Work Text:
The moment Samira stepped out of the ER’s sliding doors, the cold slapped her in the face. Snowflakes drifted from the dark sky, swirling under the streetlights. Her sneakers crunched through the fresh layer of snow as she tugged her puffy coat tighter. The short walk to the lot already felt longer than usual, her curls damp with melting snow.
She had been looking forward to a hot shower, curling up in her apartment with a journal article she’d flagged earlier, and maybe a mug of tea.
Halfway across the lot, footsteps fell in behind her.
“Hey.”
She didn’t need to turn to know the voice.
Jack.
He wasn’t supposed to be on days today. He had always worked the night shift. She almost hadn’t believed it when she saw his name on the board until she spotted him later, a coffee in hand, his eyes ringed with exhaustion.
Now he was beside her, his boots crunching in sync with hers, his coat zipped, and his go-bag slung over his shoulder.
“Hey,” she echoed.
His brow tugged faintly. “You walking to the bus?”
“I was.” She glanced at her phone, checking the app again only for a red banner to flash across the screen. Her breath left in a muttered curse.
“What’s wrong?”
“Buses are canceled.” The disappointment hit sharper than she expected. She stuffed her phone back in her pocket. “Guess I’ll head back inside.”
“I’ll drive you,” Jack said easily.
She hesitated. Not because she didn’t want to. She did, but because she felt guilty, like she was imposing. Still, it was freezing, and the idea of sitting alone in the lounge for hours didn’t sound appealing.
“You sure?”
“Positive.” He was already angling toward his car.
She followed, grateful. “Thanks.”
“No need,” he said lightly, but she thought she caught the tiniest hint of a smile, and her stomach did a small, unexpected flip.
His car idled in the lot, headlights dim through the snowfall. The windshield glowed faintly with fog, the heater humming inside.
Samira slid into the passenger seat, warmth washing over her in a rush. She held her hands in front of the vent until they prickled with the sting of thaw, a sigh escaping before she could stop it.
Jack glanced over, one brow lifting as if he’d noticed. Then he shifted into gear, guiding them out of the lot. Tires crunched steadily over snowpack, the world ahead blurred and soft. Streetlights glowed like halos, while the snow shimmered in the headlights, floating gently through the air.
Samira risked a glance at him. His profile was all sharp lines in the glow from the dash. He looked tired. He always did. But it didn’t detract. If anything, it suited him. It gave him a kind of gravity she couldn’t look away from.
She cleared her throat, trying to steady the quickening of her pulse. “I was surprised to see you on days today.”
“Got asked to cover last minute,” he said, his eyes fixed on the road.
She rubbed her palms together in front of the vent. “Must’ve felt strange. The hospital’s different in the daylight.”
The corner of his mouth tugged faintly. “Just louder and more crowded.”
She smiled despite herself. “True.”
Then his voice cut in, low but casual, “I found an article I thought might help with your case study.”
Samira blinked. “What case study?”
“The one on racial disparities in the ER. You mentioned it a couple weeks ago.”
She turned toward him, caught off guard. “You remembered?”
His gaze never left the road, but she caught the brief flicker of his glance. “You think I don’t pay attention?”
Her chest tightened, warmth blooming beneath her ribs. Most days she felt like background noise, easy to tune out. She wasn’t used to someone not just listening but remembering.
She turned back toward the window. “What kind of article?”
“Recent review,” he said. “Some data on outcomes. I flagged a few things and made some notes.”
Of course he had.
She bit back the urge to ask if he’d actually annotated it. If he’d stayed up with it the way she did with her own stack of PDFs. She could picture him sitting up late, glasses sliding down his nose, muttering to himself while he scribbled notes in the margins.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she murmured.
“I know.” His hands tightened briefly on the wheel, the leather creaking. “Didn’t mean I didn’t want to.”
Samira’s breath caught. She tried to focus on the windshield, the way the snowflakes streaked and dissolved against the glass, but all she could think about was him remembering and caring enough to follow up.
The snow thickened, heavy flakes swirling sideways across the windshield. The wipers squeaked in uneven swipes, struggling to keep up. Jack leaned forward slightly, one hand steady on the wheel, the other braced against the dash as though he could will the road clearer.
“It’s really coming down,” she murmured, hugging her coat closer.
“Yeah.” His voice rumbled under the hum of the heater. “Roads are going to get slick fast.”
Then the tires jolted, a rough scrape vibrating under her feet as the car pulled sharply to the side. Jack swore under his breath.
Samira’s spine went rigid, her hands gripping the edge of her seat. “What was that?”
