A Kiss Is Just a Kiss . . . Right?

A Kiss Is Just a Kiss . . . Right?

"Addison! Wait! C'mon, wait! Addie! Please?"

She storms out of the break room, pretends like she didn't hear him at all as she power walks with each and every harsh, loud step down the corridor and scrapes at the nail bed of her thumb to keep herself from turning around and looking at him and ultimately falling into this dangerous pattern that she has managed to get herself so very lost in.

"Wait, Addison!"

There's sheer desperation creeping into his voice, pleading with her to just turn around and face him.

She can't. She can't anymore.

Well, she shouldn't, to be honest.

Maybe he wants her to press him against the wall again. To cover his mouth with hers, just like she did a few short moments ago. And she's considering it too - kissing him - anything, really, to make him stop saying her name the way that he is, because his voice isn't even remotely registering in her head, it's going straight down to her stomach and further south and she's not liking what she's feeling.

But it's not because she really really enjoyed kissing him.

Oh, it's definitely and certainly not that.

She's married. She can't and shouldn't enjoy anyone else other than her husband.

"Addison."

There's more force behind his voice now, more grit and stance - the A of her name adamant, the S sharp. He's getting bolder.

Damn!

She shouldn't even find it remotely sexy, but, god, she is.

He's determined not to be put off any longer, and she understands, but she cannot do this right now. Not today and absolutely not at the hospital, not when her husband's two stories down and definitely not after the spectacularly unreasonably jealous-filled nonsense she's just had with him.

Maybe not ever.

She's married for Christ's sake.

What the hell is she doing?

She can't just kiss her husband's best friend.

He's forbidden.

"Addie!"

He's raising his voice with no regard for their surroundings. And from the corner of her eyes, she can see doctors and gossip-fuelled nurses roaming about the lane turning to catch the scene they're making.

That's his ploy, she's sure of it; embarrass her by drawing attention to this ridiculous pursuit, to slow her down when she stops to silence him with a glare and a gesture. But no ... No! She won't fall for it, won't fall for him – Whoa! Whoa! Where did that even come from?

She needs help, actually professional help, perhaps therapy or a life coach, because she can't - cannot in any circumstance, fall for Mark Sloan.

Mark freaking Sloan!

It's illegal. It shouldn't be legal to be thinking about Mark in a way that's beyond platonic and ... brotherly?

Picking up her pace again as she beelines for the stairwell, she breathes a relief when escape is finally within reach.

Why is she doing this to Derek?

Oh, he's going to be so so angry when she tells him.