But then again, there are a lot of things I hadn’t considered until this . . . agreement.
I don’t touch myself again, even as my body screams that I finish—mostly because I am appalled at myself for getting so worked up over something as simple as the scent of Noah. That stretched sensation is still in my skin, and that pulsing is still heavy between my thighs, and even as I stumble to the dryer on shaky legs, sneaking Noah’s shirt into his laundry—there is still something that feels . . . off. Even if I can’t for the life of me imagine what that something is.
I don’t have to imagine anything, the memory of Noah’s voice whispers. You’re fucking beautiful.
A shiver passes through me. This is going to be a long day.
* * *
?“You don’t look so good.”
I purse my lips, cutting my eyes to my right at a discerning-looking Parker. “Thanks.”
“I just mean, you look sick or something.”
“I’m fine,” I toss back. “Just worry about the computer.”
“Pretty sure they deleted the program icon from the desktop again,” he grouses.
I shrug, looking over the chart in my hand. “Well, I’ve listened to three different nurses bitching about it, so just fix whatever it is so I don’t have to hear about it anymore.”
Parker stops working on the buggy terminal behind the nurses’ station, eyeing me strangely. “Someone’s in a mood. Are you sure you aren’t sick?”
I screw my eyes shut, trying to block out the slight pounding in my head. It’s true that I have felt off since this morning, but what I’d thought was a bad case of being dick drunk had turned into more and more of a puny feeling with every passing hour. Maybe I am getting sick.
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “My head is killing me.”
“It’s probably your conscience trying to knock some sense into you about your recent sexcapades,” Parker quips.
“Not today,” I huff. “Not unless you’re offering a big fat ibuprofen.”
“When did it start?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It seems to be getting worse since this morning,” I tell him truthfully. “Ever since I left Noah’s.”
Parker scoffs. “You’re staying over now?”
“It just made sense,” I tell him wearily. “Since I was there so late.”
“I know you think I’m being a dick—”
“A valid opinion,” I cut in.
“—but I’m worried about you, Mack. That’s all. I thought it was a bad idea when you got wrapped up in this whole fake-mate nonsense, but I don’t think you’re considering the possible fallout of all this.”
“Keep your voice down,” I hiss, looking around to find us still alone. “You’re making too big of a deal about it, I promise. It’s a damned headache. Not an existential crisis.”
“I know, but you’ve always been so careful about how close you get to people, and now you’re diving into this pretend relationship headfirst without a second thought. I know you want to help Noah, but I worry you’ll end up getting hurt.”
“I said, keep your voice dow—”
“Hey,” a lilting voice calls from the counter behind us. “Do you have a list of Mr. Wheeler’s medication?”
I turn, immediately feeling my spine stiffen as I notice the last person I want within earshot of this conversation. Dennis Martin is smiling at me from the other side of the counter, his expression seemingly devoid of any indications that he might have heard what Parker and I were talking about.
“Oh,” Dennis says with innocent surprise. “I didn’t see you there, Dr. Carter. I mean, Mack.” He chuckles to himself. “Right?”
“Right,” I say woodenly. “Mack is fine.”
“I thought you were a nurse,” he says with another quiet laugh. “Any idea where they’ve all gone?”
“Staff meeting,” I tell him. “Parker was just looking at a wonky terminal while they were gone. They should be back soon, though, if you need something.”
“No, no,” he says casually. “I can come back. It isn’t urgent.” He braces his elbow on the counter, leaning against it. “How is Noah?”
I feel myself bristle. “Noah is . . . fine.”
“Good, good,” Dennis answers cheerfully. “He’s seemed a little off lately, hasn’t he? I worry, you know.”