Emily didn’t mind one bit.
“Thank you,” Emily muttered, but then her mouth went dry and her mind blank. She scrambled for something clever to say, but nothing came. She was terribly grateful when Bette said, “Do you want to get something to drink?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Bette’s lips twitched, showing just the faintest hint of amusement, before she gestured toward the bar. “Shall we?”
Emily nodded, falling into step beside her. It was ridiculous how aware she was of every movement Bette made; the way her suit jacket shifted as she walked, the faint scent of something clean and lavender, and the confidence in the way her shoulders were pulled back as if she was completely at ease in her own skin. Emily, on the other hand, felt all over the place, hyperaware of every inch of space between them.
When Bette’s arm brushed slightly against hers, leaving what could only be described as a hotspot on her skin, a sound slipped from Emily’s throat.
Bette glanced at her. “Something wrong?”
Emily shook her head. “No… Not at all. Everything is perfect.” She really needed that drink. It seemed the accident hadn’t just taken her ability to operate, it had also taken her confidence.
“You sure?” Bette asked, frowning. “You seem a little nervous.”
“I-I’m not nervous,” Emily said, though her voice was cracking and all of a sudden, her brain was thinking about that tan on Bette’s ring finger and if it meant something.
“Good,” Bette said when she reached the bar. She ordered a whiskey and Emily opted for a double gin and tonic, something that could knock out the flutters in her stomach.
“I’m glad you came tonight,” Emily said, her voice unexpectedly quiet. She wasn’t sure why she’d said it—she hadn’t meant to say anything at all—but now that it was out, she couldn’t take it back.
Bette’s eyes met hers. She smiled. “Me too. Even if it was just to see you in that dress.”
The bartender slid their drinks across the counter, but Emily barely noticed them at first. She was far too preoccupied with the bit of side boob sticking out of Bette’s blazer, her pale skin looking silky soft.
“To being forced to attend a hospital gala,” Bette said, lifting up her tumbler. “And suffering through small talk with an overinflated ego. Not you, of course.”
Emily huffed a laugh and picked up her glass, clinking it against Bette’s. She was just about to speak when someone jostled into Bette’s shoulder from behind, sending her stumbling forward into Emily.
It wasn’t a hard knock. It was barely even a knock at all.
But the sudden closeness was like a shock to Emily’s system. Bette’s arm brushed against her waist, the heat of her body pressing up against Emily’s side. It was almost too much.Her brain seemed to register the closeness with a sort of exaggeration, every inch of where they touched was heightened, magnified.
“Sorry about that,” Bette muttered, her voice a little rough. She didn’t immediately pull away, instead her hand lingered on Emily’s waist for a second longer than necessary, fingertips pressing into the fabric of the dress.
“No problem,” Emily mumbled, her cheeks feeling hot and her voice no doubt thick. Whateverthatwas, it had scrambled her brain and left her chest feeling tight in a way that was both dizzying and addictive.
“Do you want to get some air?” Bette asked, glancing at the ballroom. “Away from all…of this?”
The question was so simple, so inviting, Emily’s head moved of its own accord. Before she knew it, she was following Bette through the crowd. The night air hit them as they stepped outside, and the soft rustle of palm trees and the distant hum of the ocean was all that surrounded them.
Bette led them out of the building, onto a manicured path toward a small garden. There were hanging lanterns on the trees, their soft glow flickering against the deep green leaves. It was serene, the island ocean breeze wrapping around them, but Emily barely had time to take it all in when Bette turned to her, brown eyes dark in the dim light, and then, without a single second of hesitation, she cupped Emily’s jaw and pressed their mouths together in a slow, searing kiss that stole the air right out of Emily’s lungs.
Her fingers curled against Bette’s waist, her pulse a frantic drumbeat in her ears. But she didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Not when Bette was kissing her like that. Like she was something to be unraveled, something worth losing control over.
Bette flipped them around so that Emily’s back hit the stone wall and pressed her entire body against her. “We probablyshouldn’t be doing this, Emily,” Bette breathed, sliding a knee in between Emily’s thighs, giving just the right pressure at just the right place. “We work together. You’re my patient.”
“Who gives a flying fuck,” Emily mumbled out of breath, forgetting all about ethics. There was something far more important on her mind, something serious enough that would warrant this whole thing a complete fuck up if it wasn’t addressed.
“You’re not married, are you?” The words were out before Emily could stop them, but at least her brain was working. She quickly tilted her head down to Bette’s hand. “You’ve got a tan on your ring finger.”
Bette lifted up her hand, the same hand that had moments ago slid along Emily’s waist. She studied it for a second and then two before she said, “Divorced. You don’t mind if we don’t speak about that right now?”
“Of course not,” Emily said, hating herself for even bringing it up in the first place. Without waiting for any awkwardness to set in, her mouth was on Bette’s mouth, her fingers dipping under the blazer, reaching smooth skin.
When Bette stuck her tongue into Emily’s mouth, Emily sent her palm up the woman’s stomach, over her ribcage, all the way to her breasts. Bette wasn’t wearing a bra, which meant Emily had no more obstacles to manage. She was just about to palm Bette’s tits, flick her nipples between two fingers. But before she could, Bette gripped her wrist, tangled their fingers together, and with her free hand, pressed the heel of her palm down on the gusset of Emily’s panties, rubbing harder and harder until Emily could feel a million bursts of energy between her thighs.
