Chapter 63
[ 478 words ]
Chapter 63:
The last shred of her rational control snapped.
Caroline tilted her chin up. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his.
The moment she touched him, Jarrod let out a low, guttural groan.
He took total control. His left hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. He angled her head and crushed his mouth against hers.
It was a desperate, consuming kiss. Caroline opened her mouth, letting him in. She grabbed the lapels of his overcoat, pulling him closer, kissing him back with a frantic heat that shocked her.
They devoured each other in the dark, silent car. The only sound was their heavy, ragged breathing.
When Jarrod finally pulled away, Caroline was gasping for air. Her lips were swollen, her eyes glazed.
𝗥о𝗆𝖺n𝘤𝗲 ո𝗼𝘷𝖾𝘭𝘀 о𝘯 𝘨𝖺𝘭nо𝗏elѕ.𝖼𝘰𝗆
Jarrod rested his forehead against hers. His chest was heaving.
“I will send the car for you tomorrow night,” Jarrod whispered roughly, his thumb stroking her cheek.
Caroline nodded blindly. She pushed the door open, stumbled out of the SUV, and practically ran up the driveway to her front door.
She locked the door behind her and leaned against the wood, clutching her chest.
She went to her tiny bedroom and fell onto the mattress.
She stared at the ceiling. Her lips were still burning. Her blood was rushing through her veins like liquid fire.
The rigorous discipline she usually relied on to stay calm under extreme pressure completely failed her. As she lay there, she felt her heartbeat spiraling entirely out of control, hammering so violently it felt like it might rip straight through her ribcage.
Caroline didn’t sleep a single second that night.
At 6:30 AM, the harsh, shrill blare of the alarm clock shattered the silence of the bedroom.
Caroline groaned. She slammed her hand down on the snooze button.
Her head was pounding with a vicious, throbbing ache. Her eyes felt like they were full of sand. She dragged herself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom.
She looked in the mirror. Two massive, dark purple bags hung under her eyes. She looked like a corpse.
Panic set in as she looked at her watch. She was going to be late.
She threw on her scrubs, skipped breakfast entirely, and sprinted out the door.
The Washington D.C. morning commute was a brutal, gridlocked nightmare. She missed her Metro connection. By the time she sprinted through the sliding glass doors of Washington United Medical Center, she was sweating and gasping for air.
She checked her watch. She was exactly fifteen minutes late.
Caroline jogged down the hallway, pushed open the locker room door, and threw her bag into her locker. She walked out to the main nurses’ station to sign the attendance sheet.
The moment she stepped up to the counter, the ambient noise in the hallway died.
Melanie Thorne was leaning against the desk. She was holding a steaming cup of coffee. Her eyes locked onto Caroline, glittering with toxic, malicious joy.
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