“We’re sliding,” Jack muttered, his eyes narrowing as he steered into the drift. The car fishtailed, skidding sideways before the tires finally caught. He eased it onto the shoulder, the crunch of snow under them louder than it should have been.
The car lurched to a stop at an angle. Jack tried reversing, then forward again, but the tires only spun, throwing up snow and rocking uselessly.
“Shit.” His curse was low and clipped. His hand flexed on the gearshift before he exhaled through his nose.
Samira’s stomach dipped. The heater still blew, but a cold prickle threaded up her back. She glanced at him, his shoulders rigid and his gaze fixed on the dark beyond the headlights.
“We’re stuck, aren’t we?” she asked quietly.
He didn’t answer right away, already pulling out his phone. “Looks like it.” His voice stayed calm. “I’ll call AAA.”
She sat still, listening as he gave their location. His tone was patient in a way she envied. He read off the mile marker, the road name, and a quick assurance they weren’t blocking traffic. He glanced at her briefly, checking, before adding, “We’ve got heat. We’re fine.”
When he finally ended the call, he dropped the phone onto his thigh and leaned back, exhaling hard. “They’re slammed. Could be three hours.”
Samira sank against her seat, her breath fogging faintly. “Three hours,” she echoed. Her voice came out thinner than she meant.
“Sorry,” Jack said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I know you just wanted to get home.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Still. If I’d taken another route…”
“You couldn’t have known.”
The heater sputtered, then coughed weakly back to life, blowing lukewarm air that barely reached her hands. Jack leaned forward, checking the dash. His brow furrowed.
“The battery’s starting to drop,” he said quietly. “If we keep the heat running, we’ll drain it before they get here.”
Samira’s stomach sank. “So… we just turn it off?”
He tapped the wheel, thinking. Then turned to her. “Unfortunately. We’ll be warmer in the back. It’ll be easier to huddle close.”
Her pulse kicked, too quick. But the cold seeping through the vents made the decision for her.
“Okay,” she murmured.
Jack killed the engine, and silence pressed in heavy. The wind rattled against the car as they slipped between the seats. The crack of the door let in a rush of brutal air that sliced straight through her scrubs.
“God, it’s freezing,” Samira muttered, her teeth knocking together. She curled her knees to her chest, trying to make herself smaller against the cold.
Jack reached for the blanket, his movements brisk, but his voice softened when he spoke. “Come here.”
Samira froze, her arms cinched tight around her shins. “What?”
“Body heat,” he said simply. “Coat off. Scrub top too, if you can. Damp layers just trap cold. Skin to skin works better.”
Her brain sputtered like the dying heater. She knew he was right. It was textbook hypothermia protocol, but that didn’t stop the flush from climbing her neck.
Jack was already stripping down, his coat first, then his hoodie, then tugging his black t-shirt over his head. Goosebumps raced across his skin as he sat back in just his cargo pants, the muscles in his shoulders shifting under pale light from the streetlights.
Samira’s fingers fumbled at her zipper. She peeled off her coat, then her scrub top, until only a thin long-sleeve clung chilled to her arms. She hesitated, hugging herself tight before forcing it over her head too.
Cold air rushed in, raising goosebumps everywhere. She folded her arms across her chest, more for modesty than warmth.
When she glanced up, Jack’s gaze dipped. Just for a heartbeat before he jerked it away, his cheeks flushing.
“Um.” He rubbed the back of his neck with the hand not holding the blanket. “Why don’t you… sit in my lap. It’ll trap heat faster.”
Samira’s breath caught, her body going rigid. But her arms were already trembling, her skin pebbling with cold. Logic won. Barely.
She moved toward him carefully, her heart pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it. Straddling him gingerly, she tried not to think about what it looked like.
Jack drew the blanket up and around them in one smooth motion, cocooning them together. The moment their bare skin touched, she jolted.
He was warm. Unfairly so, like his body held a furnace.
His hands settled low at her back. “This okay?” His voice was low, a little rougher than usual.
Her throat tightened. She managed a nod. “Yeah,” she whispered.
Her palms hovered before finally resting on his shoulders. He was solid beneath her touch, broader than she ever let herself notice at work. Their foreheads nearly brushed, close enough that she felt the whisper of his breath.
It should’ve felt strange. It didn’t, though. It felt… right. Terrifyingly right.
Samira closed her eyes, pulling in a shaky breath. She was in her head too much about Jack, about herself, and about everything. The hush of the storm pressing in only left more room for thoughts.
“Wish you’d done your residency somewhere warm?” Jack’s voice broke the quiet. “Florida. Hawaii. Somewhere you don’t risk hypothermia just trying to get home.”
