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There was no such indiscretion. Unlike your teacher here. Fritz or not, this isn’t a good look for you either, though I don’t plan to drag you through the mud the way I will him.” He turns back to me. “I should thank you. You just handed me the chief position on a bright, shiny platter.”

“Even if I don’t get chief, that doesn’t mean you will.”

He laughs. “I think we both know that’s not true. It’ll be mine now for sure.” He gives me a long, loaded look. “You know, I never liked you. More than just because you’re a cocky asshole. You came in and all but took over with your Fritz connections and close ties with Callan. I can’t tell you how much I disliked you because of that. It only makes this sweeter for me because I’ll have your job and see you out on your ass when I’m chief. I told you I’m not someone to mess with.” He winks at me. “See you tomorrow at work, Dr. Kincaid. If you’re not fired before that.”

Smugly, he walks off, and I can’t say anything in return. Not fuck you or you’re a piece of shit or anything. He has the upper hand, and this is going to look bad. I should have come clean about it weeks ago. I should have said something to Callan or to the board. I didn’t, and that’s on me. I figured I had time. I figured if I got the chief position, I’d disclose that then. And part of me, if I’m being totally honest, was worried that if I owned up to it, they’d automatically take me out of the running and I’d lose it.

But now I’ve lost it anyway.

And it looks like I was fucking Wren all this time, even when she was my medical student, which I wasn’t—not more than that one weekend anyway—but that’s simply my word versus his.

“Jack?”

I turn and look at her.

“How bad is this for you?”

“I don’t know,” I admit honestly.

“Could you lose your job?”

“I doubt it. Even if he becomes chief, he can’t fire me without cause.” Though he can make my life a living hell until I quit. Or conjure up some bullshit cause. Not to mention this will be noted anytime my name is mentioned. It’ll be remembered, and I’ll be passed over for things like promotions or raises. I could move hospitals. I could go somewhere else, but the rumors will follow me. It seems like he’ll make sure of that.

“But chief⁠—”

“I won’t get chief now.”

Her expression crumples, and she plants her face into my chest and wraps her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Jack. So sorry. You wanted to tell everyone about us weeks ago. I pushed it off and pushed it off. It’s my fault.”

“It’s mine, Wren.”

“No. I asked you to keep us quiet.”

“I didn’t argue it that hard.” Not hard enough. I wanted to make her happy. I wanted to make it not so stressful for her. I wanted us to have time as just us. And for all the reasons—well, most of the reasons—I raged at Owen, I’m now raging at myself. Because if I had been honest and open about my feelings and relationship with her, this wouldn’t have happened. But I liked our bubble. Our insulated world.

Just as she didn’t want to rock it, I didn’t either.

Her chin hits my sternum, and she looks up at me with her big, blue eyes. “Do you hate me?”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “No.”

“But you’re mad at me.”

“No, sweetheart.” I run my hand down the back of her hair. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. I’m mad at the situation. I’m mad that I got my hopes up despite my best efforts, and yet again, something I wanted is being taken from me. Only this time, I have no one to blame but myself.”

Cheerful holiday music pumps through the grocery store, mocking me, and I feel like everything is falling apart. Again. I hate this feeling. This wild, out-of-control feeling. I have to do something about it, but I’m not sure what to do. It’s not just me on the line anymore. This will hurt Wren too.