Chapter 47
[ 502 words ]
Chapter 47:
Jarrod groaned. The sound vibrated against her lips. He shifted his weight, pressing his lower body flush against hers, leaving absolutely no doubt about the physical effect she was having on him.
They were drowning in each other.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Caroline? Jarrod? Breakfast is ready!” Mrs. Thompson’s cheerful voice pierced through the heavy oak door.
Jarrod tore his mouth away from hers.
He froze, his chest heaving violently. He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles ticked. He took a ragged, shuddering breath, fighting for control.
Caroline lay beneath him, her lips swollen, her eyes glazed, her heart beating so fast she thought she might pass out.
Jarrod slowly opened his eyes. He looked down at her flushed face, his gaze lingering on her wet lips.
He pushed off the bed, standing up in one fluid motion. He didn’t say a word. He turned his back to her, running his left hand through his dark hair, trying to compose himself before facing her mother.
𝗧𝘩е b𝘦s𝘵 𝗋𝘦𝖺d𝗂𝗻g 𝘦𝘹p𝗲𝘳𝗶𝘦ո𝘤𝗲 𝗼𝗇 ga𝗅𝗻о𝘃𝖾𝘭ѕ.c𝗼𝗆
The silence at the breakfast table was excruciating.
Caroline sat staring at her plate of scrambled eggs, mechanically pushing them around with her fork. She couldn’t bring herself to look up. Every time she breathed, she could still feel the phantom weight of Jarrod’s body pressing her into the mattress, the bruising heat of his mouth on hers.
Sitting across from her, Jarrod was the picture of aristocratic composure. He calmly sipped his black coffee, engaging Mr. Thompson in a low-toned discussion about the morning news. He acted as if the explosive, near-loss of control in the bedroom had never happened.
At 8:00 AM sharp, a black SUV pulled up outside.
Jarrod stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. He thanked Mrs. Thompson for the meal with a flawless smile. He walked to the foyer, and Caroline followed him, her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach.
Jarrod opened the front door. He paused and turned back to her.
His gray eyes swept over her face, lingering for a microsecond on her lips. “I will contact you later,” he said, his voice low and completely unreadable.
He turned and walked out to the waiting car.
Caroline watched the SUV disappear down the street. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She felt exhausted, confused, and terrified of how quickly her body was surrendering to him.
She forced herself to shake it off. She had to go to work.
An hour later, Caroline stepped off the elevator onto the surgical floor of Washington United Medical Center, wearing her blue intern scrubs.
The moment her sneakers hit the linoleum, she felt it. The atmosphere was wrong.
Usually, the morning shift change was a chaotic blur of exhausted nurses ignoring her. Today, as she walked past the main nurses’ station, three senior nurses stopped talking and turned to look at her.
They didn’t glare. They smiled.
“Good morning, Caroline!” one of them chirped, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Love how you did your hair today.”
Caroline froze, her stomach dropping. She offered a stiff nod and hurried toward the locker room.
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