A laugh slipped out of her before she could stop it. “That does sound a lot more appealing. I’d kill to be on a beach right now.”
The corner of his mouth tugged faintly. “Yeah. I like the beach. Not for long, though.”
She tilted her head, curious despite herself. “Why not?”
“I burn easy,” he said, with a small huff that might’ve been a laugh. “Irish genes. Give me ten minutes without sunscreen, and I’m lobster-red.”
Her gaze dipped before she could stop it, down to the freckles scattered across his shoulders and forearms, little constellations mapped on his skin. Of course he burned. He carried the proof of it everywhere. She had to drag her gaze back up before he noticed.
Jack shifted slightly under the blanket, the solid heat of him pressing closer to her side. “Hope you didn’t have big plans tonight,” he murmured.
Samira let out a dry laugh. “I never do.”
His brow lifted. “Never?”
“Not really.” She tried to be casual, but her voice sounded too raw. “I don’t actually know what to do with myself when I’m not at the hospital.”
Jack’s gaze lingered, cutting through the little shields she usually threw up.
She blew out a breath, trying to shrug it off. “I mean, sure, I sleep. Kind of. I crash, wake up, and repeat. That’s not the same as decompressing. I don't have hobbies. I don’t go out. My big Saturday night is folding laundry and maybe watching half an episode of something before I pass out.”
That earned a quiet chuckle from him. The sound vibrated through her chest, their closeness making it impossible not to feel. “You’re really selling the glamorous resident lifestyle.”
Her lips curved despite herself. “It’s true, though. All my friends are at the hospital. I’ve tried dating a little, but…” She hesitated, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. It felt like too much to admit, too personal. Still, the words slipped free. “Most guys don’t think it’s cute when you show up after a twelve-hour shift. Or when you tell them you’re a doctor. Some even said it made them insecure.”
“Idiots,” Jack said immediately, sharp enough to make her blink.
Her head tilted toward him, catching the way his jaw tightened. The answer had come too fast to be casual.
She felt warmth creep into her cheeks. “What about you, then? What do you do when you’re not working?”
“Mostly? Sit at home. Listen to my police scanner. Sometimes read. Sometimes write a little. That’s about it.”
That made her blink. “Write?”
His hand dragged across his jaw, like he already regretted saying it. “Don’t get excited. It’s nothing good. Just… things I don’t feel like saying out loud.”
She wanted to ask what he wrote about. His wife, maybe, or the things he’d seen on shift, but she bit the question back.
“Guess we’re both terrible at this whole living-outside-of-work thing,” she said finally, her voice softer.
“Guess so.” His reply matched hers in tone, though this time he didn’t look away. After a beat, he added, almost under his breath, “It’s easier to stay busy than to be alone.”
The words settled heavy between them, but not in a bad way. More like the kind of truth you don’t hear often enough.
Samira shifted, and her heartbeat stuttered. Ridiculous. She was a grown woman. She’d kissed men before, and she’d been on dates. But this felt different.
“You really think it’s easier?” she asked quietly.
He gave a small shrug. “Busyness keeps things predictable. No surprises. No… space for the hard stuff to sneak in.” He said it like it was something he’d learned to live with rather than something he wanted.
She found herself wondering what counted as the “hard stuff.” She already knew the broad strokes, the whispers around the hospital about his wife, but she never asked. Still, in this small bubble of storm and silence, she wanted to. She wanted more than the rumors, more than the guarded half-smiles he gave in the hallways. She wanted to know what kept him up at night and what he reached for when the memories pressed too close.
Her fingers flexed lightly against his shoulder before she realized what she was doing. She shouldn’t. This was Jack. He’s an attending. But also the man who’d given her a ride without hesitation, who’d pulled her close under a blanket, who’d called other men idiots for not seeing her worth.
His gaze caught hers and held.
Before she could think too hard about it, his hand lifted. He brushed a curl from her forehead, tucking it back behind her ear. His fingers grazed her temple, light as air, but it was enough to make her breath shudder.
Jack’s hand lingered, just for a second, like he wasn’t sure he should’ve done it. His throat worked. “Sorry,” he muttered, his voice rough.
“Don’t be,” she whispered.
Her own voice startled her. It gave too much away.
She was suddenly very aware of every point where their bodies touched, of how close their mouths already were if she just leaned forward an inch.
Jack’s gaze drifted down again, this time, unmistakably, to her lips.
Samira no longer felt chilled. If anything, she was burning. Heat crept up her neck, pooled low in her belly, and spread through her veins until she could hardly breathe.
