The Fake Mate(83)

“Maybe a little,” I say instead, bending to kiss her again as I hand her her pants. I tuck my face against her throat after, inhaling from her. “You’re going to smell like me for days.”

“You don’t sound very upset about it.”

Another long pull of her scent. “I’m not.” I straighten, frowning back at the still-locked door. “Should we be worried about hallway cameras? Are they still functioning on this floor? It might be strange if we’re both on camera heading to a floor no one is using, right?”

“There’s the Noah Taylor we all know and love,” Mackenzie laughs, hopping off the table and grabbing for a paper towel dispenser on the wall to clean up.

I remind myself that she doesn’t mean it as literally as I’d like her to. What is wrong with me?

“I might have . . . bribed the IT guy to shut them off for an hour,” she goes on sheepishly, throwing the napkin away and busying herself with getting dressed.

My eyebrows raise. “That could be considered a gross misuse of resources, Ms. Carter.”

“Probably.” She practically skips to close the distance between us, pushing up on her toes to press her mouth to mine. “Are you going to tell on me?”

My eyelids drift closed as she deepens the kiss, and my arm circles her waist to hold her closer against me. “Doubtful,” I say as seriously as I can manage. “Like I said, you’re a bad influence.”

She grins. “Stick with me, Doc. I’ll teach you all sorts of fun things.”

She leaves another peck at my lips, sauntering past me like she didn’t just turn my entire fucking world on its head. She pulls open the door and tosses me a look over her shoulder. “You owe me another date, but until then, feel free to page me.”

I watch her go with my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth, wondering how in the hell I’m going to get through the rest of my shift with her slick on my fingers and the feel of her still humming under my skin. Or how I’m going to make it through the next five days while we’re on opposite shifts without losing my mind.

But more important . . . how in the hell am I going to tell her that I love her?





21





Mackenzie





“Thanks for coming down,” I tell Priya. “I saw this once in residency, but it wasn’t this bad.”

Priya waves me off with her free hand while the respiratory therapist finishes inflating the balloon on the patient she’s just finished intubating. “Don’t even. These can be tricky. I’ve been doing this for years, and I’m still afraid I’m going to chip someone’s teeth with the laryngoscope.”

The patient she’s working on was admitted with severe pneumonia that progressed to levels that made it difficult for them to breathe—not uncommon during this time of year, but still hard to see. They’re sleeping now after the sedatives and paralytics given to them before Priya started intubating, the entire process marking the end of what turned out to be a very long night.

While she lets the RT finish up, Priya pulls off her gloves, tossing them into the waste bin while I let the nurse know to monitor the patient and call me if there are any changes. “Six can’t get here fast enough,” she says with a slight yawn.

“You’re telling me. It should be illegal to work when the sun isn’t out.”

She stretches as she checks her watch. “Only an hour left.”

“Thank God,” I grunt.

She flashes me a sly grin. “Must be nice that you get to go home to your grumpy bedmate, at least.”

“Hardly,” I snort. “He’s been on day shift.”

“Ah,” Priya sighs dramatically, pressing a hand to her heart. “They were like two ships passing in the night.”

I roll my eyes as she follows me toward the doctors’ lounge. A cup of coffee is exactly what I need to drag through this last hour. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, it’s gotta be hell to be mated to another doctor,” Priya says. “Do you guys, like, have to schedule your sex?”

I feel my cheeks heat in a blush, thinking back to only a few short days ago when Noah and I had very unscheduled sex in this very building. I clear my throat, trying to look nonchalant. “It’s not that bad.”

“Man, I still can’t picture the two of you having sex.”

“Maybe you should just . . . not then.”

She grins. “Are you kidding? My friend is mated to the equivalent of a hot hospital cryptid. Like, there are legends about Noah, Mack.”

“They’re all—”

“—grossly overexaggerated,” she finishes with a snicker. “Yes, you’ve told me. You’re even starting to sound like him.”

That makes me smile. Maybe he’s rubbing off on me. Well, in ways other than the literal sense. Which he most definitely is. The thought only makes me blush again.

“What’s he like at home?”

I tap my chin thoughtfully before I grab an empty paper cup near the Keurig. “Do you remember when we used to have conversations that didn’t revolve around Noah? Those were the good old days.”

“No one asked you to mate Noah fucking Taylor in secret and withhold all the juicy details for an entire year,” she says, clucking her tongue.