It's absolute chaos in the hospital's corridors. A note of panic buzzes in the air as every person in the building moves swiftly toward the nearest exit. Their nervous chatter and rushed movements are accentuated by the shrill wail of the alarm and the red emergency lights flashing through the halls.

I’m in full turnout gear, equipped for search and rescue. My role is to help maintain a certain level of calm while evacuating the building’s occupants unharmed. I hurry through the halls doing just that. Edging around a nurse helping a pregnant woman into a wheelchair, I shove open a door and quickly aid a nurse's assistant transfer a man with a broken leg onto a gurney. As soon as that's taken care of, I race back into the hallway just in time to direct a pair of hobbling patients away from the elevator and toward the stairs. Then, I'm helping a doctor push a bed through a doorway.  

I move frantically from task to task because right now, the only thing that matters is getting every soul out of this building in the shortest time possible. On the outside, I may seem cool and composed but on the inside, I'm freaking out. 

I haven't seen Angie.

Sure—it's possible that she already made it out. Or that she isn't even working today. But the idea that she may be trapped in some part of this building and in need of help, that's driving me crazy.

I slip into a room where a nurse is wheeling a terrified young patient to the door. I bring my walkie talkie to my lips as I hold the door open for them. "Do we have eyes on all the medical interns?" I bellow into the device.

It feels like an eternity before I get a response. "We've got the two guys down here. The girl is still somewhere inside," a staticy voice informs me.

My guts wrench harshly at that news. Dammit, Gigi. Where are you?

My frantic search for her continues as I dash through the hall, helping people out of rooms as quickly as possible. My heart is racing as questions skitter and tumble through my mind. What if she's hurt? What if she can't get out? What if I don't find her in time?

I drive myself to push those questions aside. Not finding her is not an option. I peer through the small window of a door into what looks like an empty laboratory. I'm about to skate right past it when a movement inside catches my eyes. 

Christ! Oh Christ!

I burst through the door and she swings around, her short, silky hair swaying with the movement. My neck tingles and for a second, the pandemonium outside is forgotten. Her eyes widen with surprise at the sight of me and then I bear witness as an idea dawns in her pretty brown peepers.

Hopefulness fills my chest.

"Oh good…Ben…" she says thoughtfully as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose with the back of her gloved wrist. "You’re with the fire department. You know how to make these stupid emergency bulbs stop flashing?" She spins back toward the table in front of her, cool as a cucumber. "The blinking lights are really messing with my concentration."

I charge across the room to where she’s hunched over on a high stool. "What the hell are you doing, Angie?!" Her workstation is littered with various surgical instruments. On the slab of wood in front of her is a raw turkey breast. Another pile of poultry lays discarded at the edge of the table.

She doesn't look up. She just waves an arm matter-of-factly in the direction of the doorway. "It's the skills lab. I'm practicing my skills." She stabs a needle into the meat and starts stitching a fat drumstick into the middle of the turkey breast.

What on earth is she doing? "Do you not hear the ear-piercing alarm ripping through the building?"

She nods resolutely with a wicked grin like a kid getting away with staying up past her bedtime. "I do indeed hear the alarm. Perfect time for honing my suture technique. I get the lab all to myself while the other interns go running scared. Suckers!"

"Angela—the building's on fire!"

Glancing at me with a furrowed brow, she speaks in a condescending tone. "The fire is pretend, Benjie. It's a fire drill."

"And it's important. If you don't participate in the fire drill, you won't know the protocol for evacuating in the event of a real emergency."

She sighs with exasperation. "I'll look at a few YouTube videos when I get a chance, if that makes you feel better. For now, I've got to work on my surgical technique."

God! I'd forgotten how hardheaded this woman is!

"I'm giving you one last opportunity to walk out of here on your own, Angie."

She huffs out a laugh. "Or what? You’re gonna toss me over your shoulder and carry me out, kicking and screaming?"

Apparently, she thinks I’m joking. "Last. Chance. Angela." I grit out.

She just laughs some more, eyes still focused on the Frankenstein turkey she’s building.

This is ridiculous. "Okay, enough!"

I storm over to her and twist her chair around before unceremoniously hauling her up by the armpits. The familiar scent of her shampoo fills my sense of smell, making my gut clench sharply. Tamping down the need, I loop an arm around her waist and throw her over my shoulder, butt in the air. With a tight grip on the backs of her knees, I stomp toward the door.

She makes her displeasure loud and clear, swinging her legs, hollering and slapping my back with the turkey breast as I carry her down the now-empty hallway.

I’ve got to say that this is a first. I’ve never been assaulted with a piece of poultry in the line of duty before. This job is full of surprises.

But despite the abuse, I’m loving this. I’m loving the feel of her in my arms. I love the smell of her (minus the odour of the raw meat, of course). I love the sound of her voice.

My Gigi. In my arms. The sweet girl I fell in love with.

I nudge open the fire escape door with my hip and jog down the three flights of stairs to the ground floor. I pause on the landing.

She’s still thrashing about. I speak calmly over the sound of her cursing. “Now, Angela—we’re about to step out into the lobby. You may have coworkers out there, and I’m sure you don’t want to look like a psychotic fool in front of them. So, I’m gonna put you down on your feet and give you a second to get yourself together. Don’t make me regret it.”

Her battle ceases and I hear her breathing regulate gradually. I slowly set her down and take a step back so that we’re facing each other. Her cheeks are red and there are tears sitting on the rims of her eyes. Her mouth is tight and flat with anger. Her hair is a mess, her glasses are crooked.