Jack’s arms stayed braced around her, holding her close but not too close, like he was terrified of crossing a line. She could feel the restraint vibrating off him.
“We shouldn’t…” His voice was rough.
Her chest ached at the sound. “I know.” She did. But knowing didn’t quiet the want clawing through her.
She thought of every reason to stop. They worked together. This was complicated, messy, and wrong in so many ways. But she was tired, so tired of long nights ending in an empty bed, tired of swallowing every glance at him like a guilty secret.
Before she could lose her nerve, Samira leaned in and kissed him.
It was clumsy, her heart pounding so hard she almost missed the sharp hitch of his breath. Then his hand came up, cupping her cheek, and she melted into it. His palm was warm against her chilled skin.
He kissed her back like a man who had been holding his breath for months.
When he eased back a fraction, his forehead rested against hers. “Samira,” he breathed. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Her eyes fluttered shut. “Me too,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging like letting go would undo it all. His hands slipped beneath the blanket, rough fingertips grazing the bare skin at her waist. His lips brushed hers again, softer this time, like he couldn’t stop himself. One kiss became two, then three, each deepening until she was leaning into every stroke of his mouth, chasing him.
“We’re going to make a mess of this,” Jack murmured against her skin.
“Maybe,” she answered. “But it doesn’t feel wrong.”
A low sound escaped him as his restraint splintered. Her hands slid into his curls, tugging lightly at the nape of his neck. The way he shivered at her touch made her bolder. She pressed closer in his lap, the blanket slipping away until his heat consumed her.
He tore his mouth from hers, his voice hoarse. “You’re freezing.”
“Not anymore,” she whispered, breathless. And it was true. The warmth rolling through her was nothing a blanket could ever give.
His gaze caught hers. “Tell me to stop.”
She couldn’t. She kissed him again, deeper, pouring her answer into him.
The shift of her body in his lap dragged a sharp inhale from him. His hands tightened at her waist, betraying just how hard he was holding back.
“Samira…” Her name was a growl in his chest.
She pulled back enough to see him clearly. His lips were kiss-swollen, and his eyes were darker than she’d ever seen. “You don’t want this?”
“That’s not the problem.” His hand slid up her spine, his fingers spreading wide between her shoulder blades. “I’ve wanted this for too long.”
“Then stop fighting it.”
Then his mouth crashed back to hers, urgent now, all restraint fraying. The blanket shifted around them as his hands roamed, tracing the line of her ribs, skimming the dip of her waist.
Her body pressed closer on instinct, a soft whimper breaking free before she could swallow it down. Jack froze, pulling back just enough to search her face. “Tell me what you want.”
Her cheeks warmed, but her voice didn’t waver. “You. Don’t stop.”
“Sweetheart…” The word was low and dragged out of him. “You’ve gotta tell me, do you want this?”
She nodded quickly, but he caught her chin, gently lifting her eyes to his.
“Say it,” he murmured.
Her throat went dry, but the need surging through her drowned out hesitation. “Yes. I want this. I want you.”
The sound he made was almost a groan, his mouth crashing back to hers, hungrier. His hand slid lower, skimming her thigh, then teasing the edge of her waistband.
Her pulse thundered. She broke the kiss on a shaky breath. “Jack…”
His lips brushed her jaw, then her throat. “I’ll stop if you want me to. But if you don’t…” His fingers tugged lightly at her drawstring. “I’ll take care of you.”
Her answer came as a whisper. “Don’t stop.”
His groan reverberated against her skin, low and hungry. With deliberate care, his hand slipped beneath the loose fabric, calloused fingertips brushing the thin cotton of her underwear. She jolted, breath catching in her throat.
“Christ,” he muttered, kissing the corner of her mouth. “You’re shaking already.”
The faint glide of his fingers over her damp heat made her hips jerk, her breath splintering against his shoulder.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped.
“It’s not,” she whispered.
Her nails dug into his shoulders as his thumb pressed more firmly, slow circles pulling fractured sounds from her lips.
“Feels good?” He asked, his voice low.
“Yes…” Her head tilted back, throat bared, her voice a thread of sound.
He kissed the column of her neck, his hand steady and unrelenting. “You’re soaked,” he murmured against her skin. “Bet you’d come undone even faster if I slid inside.”
Her hips bucked helplessly at the words, another strangled noise escaping.
Jack stilled, his gaze locking with hers. “Do you want that?” he asked, rough. “Want me inside you?”
Her pulse thundered. She should say no. She should push him away before the line blurred completely. But her body betrayed her, grinding into the heel of his hand.
“Yes,” she breathed, trembling. “Please.”
