3 - Burn

“I want her.” She smiles at my request. I don't waste any time taking her.

She's dangerously hot. Fuck. Doesn't she realize that?

“Miss Hira,” Ms. Cha says, standing up and informing her that she'll be assisting me from now on.

She's annoyed by the way she looks at me. Annoyed? Shouldn't I be the one irritated by her leaving me hanging that night?

A mischievous smile again spread across my face. I can't help but grin. I don't even need an assistant, but given what happened that night and now seeing her here in my hospital, why not claim her for myself?

What I touch is mine. I won't stop until I have her. Damn, she's driving me crazy. She's burning me up.

“This is love?” I thought silently, shaking my head in denial. “No, I refuse to believe it. I won't let myself fall into the same trap as Errol, Yael, and Rafael. I won't let love drive me to madness.”

Despite my protests, I can't deny the intense feelings coursing through me. It isn't love, I reason—it’s a burning desire, a craving for her touch to cool the fire inside me. Yet, as she stands before me, the intensity only grows, the flames rising higher and hotter with each passing moment.

“Why is it getting hotter?” I wondered, feeling the heat radiating from her presence. “And why do I feel like I'm the one getting burned?”

I paused in a secluded hallway of the hospital, where few people ventured. This was also the route to my office, but I couldn't hold myself back any longer.

I turned to face her, my heart racing. She mirrored my movements, her eyes full of apprehension. Before she could pull away, I gently placed my hand on her back, drawing her closer until we were mere inches apart.

In this proximity, I could fully appreciate her beauty. Her eyes, like black-pitched almonds, held a depth that drew me in. Her thick yet clean eyebrows framed them perfectly, while her long, thick eyelashes accentuated their stunning allure. A small, pointed nose sat delicately atop her petite face, complementing her features flawlessly. And then there were her lips—thin, sweet, and rosy, inviting me with their softness and allure. She was undeniably gorgeous, and I couldn't help but voice my admiration.

“You're absolutely stunning,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper as I took in her beauty.

“Hi there, little kitten,” I greeted her softly, my tone carrying a hint of playfulness.

I felt her tremble slightly, her body tense against mine. She gulped audibly; her lips caught between her teeth in a nervous gesture. Was she afraid? And if so, why? The thought puzzled me, stirring a curious mixture of concern and intrigue within me.

It was as if the boldness she showed when she kissed me the other night had vanished. Was she now regretting it?

As I leaned in, she seemed poised to pull away. But I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her tightly against me. The sensation of her softness against me ignited desire, and I felt myself beginning to harden.

Despite the urge to give in, I forced control, tightening my grip. But in resisting, I felt on the verge of combustion, the desire threatening to consume me.

On a sudden impulse, I pressed my lips against hers, a fleeting kiss. Then, just as quickly, I released her, feeling the undeniable hardness of my arousal.

Turning away, I cursed inwardly at my lack of control.

“I just need you from time to time,” I muttered, my voice tinged with frustration, “You don't need to come with me all the time.”

But as the words left my lips, a subtle question lingered unspoken in the air: unless you want to be with me.

“You're assigned to the private rooms, right?” I asked to make sure that I wasn't wrong.

“Y-yes doc,” I smiled.

“You must do your job there. But once I call you, you must come to me at all costs. Got it?” I said, trying to maintain a professional tone despite the undeniable undercurrent of desire in my voice.

She looked a bit taken aback, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and apprehension. "Uh, doc, I'm not an assistant, I'm a nurse," she said, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

I couldn't help but chuckle at her response. "Isn't it part of your job to assist the doctor, Miss Hira?" I asked, not bothering to look at her. I was afraid of what I might do if I turned around and saw her face.

“In the field,” she stopped talking when I faced her. "You’re on the field, Miss Hira. What are you talking about?" I asked, my frown deepening as I turned to face her directly. The tension in the hallway was palpable, and I could see her swallowing nervously, which only made me smile wider.

I walked toward her, each step deliberate and measured. She instinctively took a step back, her gaze darting around as if searching for an escape. I could see the nervousness in her eyes, the way her body tensed at my approach.

“What are you expecting, Miss Hira?” I teased, watching her avert her gaze. Her avoidance only spurred me to close the distance between us, pushing her back slightly until she was almost pinned against the cleaning staff cart.

“You're in the hospital, Miss Hira,” I said, my voice firm but softened with a gentle edge. “It's crucial to be aware of your surroundings, especially with equipment like that cart around. Safety is paramount here.”

Her eyes flicked nervously toward the cart, a brief moment of realization crossing her face. It was a small but necessary reminder that even in routine settings, there are always potential risks. She quickly moved to reclaim her hand from my grasp, clearing her throat awkwardly.

I slipped my hands into my pockets, a habitual gesture when I sought comfort or stability. The weight of our encounter felt heavy on my shoulders as I turned and walked away from her, heading back to my office. Each step seemed to draw me further into my own tumultuous thoughts, the emotional and physical exhaustion from our interaction weighing me down.

The intensity of our brief encounter was still burning within me. I found myself questioning the cause of my overwhelming feelings, grappling with the inexplicable attraction that seemed to consume me. “God, why does she have this effect on me?” I muttered to myself, struggling to make sense of the confusion and desire that coursed through me. It was a question that seemed to defy any clear answer, leaving me in a state of perplexity.

When I finally reached my office, I collapsed into my swivel chair with a sense of relief mixed with frustration. The chair creaked slightly under my weight as I leaned back, attempting to collect my scattered thoughts. The encounter had left me drained, both emotionally and physically, and I needed something to break the spell.

“Could you get me some coffee first?” I asked as I sank into my swivel chair, trying to relax after the whirlwind of emotions from earlier.

