Ava's fingers froze mid-stroke, her breath catching in her throat as the door handle jiggled again. Fuck. The metallic click of the lock being tested sent a jolt of panic through her, her body still humming with denied pleasure, her thighs slick and trembling. She yanked her hand from her panties with a wet squelch, her fingers glistening, and fumbled with her blouse, buttons slipping through shaking fingers. The fabric barely covered her flushed skin before the handle turned fully—and the door creaked open just an inch before hitting her back.
A deep, unfamiliar voice rumbled from the other side. "Dr. Lawson?"
She pressed harder against the door, her pulse hammering in her ears. "Think, think, think—" "Y-yes?" Her voice came out breathier than she intended, the remnants of her arousal thickening her tone. She cleared her throat, forcing steel into her words. "I'm—ah, in the middle of something. Can I help you?"
The door pushed against her again, this time with more insistence. "Ma'am, I need to check the room. The blinds are drawn, and I heard… unusual noises." A pause. "Hospital policy requires a sweep if there's any suspicion of unauthorized activity."
A suspicion of unauthorized activity. Oh, if only he knew. Ava's mind raced, her body still thrumming with the ghost of her almost-orgasm, her nipples tight against the lace of her bra. She could feel the dampness between her thighs, the sticky evidence of her desperation clinging to her skin. If he so much as glanced at her, he'd know. One look at her flushed face, her swollen lips, the way her skirt was still hitched up from when she'd been touching herself—and it'd be over.
She forced a laugh, high and slightly unhinged. "Unusual noises? Oh, you must mean my—uh—very intense phone call." She grabbed the first object her fingers found—a stapler—and held it to her ear like a receiver, pressing it hard enough to leave a dent in her palm. "Yes, Mmhmm, I understand, Board Member Whitmore. No, the budget cuts are absolutely unacceptable—" She pitched her voice louder, hoping it carried through the crack in the door. "I'll fight this tooth and nail, you can be damn sure—"
The guard didn't budge. "Ma'am, I still need to visually confirm—"
"Visually confirm." Ava's stomach twisted. If he stepped in now, he'd see her disheveled blouse, the way her skirt was still riding up her thighs, the smell of her arousal thick in the air. She could practically taste her own desperation. "Listen," she said, dropping the stapler and pressing her palm flat against the door, as if she could physically bar him from entering, "I'm discussing highly sensitive patient confidentiality issues. If you barge in, I'll have to report this breach to HR, and trust me, you don't want that paperwork."
A beat of silence. Then, the unmistakable sound of a radio crackling to life on the other side. "Copy that, doing a routine check in Dr. Lawson's office—" The guard's voice was muffled, like he'd turned his head. "No, no signs of intrusion. Just the doc on a call."
Ava exhaled shakily, her shoulders sagging—until the handle jiggled again.
"Ma'am," the guard said, firmer now, "I'm gonna need you to open the door. Just a quick look. Then I'm gone."
Fuck. Fuck. She could hear the suspicion in his voice. He wasn't buying it. Her mind scrambled for an out—fake a coughing fit? Claim she was changing? No, no, too obvious. Then it hit her. "Fine," she snapped, injecting just the right amount of irritation into her tone. "But if you're coming in, you're helping me fix this." She reached over and yanked the blinds open just an inch, letting a sliver of fluorescent light cut through the dim room. "The damn air conditioning's broken. I've been roasting in here for twenty minutes, and Maintenance won't answer their goddamn radios." She fanned herself dramatically, letting her blouse gap just enough to show a hint of cleavage—distract, distract—"Do you see this? I'm melting."
The door pushed open another inch, and Ava caught a glimpse of a broad shoulder in a security uniform, a name tag that read "R. Morales." His eyes flicked over her—lingering, just for a second, on the way her blouse clung to her damp skin—before he cleared his throat. "Uh. Right. Yeah, AC's been acting up all week." His voice had lost some of its edge. "Good. He's hesitating." she said to herself.
"Exactly!" She grabbed a random file from her desk and fanned it at her face, letting her skirt ride up another dangerous inch as she shifted her weight. "I was this close to stripping down to my underwear just to get some air." The words slipped out before she could stop them, and her stomach flipped as his gaze definitely dropped to her thighs. Too far. Too far. But then his radio crackled again, and he cursed under his breath.
"Alright, alright," he muttered, already stepping back. "I'll put in a work order. But you gotta leave the blinds open, Doc. Policy."
Ava's relief was so sharp it made her lightheaded. "Deal," she said, already reaching for the cord. "But if I pass out from heatstroke, I'm haunting you in the break room."
The door finally clicked shut, and she sagged against it, her legs nearly giving out. For a long moment, she just stood there, listening to the retreat of his footsteps, the distant hum of the radio fading down the hall. Then—
A sharp knock made her jump.
"Dr. Lawson?" Morales' voice again, but lower this time. Almost… amused. "You, uh. You good in there?"
She froze. No. No, no, no. "Y-yeah! Just—" Her eyes landed on the stapler, still sitting on her desk. "Dropped my—uh—very important medical equipment." She snatched it up and hurled it into a drawer, the clatter obscenely loud. "All good!"
Another pause. Then, "You sure? 'Cause you sound like you're hyperventilating."
"I am hyperventilating, you absolute menace—" she said inwardly, "I'm fine," she ground out, pressing her forehead against the cool wood of the door. "Just—very warm. Like I said."
"Right. Well." His boots scuffed against the linoleum. "Try not to, y'know. Overheat."
The way he said it—slow and all too deliberate—sent a fresh wave of heat flooding through her. Because she knew what he'd heard. The moans, the wet sounds and especially the way she'd whimpered Mateo's name like a prayer. And now he was standing there, fully aware that she was one wrong move away from combusting.
She waited until his footsteps faded entirely before she dared to move. Then, with a shuddering breath, she turned—and nearly screamed.
The blinds were still half-open.
Directly across the hall, a nurse paused mid-step, her brows lifting as she caught Ava's wide-eyed stare. Ava's hands flew to her blouse, fingers fumbling with the buttons again—had it been open this whole time?—before she realized the real problem.
Her desk.
Her fucking desk.
The patient file she'd grabbed as a prop was splayed open, but beneath it, just visible, was the glint of her phone screen—still pulled up to the exact porn clip she'd been watching before Mateo had derailed her entire life. The volume was off, but the frozen image—a close-up of a cock sliding between slick lips—was unmistakable.
The nurse's eyes flicked down.
Ava's blood turned to ice.
Then—mercifully—the woman's pager buzzed. She glanced at it, shrugged, and kept walking, never looking back.
Ava's knees nearly buckled. She lunged for the phone, slamming it face-down, her heart hammering so hard she could barely breathe. The screen went black.
And then, from the hallway, the unmistakable sound of Morales' radio crackling to life again.
"All units, be advised—" A pause. A chuckle. "Dr. Lawson's office is clear. But, uh. Bring a fan."