The Nurse's Secret

The next few nights, I let her be.

No extra comments. No grabbing her. No pressure.

Just a look here and there. A smirk when she walked by.

I could tell it was getting to her.

She glanced at my cell longer than she should. Her movements were more tense, like she was waiting for me to say something. But I didn't.

I let the silence work for me.

Then one night she slipped.

She was going through her routine, stopping by each cell for meds and checks. When she reached mine, I was sitting on my bunk waiting.

"Need anything tonight?" She asked, her voice clipped, all business.

I grinned. "You."

Her lips pressed into a tight line. "You said you were done blackmailing me."

I shrugged. "I am."

She let out a slow breath, clearly frustrated. "Then stop this."

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees voice dropping to something low and intimate. "You're the one stopping at my cell every night, acting like you don't want me to say something."

Her jaw tightened. "I'm doing my job."

I smirked. "And I'm just having a conversation."

She shook her head, clearly irritated, but she didn't move. Didn't step away. She was waiting for something, even if she wouldn't admit it.

I let my gaze drag all over her body--those tight scrubs clinging to her full thighs, the way her top stretched over her curves. Even pissed off, she was fine as hell.

"You don't want to admit it." I said slowly, letting my voice wrap around her, "but I know you've thought about it."

She scoffed. "You're delusional."

I stood up closing the space between us. She took half a step back but hit the cell bars behind her.

I reached up, trailing a single finger down her arm, barely touching. She shivered.

"Tell me you don't want it." I sweet talked her.

Her breathing was uneven now.

Her lips parted slightly.

Then--

She pushed off the bars, forcing herself to straighten. "I'm married."

I let out a quiet chuckle. "And?"

Her nostrils flared, her hands clenching at her sides. "I won't cheat on my husband."

I leaned in just enough for her to feel my breath on her neck. "You already have."

Her whole body tensed. For a second, I thought she'd slap me.

But instead, she turned and walked away-- fast, like she was running from her own thoughts.

I let her go.

Because I knew the battle was already lost.

For her, anyway.

A few nights later, she came in looking different.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair a little messier than usual. She had tried to clean herself up, but I could tell--she'd been crying.

She walked past my cell like normal, but I saw the hesitation in her step.

"Rough night?" I asked, keeping my tone casual.

She stopped, closed her eyes for a second, then turned back.

"Shut up." She muttered.

But she didn't walk away.

I titled my head, watching her. "Let me guess--husband acting up again?"

Her jaw tightened. "It's none of your business."

I smirked. "Maybe not. But you're here. And I bet he doesn't even know where you are right now, does he?"

Her nostrils flared. I could tell I was getting under her skin.

Slowly, I stepped closer to the bars.

"Why do you even stay with him?" I asked, my voice softer now. "Man clearly doesn't appreciate what he has."

She let out a bitter laugh. "You don't know anything about my life."

I shrugged. "I know enough."

She stared at me, eyes searching mine like she was trying to figure out what the hell she was doing here.

Then, finally, she spoke.

"You deleted that picture right?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You saw me delete it. What are you talking about?"

She swallowed, hesitating. "I don't know. I've just been worried. You didn't resave it or something?"

I let the silence stretch before finally answering. "No."

Her shoulders sagged slightly, a flicker of relief in her expression.

I could tell she had been worried sick.

I reached through the bars, tilting her chin up slightly so she had to look at me. "You think that picture was the only thing I had?"

She went still.

Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching.

I could see the panic creeping into her eyes, the way her mind was racing, trying to process what I had just said.

"What--" she stated, but stopped herself. She swallowed forcing her expression to harden. "What do you mean?"

I let my fingers trace along her jaw, slow, deliberate.

"I mean," I said, keeping my voice low "You should be careful what you do in front of a camera."

Her body stiffened more. "You said--"

"I said I deleted that picture." I interrupted smoothly. "And I did. You watched me."

Silence.

A heavy, scoffing silence.

I could see her mind working, replaying every second in her head. Trying to remember if she had seen more than just that one picture. If I had ever shown her something else or if I was bluffing.

She took a shaky breath. "Are you messing with me?"

I smirked. "Does it feel like I am?"

She stepped back, her face tight with unease. "I need to go."

I let my hand drop from her face, watching as she turned quickly on her heel.

She was rattled. Conflicted.

And now, no matter how much she told herself she was done with this, one thing was for sure--

I owned her thoughts now.

She could try to ignore it. Try to pretend like this war was over.

But that doubt? That nagging in the back of her mind?

That was going to eat her alive.

And when she came back--because I knew she would--she'd be walking right into my hands.