I fished out my wallet and handed her my card. She looked at it with hesitation, clearly annoyed, but took it anyway. Despite her irritation, I found her expression rather endearing.

"Get yourself something too. I don’t want you collapsing or anything," I added softly, turning back to my computer and adjusting my reading glasses.

“What coffee do you like, doc?” she asked, still avoiding my gaze.

“The coffee shop already knows my order. Just tell them my name,” I replied, picking up a folder from my desk and skimming through it.

“Hurry up, Miss Hira,” I said, noticing she wasn’t moving. When I looked at her, she seemed flustered and nearly tripped over the side table as she bumped into it.

She scrambled out of the office, and once she was gone, I leaned back in my chair, chuckling softly to myself. “Damn, she’s so cute.”

A few moments later, the door creaked open, and I initially thought Hira was returning. Instead, my friend Elijah strolled in with a nonchalant attitude.

“Yo, your assistant is kind of cute,” he said, arching an eyebrow at me with a playful smirk.

“I saw her looking lost. You told her what to do, and she was clearly annoyed,” Elijah continued, laughing. I turned my attention back to the computer, scrolling through documents quickly, trying to ignore his comments.

“Why are you here?” I asked, still not turning to face him.

“Here,” he said, handing me the proposed budget for the Cardiology Department. His tone was casual, but there was an unmistakable hint of urgency in his delivery.

“And why are you the one bringing this to me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I took the folder from him.

He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know they’re afraid of you.”

“That’s not a valid reason, Mr. Elijah,” I replied, still focused on my screen.

“Fine, it’s because they know you’ll actually sign it if it comes from me,” he said, pouting slightly, as if trying to make his point.

“Reject,” I said flatly, not even opening the folder.

“Don’t be too hard, Yasmir!” Elijah exclaimed, clearly amused.

“Sir, or Mr. Elijah, we’re at work,” I said calmly, trying to maintain a professional demeanor.

“Oh fck,” he muttered under his breath, his surprise evident. He seemed taken aback by my response.

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms, and gave him a pointed look. “Are you cursing at the president now?” I asked with a sly grin.

“Yes, and if you don’t sign this, Mr. President, I’ll take Miss Hira from you. She looks absolutely stunning in her all-white uniform. I bet she’s great at kissing, considering I saw her kiss you the last time we were at the bar,” he said, grinning wider.

I sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and disbelief. “So, are you blackmailing me, Mr. Elijah?”

Elijah’s grin grew even wider. “Whoa, are you threatened, Mr. President?” he teased, clearly enjoying the banter.

“Damn you,” I muttered, feeling exasperated. Elijah laughed heartily and gestured toward the folder he was holding.

“Sign it. It’s for the patients, Mr. President, not for me,” he said with a smirk that was both charming and irritating.

Reluctantly, I picked up the folder, flipping through the pages to quickly review the report. Finding no errors or issues, I signed the documents and handed them back to him. The whole situation had left me feeling drained, yet there was a peculiar sense of satisfaction in dealing with Elijah’s antics and getting the task done.

“Tell them to send me a copy,” I instructed, watching as Elijah left with the documents.

Not long after, Hira entered the room, breathless and visibly flustered. I raised an eyebrow, noticing her hurried state.

“Here's your coffee, doc,” she said, placing the cup on my desk. I observed that she had only brought coffee and nothing for herself.

“Didn't you get anything for yourself?” I inquired, and she simply shrugged politely. Since when did she become so accommodating?

As she handed me my card, I was too engrossed in my work to accept it, so she placed it on the desk. Suddenly, in a clumsy mishap, the coffee spilled onto her lap. She let out a sharp cry of pain.

“Damn,” I muttered under my breath. Without thinking, I swiftly picked her up and carried her towards my office’s bathroom. Her reaction was a mix of shock and pain, and she instinctively clung to my neck, pressing her lips against my skin. The sensation was electric, making my pulse quicken.

Damn, she’s a fucking temptress!

I gently set her down on the closed toilet seat and removed her shoes, trying to be as careful as possible.

“Do-doc,” she stammered, her voice trembling.

“Stop talking, Hira!” I commanded firmly, though the urgency in my tone belied my inner turmoil.

I reached for the showerhead, adjusting the water to a cold temperature. I turned it on and directed the spray towards her scorched thigh. Instinctively, she lifted her skirt to avoid the cold water, revealing her smooth, unblemished skin.

The sight of her flawless skin, drenched by the cold water, made me swallow hard. The heat in my chest intensified, and I found myself loosening my tie, feeling a surge of burning desire.

Fck. I’m burning.

“D-doc...” Her voice interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to look at her, my expression clouded with anger. I couldn't fathom how she could be so reckless as to allow herself to get burned by the hot coffee.

But my frustration only intensified when I felt the burning sensation within me, a relentless reminder of the desire I couldn't act upon. Damn it.

Her black-pitched eyes met mine, and I found myself ensnared by the intensity of her gaze. She looked at me with an expression that mirrored that of a lost kitten, innocent and vulnerable. Damn it again. How was I supposed to avoid her stares when they seemed to pierce through my defenses with such ease?

“Doc, I'm wet...” she said, her voice a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort. I was momentarily stunned by her words.

She's wet already? My gaze fell on her soaked state, confirming her statement. I quickly moved the shower head away from her.

I chuckled softly, the sound serving as a release for the intense tension that had built up between us—or maybe just within me. If I didn’t find some way to alleviate the pressure, I feared I might act on impulses that I wasn’t ready to confront.

Why did she have this effect on me? Why did it feel like she was setting me ablaze, igniting a fire within me that I couldn't control? She was like a walking inferno—dangerous and alluring in equal measure. And yet, despite the risks she posed, I found myself unable to pull away from her magnetic pull.