MAD OVER YOU
“Got it.“
Settling down in my chair, I heard a soft knock on the door.
“Come in,“ I responded. The door clicked open as Zagreb, the hospital director, strolled in.
“I heard you left the office rather early last week, Darrel,“ he said, approaching me. When nearly a hair's breadth separated us, Zagreb grazed his fingers along my cheeks. “I hope you weren't sick or anything.“
The feeling of his fingers against my skin made me want to puke. But I sucked it up because he was the hospital director.
Zagreb always did this—found a way to touch me. I understood that he was attracted to me and all that, but this man seriously couldn't take a hint.
“I had a slight headache that day,“ I admitted. It was