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The Fake Mate(97)

Author:Lana Ferguson

“Fuck.”

It takes every bit of restraint not to knot her deep, to keep the thick base of my cock flush against her opening instead of letting it swell inside, and the cool air of the exam room feels downright arctic against my heated skin. I grit my teeth so hard they might chip as I fill her with pulse after pulse of my orgasm, shivering through it almost as hard as she is.

And even when it’s over, when my cock goes still and her body collapses against the chair—the thumping of blood in my ears doesn’t quiet. She winces when I pull out of her suddenly, and then a startled sound fills the air when I push my fingers through the mess I’ve made of her, collecting everything I can and pushing it back inside to hold it there, since my knot can’t. I keep her full of my fingers for an insurmountable amount of time, catching my breath as I leave soft kisses on her skin, waiting for my body to calm.

“Dr. Taylor to X-ray room 204. Dr. Taylor to X-ray room 204.”

Mackenzie’s laugh is breathless but loud, her body shaking against mine even as I press one last kiss to her hip before straightening. I’m loath to pull my fingers from her, a twinge of leftover instinct practically growling in my chest, wanting me to keep her full of me.

“Someone’s in high demand today,” Mackenzie teases as she turns to slump down in the chair.

My eyes rake over her—her hand draped haphazardly over her belly button, tracing idle circles on her skin like she’s still out of it—having to fight the urge to take her again. “Today might mark the most popular I’ve ever been.”

“Mm.” She catches me off guard when she yanks on my tie, nearly sending me off-balance since I’ve only got one leg back in my pants. She lets her lips brush mine, the action entirely too soft and sweet for what we just did. “I should page you more often.”

I chuff out a laugh. “Much more of this, and they’ll have to find an interventional cardiologist for me.”

“Wow, that was either the sweetest or the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You’re a bad influence,” I mumble, righting my pants and buttoning them.

Her grin is blinding, threatening to steal the air from my lungs. “I think you like it.”

No, I love it. I love you.

I have to clench my jaw to keep the words in my throat so they don’t escape into the air. It’s like now that the seed has been planted . . . I’m desperate to let it grow.

“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.

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