“Are you proud of yourself?” she taunts through gritted teeth. “Need a minute to pound your chest, you big, bad alpha jerk?”

“Angie…” I try to touch her but she jerks away.

“You’re not some hero,” she whispers, her voice cracking a little.

I know she’s pissed at me, but I can’t help but try to brush a lock of hair from her face. “I’m sorry, Gigi. Maybe I got carried away.” 

She moves like lightning, slapping my hand away. “Saving me from some building that isn’t even on fire doesn’t make you a hero.”

“Don’t you know I’d die if something happened to you?”

Her arm swings back and I move fast, intercepting it before it makes contact with my cheek. That only makes her angrier. “Fuck you!”

I don’t care. I need her to know. I’m done hiding the way I feel about her. “I’ve missed you so much…”

“Shut up!” She charges at me again and I take a quick step back. Still, one fist connects with the center of my chest while the other clutches tight to that damn piece of mutilated turkey.

But now that I've got her alone, I have to tell her how I feel. I have to. “I never stopped thinking about you, Angie. Never. You probably think that I forgot about you and about what it was like to laugh with you and to kiss you and to…” I pause. “But I couldn’t forget. God knows I tried but I just couldn’t forget.” She’s still punching me weakly and I let her because maybe it’s making her feel better. Heaven knows I feel like shit for what I did to her.

“Stop it!” she grits out.

These feelings have been steeping inside of me for far too long. I have to let them out. “If I live for a hundred years, you’ll still be the only woman I ever love.”

“Stop…” Her tears flow freestyle down her face as her strikes grow even weaker and her shoulders shake with her sobs. “Stop saying those words to me. Stop dropping by the hospital to check on me. Stop messaging me on CheekyChat. And stop trying to save me from a building that isn’t even on fire. Just stop!”

I lower my face just as I’m lifting her chin, forcing her to look at me. “I love you, Angie…I never stopped being in love with you.”

"So what the fuck am I supposed to do with all this information, Ben?" She’s standing there, tears leaking from her eyes. Her chest heaves as she waits.

“I don’t have an answer for that question…” I take slow steps backward, away from her. Now that I’ve said my piece, I feel an odd sense of calm. Now that she knows what’s in my heart, I feel relief. The way I feel about her will never change, but now, I have closure.

Angie lifts her arm slowly and her fingers clench on the fabric of my turn-out jacket. I move willingly as she gently pulls me closer. With every inch that no longer separates us, my pulse grows faster. She doesn’t release her grip until we’re standing chest to chest. I see the wild flutter of the vein in her throat and the way her lips quiver ever so slightly. She’s afraid. She’s afraid of how much she wants me. I feel the same goddamned way.

I gently stroke the pad of my thumb across her cheek, pushing away the tear coursing down her face. Her fingers clasp on the back of my neck and our faces draw nearer.

And then she lays her sweet lips on mine. And she’s kissing me. Soft, apprehensive, unsure, her lips move across mine.

My hand settles on her waist, tenderly gripping the soft flesh there. She moans against my mouth, pulling me closer still. Her tongue moves along the seam out my mouth and mine comes out to greet it.

It’s heaven.

Even though wanting more of her is hell.

I’m so hungry for her. For seven years, I’ve yearned to taste her, to have her in my arms. And now that we’re together like this, the restraint is driving me wild. I can’t take it.

Both of my big hands come up and cup her cheeks. I angle her head just the way I need to and thrust my tongue past her lips. Her body responds, growing more pliant in my arms. All signs of resistance are gone. Only overwhelming lust remains as our lips press together and our tongues intertwine with hot, wild strokes.

She tastes just the way I remember but completely different at the same time. She’s a woman now. Her body proves that point very well. Soft curves pressed against me. Every inch of her, feminine and voluptuous. My hands slide down the length of her spine as her fingers get tangled in my hair.

I lift her off the ground, the soft globes of her ass filling my hands. I wrap her legs around me and my hard, pulsing cock nestles into the space between her thighs, cursing the layers of clothes in the way. I want to tear off every shred of fabric that’s coming between us. I want her naked. I want to be inside of her. Right here, right now.

The sensual caress of something slippery and cool and foreign rubbing along my neck barely registers in my mind. But then the scent of raw flesh fills my senses and it clicks!

With my lips pressed to hers, I start laughing. My chest shakes and sounds of mirth spill from me. I don’t want to break the kiss but I can’t control my laughter.

Arms and legs wrapped tight around me, she pulls back slightly with confusion in her eyes. “What…?”

“I just realized that—this whole time—you’ve been caressing my neck with a raw turkey cutlet.”

“Eep!” she yelps as she jumps off of me and takes a quick step back. “I’m so sorry, Ben.” Her eyes shimmer with humor. And then, she’s smiling, too. “Talk about getting carried away, huh?” She bites down on her lip shyly.

“Yeah…”

“Yeah…”

She’s so beautiful with her ever-messy chestnut hair and her glimmering eyes projecting lust from behind her glasses. Her red lips are wet and plump from our kiss. I want more of her.

Just as I'm reaching to pull her in for another kiss, the door swings open and clusters of people flood inside. The fire drill is over.

Angie swallows hard. “I—I should probably go dispose of this.” She lifts the meat in the air. “Biohazard, y’know?”

I chuckle under my breath. “Yeah.” I watch as she turns to walk up the stairs. “Angie?”

She throws me a look over her shoulder. “I still want that drink with you. Hot chocolate…Tequila…Hot chocolate with tequila…”

One corner of her mouth lifts wryly. Fuck—I think that’s a smile.

She doesn’t answer. She melts into the crowd and disappears up the stairs.