redwine13
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Summary
“Tongue?”
Samira Mohan let out a laugh, stepping out of the elevator and into the hub. Jack Abbot followed closely behind as he tried to match her stride.
“Absolutely not,” she said without looking up.
“Come on. Just a peck once a month?”
She cringed down at the tablet in her hands, focused on scrolling through patient charts. “I’d prefer we not.”
“Forehead kiss?”
“I’m sure Myrna would love one,“ Samira teased.
—
Or, the kiss seen across the universe.