She turns to look at me over her shoulder, the tip of her tongue flashing to wet her bottom lip. “Like this?”
“That’s perfect,” I rasp, my hands sliding over her hips. “So good.”
And she is. So good. She’s the gift-wrapped wet dream I never even knew I needed. My hands actually shake with the knowledge that I get to touch her. That she wants me to.
The chair is low enough that I can straddle the seat of it, even if my stance feels too wide, but if I raise a knee to let it rest by one of hers, I can almost comfortably curl my body into hers. I smooth my hands down either side of her hips, bending until I can press soft kisses along her throat. She presses back against me when my thumbs tuck into the waistband of her scrub bottoms, making a needy little sound that has my cock growing impossibly harder.
I swipe my tongue along the fevered gland nestled in the bend of her shoulder, nipping it with my teeth as I tug down her clothes. “You seem a little feverish, Ms. Carter.”
“Do I?”
“Mm.” My palm glides over hips and down, fingers teasing where her scrubs are scrunched above her knees and quietly urging her to adjust so I can ease them off her. When she’s naked from the waist down, I continue my lazy exploration, gliding my fingers over the inside of her thigh until it reaches the hottest part of her. “Especially here.” She sucks in a breath when I press my thumb against her entrance, already slick for me. “Does it hurt here?”
“So bad,” she gasps.
I press deeper, teasing her with my thumb. “Maybe I can help with that.”
“Can you?”
Her fucking scent. It makes my eyes roll back with how thick it is, and somewhere in the clearer parts of my lust-addled mind, I know there is no way no one will realize how I’ve touched her if she walks out of here smelling like this. The thought should have me wary, but all it does it make me burn hotter. I realize I want them to know I’ve touched her. I want everyone in the goddamn hospital to know that she’s mine.
I go still, trying to get a handle on my racing thoughts. My breath huffs against her skin, and as if she senses my momentary episode, I feel her hand reach behind her until her fingers push into my hair. “You okay?”
Am I?
The thought is still there—some primal urge to mark her, claim her—to ensure that there is never a doubt that she belongs to me, and that I belong to her.
And in this moment . . . it’s terrifying thinking that I might be alone in that feeling.
“I just . . . Are you sure this is a good idea?”
She turns her face to let her lips graze my jaw, and my eyes drift closed as I relish the sensation. “I’ve been thinking about you being inside me all day. Do you really want to wait until we’re not on opposite shifts again to touch me?”
She has a point. She’ll be on the night shift for another five days while I work the opposite—meaning that there will only be a small window where our schedules overlap and I can see her at work. The thought of not being inside her for five days feels like absolute torture.
“No,” I admit roughly. “I don’t.”
“Stop worrying, Dr. Taylor,” she says soothingly, her nails scratching lightly at my scalp as she presses back against me. “Just don’t knot me, and we’re golden.”
“Fuck,” I groan. Just the word knot on her lips is enough to make my cock ache. I push my thumb deeper inside her, enjoying the little mewl that escapes her. “You want my cock? Right here?”
“Fuck, yes,” she sighs, wiggling against me. “Come on, Doctor. Gimme a shot.”
A different kind of groan escapes me. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it,” she laughs.
I might love you.
It punches through me, threatening to swallow me as if the ground has opened beneath me, but I shake it away. It’s too soon—both the feeling and the time to even remotely begin to entertain the possibility of sharing it—so I focus instead on the way her skin tastes. I home in on the feel of her hot and wet in my hands, practically begging for me to fill her. It’s the distraction I need to keep the other worrying thoughts at bay.
I watch her skin pebble with goose bumps as the stark sound of my zipper sliding down fills the space, rubbing my palm over my heated length through my underwear to seek some momentary bout of relief. Relief I know I won’t find until I’m buried inside her. Nothing else can ever compare to her. Mackenzie Carter has unknowingly ruined me, and I’m not even upset about it.