Carefully, he slipped beneath her underwear, his touch achingly gentle.
When two fingers slid into her, slow and deep, she gasped, her forehead falling against his. Their breaths tangled, shallow and uneven.
She clung to him as he curled his fingers just right, sparks shooting down her spine. She wasn’t sure how they’d gotten here, how a snowstorm had unraveled everything she’d been holding tight. But now, straddling his lap, with Jack’s hand coaxing her open, nothing else mattered.
This was release. Not collapsing after a twelve-hour shift. Not doomscrolling into numbness. Not folding laundry on a Saturday night. This was what it felt like to be seen, to finally let go. And God, she could get used to it.
A breathless laugh escaped her, half-delirious. Jack stilled, confusion spreading across his face even as his thumb kept circling. “What?” he asked.
Her lips brushed his ear. “Way better than laundry night.”
The corner of his mouth curved, a low laugh vibrating through his chest. “Good,” he drawled, curling his fingers until she shuddered around him.
“Jack…” Her voice cracked, a plea more than a word.
His free hand slid up her spine, urging her closer until she was molded against him. She trembled in his arms, but it wasn’t from the cold anymore.
“You feel incredible,” he whispered into her curls, his voice ragged. “Gripping me like you never want to let go.”
Her body tightened at the words, drawing him deeper. A whimper tore from her when his thumb found her clit again, each stroke narrowing the world to just him.
She wanted to tell him how long she’d wanted this, how no one had ever touched her like she mattered. But the words tangled in her throat, lost in the storm of sensation.
“Lay back for me,” Jack murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth, a stark contrast to the urgency of his hand.
For a heartbeat she hesitated, painfully aware of the cramped space. Then she let her body sink into the backseat, surrendering to him.
The blanket slipped from her shoulders as her hips lifted instinctively. Jack eased her scrubs and underwear down, his prosthetic braced against the seat edge while his chest pressed between her thighs, closing the last inch of distance.
His mouth blazed a path along her inner thighs, heat against chilled skin that made her shiver. “Can’t believe I finally get to taste you,” he rasped, the confession rougher than she expected.
When his tongue slid through her folds, her breath caught, her back bowing as her fingers tangled in his curls.
“Fuck…” Jack groaned, the sound vibrating against her. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
The words made her flush hotter than his mouth. She was half afraid he’d realize how easily praise unspooled her, how little resistance she had when it came to him.
His rhythm was deliberate. Long, savoring strokes punctuated with sharper pressure that made her toes curl. One big hand pinned her hips, the other sliding inside, curling deep like he already knew the map of her body.
Samira tried to smother her moans with her hand, but the fogged windows, the cramped car, and the relentless heat of his mouth made it impossible. Every sound spilled out, raw and needy.
“That’s it,” he breathed against her, hoarse. “Just like that. Perfect for me.”
Her thighs trembled on his shoulders as she rocked helplessly, chasing the rhythm he set. Her heels dug into the seat, tilting her hips for more, desperate for every drop of pleasure he offered.
“You’re stunning like this,” Jack murmured between strokes, his eyes lifting to catch hers. “Falling apart for me.”
She bit down on his name like a secret. “Jack…” Her voice shook. “I’m gonna…”
“Yes,” he urged, curling his fingers exactly where she needed. His lips brushed her thigh. “Don’t hold back. Let go for me.”
That undid her. The orgasm tore through her, sharp and consuming. She cried out his name, her body clenching hard around his fingers.
Jack stayed with her, his mouth softening into kisses along her thigh while she shook through it. “That’s it, beautiful… I’ve got you.”
No one had ever touched her like this, like she was something to be savored, not rushed. Most men had been impatient, more interested in their own release than hers. But Jack made every gasp feel important, like she was something he’d been waiting on.
When she finally slumped back, trembling with aftershocks, he pressed one last kiss to the inside of her knee. Lifting his head, his curls were mussed, his mouth slick, and his expression wrecked with want.
Samira’s chest heaved, her body still buzzing. Her fingers twitched with the need to touch him, to pull him back up where she could taste him.
“Come here,” she whispered, raw and breathless. “I… I need you.”
Jack was on her in an instant, bracketing her with his body as his mouth found hers. Slow at first, coaxing, then hungrier, stealing her breath. She tasted herself on him, and the intimacy of it made her head swim.
She climbed into his lap, straddling him, and his hardness pressed hot and insistent against her.
“Christ,” he groaned, one hand gripping her hip. “I can’t get enough of you.” His forehead rested against hers, his voice wrecked with restraint.
Then he froze, his eyes squeezing shut. “Shit. I don’t have a condom.”
