A/N: This is the sequel to my story Dirty and Sweet. Read that first or this wont make much sense.
They'd developed a routine. By the last day in New York Alex knew exactly what to expect.
Eight twenty five am, Addison taps on his hotel room door. Tells him if he's not ready, she's not waiting. Somehow she's always ready before him. Even on that first morning, when they'd shared a room, she was dressed and coiffed by the time he was out of the shower.
Today she wore a trench coat over a black dress that hugged her hips and stopped tight just above the knee. It flattered her curves and looked expensive. Like everything she'd worn all week. He had no idea where it all came from. The suitcase she'd brought from Seattle didn't seem big enough for all that fabric. All those shoes. The myriad hair products he'd found cluttering that bathroom after she'd emerged wrapped in a fluffy, white towel. Long bare legs waltzing across the carpet in front of him and disappearing into the closet.
Those legs. He'd spent his shower fantasizing about them. Remembering how it felt to have them wrapped around his waist. Remembering other things.
After his shower they'd more or less ignored each other. She did her makeup. Back to him. Avoiding eye contact and any questions he might think to ask. He pulled on a suit. It had cost him a ridiculous amount of money. Wondered where they went from here.
She tied his tie. Plucked the silk from his hands and had it around his neck before he really knew what was happening. It was done in seconds. Faster and neater than if he'd done it himself.
She stepped back and surveyed his appearance. Unreadable smile playing on her lips. He wondered what it meant.
Force of habit? She'd been married. Was she used to doing that for her husband?
Maybe she just wanted him to look nice.
"You always dress conservatively on the first day," she'd told him in Seattle. "You should bring a suit. Buy something nice if you don't already have one. And make sure you have in tailored. First impressions are important. It's an investment."
"The suit or the impression?"
Now, in their hotel room in New York, she simply swept her eyes over him, nodded and said,
"You look nice. Let's go."
He felt himself stand taller. Spine straightened. His boss thought he looked nice enough to make a good first impression on the Chief of Surgery at Mount Sinai.
The woman with whom he'd shared what was possibly the most passionate experience of his life thought he looked nice.
Eight thirty is breakfast. The Starbuck's in the hotel lobby. Addison ordered three lattés that first day. Stared at him over the rim of the cup as she sipped them one by one. Daring him to comment on her caffeine intake. A topic of conversation that would inevitably lead them back to how they'd passed the previous night. Hours that should have been spent sleeping.
He kept his mouth shut. Tried to ignore the speck of foam clinging to her lips. Ignore the urge to wipe it away with his thumb. Suck it off her lips. Sweep it away with his tongue. The urge to touch.
She didn't let the silence last long. Didn't let things get awkward. Half way through her second cup she sighed and declared,
"Coffee tastes so much better in New York."
He reminded her that Seattle was actually the coffee capital of America as well as the birthplace of Starbuck's. She rolled her eyes and explained that it wasn't the coffee itself so much as the taste of the water. Insisted she could taste the difference and if he'd grown up in New York he'd know what she meant.
They were still arguing about it as the cab slid to a halt in front of the hospital. Eight fifty five. Five minutes early.
They were introduced to the Chief of Surgery. Signed forms. Met the doctors and nurses they'd be working together with. And finally introduced themselves to their patient.
He noticed the nurses and even some of the other surgeons admiring Addison's bedside manner. Felt ridiculously proud. Addison was an incredible doctor. And he was her intern. She picked him.
He noticed some of the younger men dragging their eyes up and down her legs. Knew it shouldn't bother him. It was something he did every day.
Addison informed the patient they would be monitoring her closely and would most likely operate within the next three days. They left the room.
After that it was work. Like they were back in Seattle. It felt so normal he could almost forget the sex had happened. Almost. Periodically something would bring the memories crashing back.
He leaned over to get a look at an ultra sound and suddenly he was close enough to smell her. Not the subtle scent of her shampoo or perfume but the scent of her underneath it.
She touched his shoulder and he felt it everywhere. Even through his lab coat, electricity blossomed from her finger tips. Set nerve endings on fire.
They were alone in the elevator to their hotel rooms. Did he see her shiver? Bite her lip? Steal careful glances in his direction?
He couldn't help the smirk that crept onto his face. Couldn't help smiling.
Until they reached her floor and she tossed a wink and a teasing,
"Make sure you get a good night's sleep, Alex," over her shoulder before dancing away, her voice, low and soft, leaving him speechless and guaranteed of just the opposite.
By morning he'd convinced himself she'd done it on purpose.
By the end of the week he'd come to expect a certain amount of teasing. Even returned her flirtations. And they were right back to where they'd been in Seattle. Wavering somewhere between flirtation and professionalism. Balanced on the edge of a knife. Now that they'd crossed that line once it would be so much easier to slip over it again.
So they kept their distance. Developed a system of interaction based entirely on their professional association. A routine. By their last day in New York Alex knew exactly what to expect.
But it was their last day in New York. And their surgery had been a success. And she said that called for drinks.
"Somewhere nice. So meet me in the lobby in half an hour and we'll go celebrate."
And suddenly Alex no longer knew what to expect.
She looked gorgeous. Red hair. Red dress. Red lips smiling. And she was happy. Eyes sparkling like the city, flooded with dazzling light.
They had fun. He chatted with anonymous girls. Addison danced with anonymous men. He watched her sway her hips, move her body with the music. Listened to her laughing.
And back at the hotel at the end of the night they stumbled into the elevator together. Addison laughing again. He'd said something funny but couldn't remember exactly what it was. Head swimming, he leaned against the wall. Closed his eyes.
He felt her shift beside him. Felt her breath on his neck. Soft, slurred words whispered into his ear,
"It's a good thing they moved us into separate rooms. Because I am really tempted to sleep with you right now."
"Yeah, good thing." Felt a wave dizziness that had very little to do with alcohol sweep over him.
They reached her floor and she drew away. Slipped out of the elevator and down the hall.
He knew she felt him behind her as she unlocked her door. Pretended to concentrate on her key card. He could feel a slight hesitation in her. The same hesitation that had settled on him. The knowledge that this was the last chance to turn and walk away.
He watched her fumble with the latch. Head bowed. Bare shoulders rising and falling with her breath only a few inches in front of him. Hair hanging down her back, a shimmering, silk curtain. And he reached forward and swept it aside. Skimmed his fingers over her skin. Then leaned down and kissed her neck.
Then two steps forward and they were through the door and it had fallen shut behind them.
As he lost himself in the smell of her skin, the heat of her lips against his, he briefly wondered if they were starting something from which there was no turning back.
A/N: If you're wondering the same thing as Alex, see the penultimate paragraph. Notice the door has fallen shut behind them.