“Fine. Four hundred bucks. Also, I’m fairly certain you don’t get hepatitis from walking around a hospital floor barefoot. Do you have any clue how much they sanitize these places?”
“Do you, Doctor Grump?” She turns up her nose and then shakes her head. “It’s still gross.”
Wrong. The only grossness is all the filthy things I want to do to that mouth.
“Look, I’ll buy you slippers from the gift shop and pay you five hundred dollars for your stupid shoes. Deal?”
She cocks her head, fixing me with a stare that questions my sanity.
“You’re joking? Why do you want my shoes so bad?”
“I don’t. I’m worried you’re going to break your neck, and I’ve had enough damn ER visits for one day,” I grind out.
“Psssh. I wonder when you’ll get your fill in sniping at me over ridiculous things?”
I came outside to apologize, so I’m trying not to bite her head off, but seriously. The girl’s exasperating.
“I don’t know, but I still think you should apologize to the floor in my lobby.”
She sighs and turns her head. “Fine, but buy me the slippers first, jerk. And I guess since you have time to harass me, Beatrice is okay?”
I’m bristling an iota less. She’s such a sweet girl, her eyes shimmering like an emerald forest with worry.
I shouldn’t be such a Wardhole all the time.
“She’ll be cooped up here for a few days, but she’s fine, thanks to you. I came looking for you because I wanted to thank you again.”
She gives me a long, wondering look and then shrugs. “Well, no need. It’s what any normal human being would’ve done. I had to help her.”
“And I’ve been a little bit of a hardass on you,” I say.
“A little?” Her eyes flash.
“A lot, are you happy?” I shake off my annoyance and offer my hand. “Truce? For real this time?”
Miss Holly stares for a moment before clasping my fingers. She feels so small, so fragile, so much like something I came too close to breaking like the staggering fucking moose I am.
“Truce,” she echoes, a faint smile on her lips.
She’s still hanging on my hand. I must be out of my mind from today’s events, because I pull her closer, then move so she’s backed against the wall, and do the most idiot thing possible.
I press my lips to hers in a kiss that’s unholy.
It’s greedy. Electric. Unrepentant.
I kiss her with a maelstrom of hunger that ends in a rushing growl, pawing at her hips, sucking in her gasp. All while a panicked voice buried in my head screams, what the ever-loving fuck are you doing?
She should slap me blind, if she doesn’t just progress straight to stabbing me first. But incredibly, she opens her mouth. I lick her lip with animalistic need, slide in, and caress until she moans against my tongue.
Goddamn.
Miss Holly.
Paige.
She cups my arm with her hand, sinking her nails into my flesh. Her fingers tremble.
The seething bulge in my pants grazes her thigh when I shift, and I swear, if we weren’t in public, I would hump her like a feral dog.
Another kiss.
Another molten groan.
Another whispering moan like a smoking campfire from her lips.
That’s when I move away with a furious jerk, fighting off disaster.
Holy fuck.
What kind of jagoff am I? I just made out with my assistant in front of my grandmother’s hospital room. Right after I spent the day on a roller coaster from the height of my career before plunging down to fear, loathing, despair, and bad decisions.
Yes, I’m going straight to hell, and I deserve it.
“W-Ward?” she gasps. “Mr. Brandt?”
I get even dumber. I lean in, placing a kiss against her hair. “Go into the room, please, and park your butt on the chair until I’m back with your slippers. Do not walk around.”
She flashes me a red-faced smile. “That’s kinda tyrannical, you know. You’re as bad as Magnus Heron.”
“Nah, I’m not a showy marketer midwit like him.” I shake my head. “I told you, one ER visit a day is my limit. Can I ask you something?”
Her throat pulses as she swallows, green eyes so glittery and full of light.
“Sure,” she answers softly.
“How did you know what to do back at the office?”
“I was a lifeguard at YMCA summer camps in high school. I’ve kept my CPR certification up, because you never know when you’ll need it. But I’ve never used it before today in a real emergency.”
“God, you’re amazing,” I whisper, my throat so raw. I need to get the hell out of here. “Go sit.”
She beams and retreats into the hospital room.
My head comes unscrewed, trying to sort out what this day even is.
Damn it all.
I kissed her.
I tasted my very off-limits assistant, and I fucking liked it.
No clue how to deal with this tomorrow, but I know how it ends.
Certain cataclysm.
7
Mad Men (Paige)