Heat rose to her face. “I… I have one.”
His eyes snapped open, surprised. “You do?”
“I started carrying some.” She gave a small, nervous shrug. “Just in case.” Her voice steadied despite the nerves buzzing in her chest. “Tonight’s the in-case night, apparently.”
Jack exhaled hard, his forehead tipping back against hers, this time with a quiet laugh. “You’re full of surprises, sweetheart.”
She slid off his lap to rummage through her bag. Her fingers shook as she pulled out her wallet and the small foil packet tucked inside, bought on a practical whim months ago, sealed and unused.
The silence broke with the faint rustle of fabric as Jack shoved his pants down, boxers with them. His hand trembled where it rested against her hip. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, his eyes locked on hers like the answer mattered more than air.
Samira didn’t hesitate. “I’ve never been more sure. I want you.”
The sound he made was almost a groan of relief. He tore the foil carefully and rolled the condom down over himself with practiced hands.
“Ready?” he murmured, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone. “I’ll check in. I need to know you’re okay.”
“I’m ready.” Her lips curved, soft and daring all at once. “But don’t go easy on me.”
His mouth brushed her nose. “Sweetheart… no promises. But I’ll stop the second you want me to.”
She laughed, breathless. “I won’t.”
He guided her down slowly. Her gasp split the air at the first stretch of him, the fullness making her shudder. Her body fluttered around him as she adjusted, sinking until there was no space left between them.
Jack’s hands stayed firm on her hips, his thumbs stroking into her skin like he couldn’t stop touching her. His breath caught. “Fuck… the way you take me. Like you were made for this… for me.”
Her hands clutched his shoulders, every shift of him inside her pressing something deeper than lust against her chest.
Then he caught her face in his palm, guiding her gaze back to his. Whiskey-colored eyes burned into hers. “Look at me,” he rasped. “Don’t hide.”
Her instinct was to drop her gaze, to retreat the way she always did when things felt too close. But he wouldn’t let her, and for once, she didn’t want to. She wanted to be seen.
“I’ve thought about this so many damn times,” Jack confessed, his voice cracking with need. “Dreamed about you riding me… and it’s still not enough. You’re still more than I ever let myself imagine.”
Heat swelled in her chest. Me too, she thought, but instead she kissed him, pouring everything into it.
Every roll of her hips pulled a ragged sound from his throat.
“That’s it,” he groaned, steadying her rhythm. “Slow. Let me feel every inch of you.” His lips trailed her throat, his teeth grazing under her ear. “Sweetheart, you’re undoing me.”
Her back arched, body straining for more as his thumb found her clit, circling with slow, devastating precision. A whimper broke loose before she could bite it back.
“Jack…” she breathed, trembling.
“Don’t hold it in,” he urged, rough and coaxing. “I want it all… every sound, every shiver. Give it to me.”
The pressure coiled tight and unbearable, but it wasn’t just her body breaking open. It was weeks of exhaustion and years of never being enough, all fracturing under his touch. For once, she wasn’t holding it together.
“Come on, baby,” Jack whispered in her ear, desperate. “Fall apart for me.”
Her body obeyed. The wave crashed hard, her cry spilling free as she clamped around him, shuddering with the force of it.
Jack held her steady, murmuring ragged praises into her curls until the tremors ebbed. Then he groaned, grinding up into her, chasing his own release. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, thrusts turning erratic until he spilled inside the condom, a broken moan tearing from his throat.
They stayed tangled, lungs heaving. Samira rested her cheek against his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns over his skin. “God… that was…”
“Yeah,” Jack muttered huskily, brushing a curl from her face. His eyes softened. “You wreck me, you know that? In the best way.”
Her laugh came out shaky, tension dissolving. “Snowstorm decompression,” she teased.
He chuckled into her curls, his hand sketching lazy circles on her back. “Best damn method I’ve ever tried.”
Samira closed her eyes, sinking into him. Maybe this was exactly what they both needed.
Sweat cooled between them, their breaths still uneven. Jack’s hand found her cheek. “You cold?” he asked.
Samira blinked up at him, her heart still hammering. “A little,” she admitted, though the warmth of his touch almost made the chill irrelevant.
Without a word, he reached back and tugged the blanket over them, draping it across her shoulders. His palms lingered as he smoothed it down her back, like he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching her.
Her fingers traced the line of his stubbled jaw, still damp with sweat.
She drew in a shaky breath. “We… should probably clean up a little.”
Jack gave a crooked smile and leaned over just far enough to rummage in the console. “Always prepared,” he muttered, flashing the crumpled pack of tissues like it was some kind of prize. He reached for the condom, slipping it off carefully before knotting it and wrapping it in a tissue.
