Doctor Kim

Chapter 20

During the night, Minji selfishly stole all the covers. I shouldn't have been surprised—Jay did it too. And then I mentally kicked myself for making the comparison. The Kim's were similar, but certainly not the same, and once again, I repeated my mantra. I wouldn't make comparisons between them. It wasn't fair.

Beyond the windows, birds chirped and sang their persistent morning songs. As I stared at Minji's peaceful face resting against her pillow, the blanket twisted over her waist, I couldn't help but think a scary thought. Had she compared me to her past girlfriends?

Was that even what I was?

We hadn't defined this thing between us, and I was more comfortable that way right now. I'd just gotten out of a major relationship—my first love. I shouldn't rebound right into another. Plus, I'd go back to school in another month to start my sophomore year. She was forty years old with a demanding job. We couldn't date, even if she was interested in doing that.

Was she interested?

I sighed loudly and climbed out of the bed, needing to escape my thoughts. I dug into my overnight bag, tugged on a tank top and the boxer shorts I usually slept in, and scurried to the kitchen.

Coffee wasn't something I craved. I was a casual drinker, who preferred the chocolatey, pseudo-coffee drinks you could get at Starbucks. But Minji? She was hardcore. She needed her morning fix of caffeine like air. My gaze landed on the fancy, intimidating machine on the counter beside the stove.

I'd watched her fix her coffee enough times over the years, and I was smart. I could figure this out, couldn't I? I'd make her a mug, return to her bed, and wake her up. The coffee would make sure she had no reason to leave. Neither of us had to work today, and I pictured us staying in bed until lunchtime.

But the machine was evil.

It took me forever to figure out where to put the water in, and once I had, then I had to choose from the six silver buttons on the side with pictures that made no sense. I pulled up Google on my phone and typed in the brand of the coffee maker. There was a YouTube tutorial . . . only it was seventeen fucking minutes long.

"Come on, machine. Help a girl out," I grumbled.

"Good morning."

Minji's voice startled me, and I flinched, nearly dropping the phone. "Oh!" I spun to face her.

She had on a pair of faded blue pants, tied at the waist, and a plain whute shirt. Hospital scrubs were supposed to be baggy and shapeless, but on her? Dear God, those pants were doing things to me.

All she needed was a stethoscope slung over her shoulders. Every dirty doctor fantasy flooded my brain in an instant, pushing out all other thoughts. If I pulled on the drawstring, undoing the knot, how fast could I get her pants down?

She padded on her bare feet toward me beside the machine, oblivious to how affected I was. She glanced at the water gauge, then picked up the pitcher to fill it again. "That's not going to make enough for both of us."

"I don't want any coffee." I was mesmerized by how comfortable and casual she seemed standing this close to me while we were both barely dressed.

Her confusion only lasted a moment. "You were making it for me?"

I stood with my back against the counter and nodded.

Her smile started in her eyes. "I guess I can't be mad at you for leaving my bed, then."

She leaned across me, trapping me in place as she grabbed one of the little cups of coffee grounds, put it in the machine, and pressed a button. The thing whirred to life, but the slow, methodical movements of the womN towering over me already had my body raring to go. She was so close, and rather than move out of my space, she rested her hands on the counter on either side of me and stood only a breath away.

"What should we do," she asked in a low, wicked tone, "while we wait for the coffee to finish brewing?"

I had a million suggestions, every one of them bad—

A deep chime rang out from the front entryway, making my heart skip and Minji freeze. At the sound of her doorbell ringing, her accusatory gaze flew to the clock on the coffee maker. She was probably thinking the same thing I was. Who the hell was at her front door at eight in the morning on a Sunday?

She pulled her phone out, scrolled to an app, and gave an exasperated sigh. I leaned over to peer at the screen. The image was the front porch, and a blonde woman in her late forties or early fifties stood there, trying to peer through the beveled glass of the front door.

Her voice was clipped. "Somi from next door. That woman cannot take a hint."

This was the divorcee who'd been trying to woo Minji with fresh lemonade and baked goods. I gazed at her for another moment. She was nice looking. She had on yoga pants and a sherbet-colored athletic top that was fitted and showed off how she kept herself in shape. Her short hair was styled, she was wearing a little makeup, and everything about her looked as if she were making an effort . . . all to appear effortlessly casual.

When her face turned down in an unflattering scowl, it suddenly made her seem much older.

Breath was tight in my lungs as we watched her on the screen. She shifted on her feet and examined through the dining room window, but unless she could see through walls, we were safe from her prying eyes.

Tension relaxed out of Minji's shoulders when Somi crossed her arms over her chest, pressed her lips together, and finally gave up. As she walked away, relief needled at me. The way Jay had described Ms. Somi, it had given me a very different impression. I'd expected a frumpy older woman. One who was oblivious that Dr. Kim was out of her league.

But was she out of her league?

Somi was pretty and slender. She had a job, owned a house, could order a beer at a bar. I wasn't stupid. I knew it made more sense for her to be with her than me, and suddenly I was grateful she'd brushed her off all those times.

"Did you ever go out with her?" I forced casualness into my words.

She put her phone away in her back pocket. "No."

"Okay." I bit down on the inside of my cheek, not sure why I'd even asked. It wasn't like I had any right to her before we slept together. Today was a different story. I'd spent the night and woken beside her in her bed. I wanted some kind of ownership.

Minji's dark eyes sharpened. "You're looking at me funny."

"Are you, I don't know . . ." I frowned. "We didn't talk about it. Are you seeing other people?"

She cocked her head to the side. "Besides you? No." A warm smile spread across her lips. "You?"

I choked on a laugh. "Um, no." Besides the fact I'd just ended things with her son, couldn't she tell I was too hung up on her? Minji dominated my thoughts, and every minute spent with her only twisted me up further.

"I'm only seeing you, Hanni." She gripped my face in her hands, brushing her thumb over my cheekbone as she slowly lowered her mouth toward mine. "In fact, I'd like to see a lot more of you right now."

Her lips were fire, but they were the slow, smoldering kind. Her mouth was soft against mine, and my knees weakened as her tongue dipped past my lips. One of her hands smoothed down my neck, glided over my collarbone, and moved down further until her fingers inched beneath the neckline of my tank top.

My nipples snapped to points, tingling and eager for her attention. The strap was pushed over the curve of my shoulder and peeled down. I sighed and stretched into her touch, enjoying how her lips progressed down my neck, working toward her fingers massaging my breast.

A moan seeped from me, barely audible over the bubbling coffee machine, as she skimmed the sharp edge of her teeth across my pebbled nipple. Christ, that felt good. I wrapped my arms around her head, holding her to me, encouraging her to feast on my exposed flesh.

But a tingling, uncomfortable sensation flashed across the hairs on my arms and rocketed up my back. It was a warning of danger that my body sensed before the rest of me. A shadow fell on us, coming through the window over the sink, and drew her attention before mine.

She hardened into stone, and I glanced over my bare shoulder to see what she was looking at.

Oh. Shit.