Open Heart One Shots (Choices)

Sinful Fantasies (Light NSFW)

Summary: Cassie has inappropriate thoughts about her boss.

The hallways of Boston's Edenbrook Hospital were never quiet, certainly not near the end of a shift. Tired residents shuffled on leaden feet, eager to sign out and hand over their patients to the night team so they could go home and crash. Others just wanted to unwind with a beer and a game of pool at Donahue's—an airlock between work and home.

Cassie Valentine, a first-year resident, was doing a third thing: waiting for her attending to finish reviewing the patient chart and dismiss her for the day.

She should've been focused on work, but her mind—and her eyes—were squarely locked on her attending's hands.

She'd never really noticed a man's hands before. But for some reason—either from exhaustion or hormones, given where she was in her cycle—she was fascinated by Dr. Ethan Ramsey's.

Long fingers with short, clipped nails. An elegant wrist with light hair peeking out from under the cuff of his dress shirt and white coat. She liked that he wasn't too hairy; at least, from what she'd seen when he took off his shirt for the fMRI scan a few weeks ago.

As his fingers, holding the pen, trailed down the patient chart he was reviewing, her tired mind drifted to that secret place in her head where her most inappropriate thoughts lived. Lately, they'd all been about this handsome yet austere man who had captured her attention from day one.

Instead of the chart, she imagined Ethan (she couldn't very well call him Dr. Ramsey in her sexual fantasies, could she?) stroking the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, leaving trails of tingling nerve endings in their wake.

The soft lighting cast everything in shadows—black and white, like a scene from a noir film. Mysterious, with a hint of danger. Their love was forbidden, existing only in the hedge maze of her mind, where their status wasn't an obstacle.

In this world, her body was drenched in want, hips lifting off tangled bedsheets, silently begging him closer. But he resisted her wordless pleas, a low chuckle escaping as a wicked grin tugged at his lips—those hands of his continuing their slow torment, setting her body ablaze.

He was a paradox—aloof and serious in public, but in private, when it was just the two of them, he embodied every wicked fantasy her imaginative mind could conjure.

She longed for their trysts the way a wandering nomad longs for water in the desert, recalling things they never did.

Messy kisses under neon lights. Lingering touches that haunted her dreams. And the way he worshipped her body was practically religious. No one before or since had ever cracked the locks surrounding her heart the way he did.

He reached for the pen, uncapping it with his teeth, then held it above her, one brow raised in silent question. In that moment, Cassie would've given him anything he asked for.

Her nails raked down his biceps, gripping tight—desperate—as her lips parted, panting with every touch. In her mind, she watched as he traced the letters along the inside of her thigh...

Mine.

The loud clearing of Dr. Ramsey's throat was as effective as a bucket of cold water. Whatever would've happened next in her fantasy would forever remain a mystery.

A pink blush crept up her cheeks as Cassie glanced up at the man who had just played the starring role in her not-safe-for-work thoughts. Her breathing was labored now for an entirely different reason—one she prayed he wouldn't comment on.

He looked at her expectantly, and she flushed even deeper as she realized she hadn't heard a single word he'd said. Her mind scrambled for an appropriate response but came up blank.

"Never mind," Dr. Ramsey muttered, clearly annoyed by her inattention. "Just make sure the nursing staff is updated on the patient's latest numbers before you sign out."

Cassie exhaled in relief, watching his white coat snap behind him as he strode down the hallway. If it hadn't been so late—and if he weren't distracted by Naveen's case—that could've gone a lot worse.

Locking away her longings in the vault of her mind, she turned and walked off, deliberately taking the long way to the residents' locker room. She wasn't ready to face anyone, not until the sinful fantasies in her head had faded completely.

She walked on, the echo of her footsteps the only sound—until the next shift, the next chart, the next stolen glance she'd try not to want as much as she did.