“Here,” he said softly, offering her one before taking one for himself. Their fingers brushed, a tiny spark racing up her arm. She bit her lip, trying not to smile at how ridiculous and intimate it all was.
She tilted her head up, catching his gaze. His eyes were softer now, warm and unreadable, like he was holding something back.
“I wasn’t expecting… any of this,” she whispered.
“Neither was I.” His voice was low, then he shook his head, a rough laugh slipping out. “Hell, I told myself a hundred times not to want this. Not to want you. Tried to convince myself it was just… me looking too hard, reading too much into things. But then you’d laugh, or you’d look at me across the damn trauma bay, and I’d…” He broke off, dragging a hand through his curls. “Christ, I didn’t stand a chance.”
Her throat tightened. “I kept telling myself I was imagining it. The way you’d look at me, or how you’d always find a way to get me through the worst shifts.”
Jack’s thumb brushed her cheek. His mouth pulled into a faint smile. “You weren’t imagining it. I… hell, Samira, I’ve wanted you for a long time. Longer than I probably should have. I didn’t want to screw this up. Didn’t want to make things harder for you. You mean too damn much to me. And if I said it out loud, I figured I’d…” He huffed a humorless laugh, words tumbling out faster now, “…manage to chase you off, or worse, make you look at me like I’d ruined everything.”
“God, we’re idiots,” she breathed, laughter catching in her throat.
“Complete idiots,” he agreed immediately, pressing his forehead against hers like he couldn’t stand the distance. “But I don’t care. I’ll be an idiot if it means I get to have this. You. Us.”
Her laugh softened into a sigh as she cupped his jaw. “I want you too, Jack. Not just tonight.”
“Then you’ve got me,” he whispered, so quiet it hurt. “For as long as you’ll have me. I’m yours, Samira. Every damn part of me.”
This was what safety felt like. Not four walls, not silence, not numbing herself until she collapsed. Him.
A shaky laugh escaped. “I can’t believe our first real conversation about feelings happened while we’re naked in the back of your car.”
Jack chuckled into her curls, his chest rumbling against her. “Could’ve been worse. At least we didn’t end up stranded on the highway. Or the hospital parking lot. Imagine Shen walking by.”
Samira snorted, burrowing closer under the blanket.
They stayed like that until his phone buzzed. Jack groaned, fishing it from his pants without letting her go completely. He glanced at the screen. “Good news, the tow truck says twenty minutes out.”
Samira wrinkled her nose. “So… we put clothes back on and pretend we didn’t just…”
“Absolutely not pretending,” Jack cut in, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Not a chance I’m forgetting any of this.”
Her cheeks warmed as she slid off his lap, the cold immediately biting her bare skin. She fumbled with her bra while Jack tugged his boxers and cargo pants back on. The ridiculousness of it all hit her. The fogged windows, clothes strewn across the cramped backseat, and the storm swallowing the world outside. She let out a laugh she couldn’t hold back.
Jack, halfway through pulling his shirt over his head, paused. “What?”
“Just…” She gestured at the chaos. “This is insane. We’re insane.”
His smile softened. “Maybe. But I’ll take insane with you over sane with anyone else.”
That stupid, tender line made her chest ache in the best way.
They wrestled into coats in the cramped space, bumping elbows and shoulders. When his arm clipped her side, she swatted him lightly. He only smirked, leaning close enough to murmur, “Sorry, sweetheart,” before zipping his jacket.
Headlights finally cut through the snow, harsh and yellow against the whiteout.
“That’s them,” Jack murmured.
He caught her hand automatically and gave it a quick squeeze before pushing the door open. Cold air rushed in, startling against her flushed skin. Samira followed, her limbs stiff from the chill and nerves fluttering now that their little bubble was breaking.
The tow truck rumbled to a stop ahead, amber lights flashing. A bundled figure trudged toward them.
“Back tire’s jammed,” Jack explained.
“Yeah, roads are brutal tonight,” the man said. His eyes flicked between them. “You folks alright?”
Jack glanced at Samira before answering. “Yeah. We’re good.”
The word sank deep into her chest. Good. It didn’t begin to cover it, but she clung to it anyway.
While the man bent to check the car, Samira slipped back into the passenger seat. Through the windshield, she watched Jack move through the snow, flakes catching in his curls, and breath fogging the night air. He kept glancing back at her like he wasn’t ready to let go either.
Fifteen minutes later, the car jolted free with a loud thunk that made her laugh in relief.
