Page 15 of Her Desire (Pulse Medical #3)

HOLLY

H olly hadn’t planned on driving across town. She hadn’t planned on standing in front of her cousin Clara’s apartment ringing the buzzer.

But here she was, tapping her foot on the carpeted floor, becoming increasingly more impatient that her cousin was taking her time to open the door.

Holly had left work with a migraine—something she’d never experienced before—but there was no other way to describe the relentless pounding in her skull.

The logical thing would have been to go home and lie in a dark room with a cold compress pressed to her forehead, pretending the assault on her brain wasn’t caused by Gianna, but there was nothing logical about the way Holly was feeling.

She pressed the buzzer again.

Still no answer. Nothing except for the faint sound of a baby babbling coming from the other door, which meant her patience was thinning out like the hairline of a middle-aged man.

She was just about to start aggressively jabbing the buzzer the same way an ER doctor tried to revive a flatlining patient when the door finally swung open.

Clara stood there, barefoot, wearing a Guns a reason she desperately needed to address for her own sanity’s sake.

“I thought he was working from home this week. I haven’t seen him in ages.

Can you tell him that I miss his ugly face and that he keeps forgetting we were best friends before the two of you got married? ”

Holly and Greg had defied everyone’s expectations by staying best friends throughout high school and college, despite that whole outdated notion that men and women couldn’t just be friends.

But Holly had never seen him in any romantic sort of way.

He was like a brother to her. And luckily, when he married Clara, he officially became family.

“Holly,” Clara said straight-faced and impatient. “Are you here because of Brian? Did he try to call you again?” she sat forward with her elbows pressed into her knees. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t agree to go on another date with him. Didn’t you say it was bad enough?—”

“It’s got nothing to do with Brian.”

“Who then?” Clara asked, reaching for the remote Josie had chewed on moments ago. She grabbed a baby wipe from the pack sitting on the side table and began cleaning it off. “Because it has to be a who . If your mood had anything to do with surgery, you would’ve blurted it out by now.”

Holly stared at the coffee table for a long moment, the words caught somewhere between her brain and her throat.

It felt entirely impossible that one night, one reckless, emotional, mind-spinning night, could unravel everything Holly thought she knew about herself.

She’d spent her whole life thinking that she understood her own desires, her own boundaries.

She’d dated men, she’d been with men, and while it had always felt… fine, it had never felt like this.

Never so all-consuming that she’d spent the last forty-eight hours, give or take, feeling like she was walking in a body that wasn’t even hers.

And maybe that was what scared Holly most. That sleeping with Gianna—Gianna who had made her feel hot and cold, safe and unsteady, seen in a way that had left her breathless—hadn’t been some regret-worthy mistake or a lapse in judgment.

It had felt right. Holly had wanted it. Wanted her .

“I slept with someone.”

Clara looked at her, and then, with absolutely no hesitation, she said, “Well, that’s great, isn’t it? Finally letting someone in. Was it any good?”

Holly huffed out a breath. It was now or never. “I slept with a woman.”

The words landed like a bomb in the room. Even Josie, who had made cute cooing noises seconds earlier, seemed to pause mid-gurgle.

Clara’s mouth opened and then closed. She stared at Holly for what felt like ages, which only made Holly’s heart pound so fast she could hear the thump of it in her ears.

“Okay…um, well,” Clara said, her voice cautious but at the same time nonjudgemental—not that Holly had expected anything else. “I’m going to need you to elaborate.”

Holly exhaled and dragged her hands down her face before she clasped them together. “It was—” She stopped, shaking her head. How the hell was she going to explain this when she barely understood it herself?

Clara leaned forward. Everything about her expression screamed curious, intrigued, and of course, just a little amused. “It was what?” she prompted.

Holly swallowed down the lump in her throat. Or at least tried to. “It wasn’t just anyone. It was Gianna.”

“As in your Gianna?” Clara asked, her green eyes turning to expand into the size of dinner plates. “Doctor Gianna? From Oakridge?”

Holly’s stomach twisted into knots at that.

Your Gianna , as if she had any claim over her, as if Gianna wasn’t probably already hating her for spending the last two days actively avoiding her.

Holly had shut Gianna out, and although the reason seemed entirely simple, necessary even, she also knew it wasn’t fair.

“Yes,” Holly admitted. “It kind of just…happened.”

Clara laughed and clapped her hands together. This got a reaction from Josie, who seemed to have learned how to clap those chubby hands together. “So, what? You tripped and fell into her bed? What does that even mean?”

Holly shot her cousin the sharpest glare she could manage, which only had Clara raising both hands in defense. “Hey,” Clara said. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around this because, unless I’ve missed something major, I was pretty sure you were straight.”

The word made Holly flinch. It felt almost foreign, as if it didn’t quite fit anymore, not after the way that orgasm had exploded through her. Frankly, Holly had never felt so turned on, so utterly wrecked by someone’s touch, so completely undone in a way that had left her shaky and breathless.

“So was I,” Holly muttered.

“Was?” Clara asked, brows lifting. She really looked as though she was loving this, which only aggravated the whole situation because none of this felt amusing to Holly.

She let out a slow breath and flopped back onto the couch. The cushions were soft and comfy, the kind of couch that felt as if it belonged in a home. Not just an apartment.

“I don’t know… I don’t know anything anymore.

But what I do know is that it wasn’t just—” she broke off, rubbing at her temples.

“It wasn’t just sex. I thought it would be.

I thought I could just…move on. But I can’t.

Honestly, I can’t stop thinking about it.

And worse, I think I liked it.” She let out a groan and buried her face in her hands. “No, I know I liked it. Loved it even.”