Jack stamped snow from his boots and slid back in, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “We’re good to go.” That crooked grin appeared again, the one that made her chest feel too tight. “Ready to head home?”
Samira nodded, though every part of her wanted the night to last just a little longer.
The tires crunched as they eased back onto the road. The snow had softened, no longer blinding, just drifting in slow spirals that caught the glow of the streetlights. Jack’s hand rested on the gearshift. Without thinking, hers drifted over, her fingertips brushing the back of his knuckles.
When they pulled up in front of her apartment, Jack shifted into park but didn’t cut the engine.
Samira turned toward him, searching his profile. “Do you want to come up?”
“I do,” he said quietly. “But only if you want me to.”
Her lips curved. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
They stepped out into the hush of falling snow together, and she felt the first wave of true relief only when her apartment door closed behind them. The muffled quiet wrapped around her, warm and familiar, though it felt strangely new with Jack standing in her entryway.
She kicked off her damp sneakers, toeing them toward the wall before peeling her coat from her shoulders. Her skin prickled at the shift from winter chill to apartment warmth. Behind her, Jack unzipped his own coat and hung it beside hers, hesitating like he wasn’t sure if stepping farther in meant crossing some invisible line. Then, quietly, he did.
“I’m gonna make some tea,” she said, softer than she meant to. It felt safer than saying stay.
Jack nodded, following her into the kitchen. “Chamomile okay?” she asked, filling the kettle, her hands steady though her pulse wasn’t.
“That’s perfect.”
He moved easily beside her, pulling two mugs down from the cabinet like he’d done it a hundred times before.
They stood close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his skin, proof she wasn’t imagining any of this.
As the kettle hissed, she found her gaze snagging on him, wondering if his mind was circling the same reel. Her hands clutching at him, the sound of her voice breaking against his shoulder, or the way neither of them had wanted to let go.
Jack caught her staring and gave a faint, crooked smile. “I’m not really a tea guy,” he admitted. “But it’s calming.”
Samira’s lips curved. “That’s the whole point.”
The kettle whistled, sharp in the quiet. She poured the water, steam curling up between them. She carried hers into the living room with Jack trailing a step behind.
Curling onto the couch, she tucked her legs beneath her, palms cradling the warmth. Jack lowered himself beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed.
She took a sip, set the mug aside, then fussed with the hem of her sleeve before finally leaning into him. His arm came around her instantly, like it had been waiting there all along. The heat of him seeped into her, loosening something knotted deep in her chest.
“This feels… weird,” she murmured, almost embarrassed to admit it.
“Weird bad?” His head tipped toward hers, his voice careful.
She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Weird good. I don’t usually do this. Bring someone home. Just… sit here.”
His chest rumbled with a low hum. “Yeah. Feels different, doesn’t it? Not rushing. Not patching holes in a sinking ship. Just… stopping.”
Her throat tightened, the words hitting closer than he probably knew. Stopping was terrifying. It left room for all the things she usually outran.
A beat of silence passed before she whispered, “Stopping’s harder than it should be.”
His thumb brushed slow circles over her shoulder. “Guess we’ll figure it out together.”
Something in her wavered. She looked up, caught in the warmth of his whiskey eyes. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t filling the silence with noise. He was just there.
“Do you want to put something on?” she asked, breaking the tension with a small smile. “A movie, maybe?”
“Dealer’s choice.”
She scrolled aimlessly until something familiar filled the screen.
Jack shifted after a few minutes, reaching for his go-bag by the couch. He unzipped it and pulled out a folded printout.
“I almost forgot,” he said, holding it out to her.
Samira frowned, sitting up a little. “What’s this?”
“The article I mentioned in the car.” His tone was casual, but his hand lingered a second too long before letting go, like he wasn’t sure how she’d take it.
She unfolded the pages, her throat catching at the sight of his tight handwriting scattered along the margins. He hadn’t just flagged sections. He’d underlined key data, written questions, and even drawn connections she hadn’t thought of yet.
Her chest ached. He hadn’t just listened. He’d sat with it and thought it through like it mattered. Like she mattered.
Her fingers smoothed over the paper. “Jack…” Her voice was quieter than she meant. “You actually…”
“I know… I got a little carried away,” he said, half a smile tugging at his mouth.
She set the paper aside carefully, like it was something fragile, and leaned back into him. Her voice wavered. “That was… really sweet, Jack.”
Jack’s arm tightened around her, his jaw brushing her temple. “You're worth it.”
Her throat burned. She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into him, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear.
Outside, the storm still whispered against the windows. But here, with his arm around her and the quiet rise and fall of his breathing, she finally let herself stop.