The Fake Mate
: Chapter 20

“dr. taylor?”

I blink, noticing the woman in scrubs looking at me expectantly. “Hm?”

“You okay?” She quirks an eyebrow at me. “You’ve been kind of . . . smiling at the coffee maker for like a full minute. It’s sort of creepy, to be honest.”

“Sorry.” My eyes flick to her name tag. “Jessica.” I frown, her name sounding familiar but I can’t place from where. “Can I help you?”

Jessica smirks. “Been hunting you down for almost an hour. You still haven’t signed off on Mr. Guzman’s chart.”

“Oh.” Shit. That’s unlike me to make them wait so long. “Sorry, I was . . . distracted.”

“Mhm.” The nurse crosses her arms, looking less annoyed and more . . . smug. “I’ll bet you are.”

“Pardon?”

She waves me off. “If you could just get those signed off for me, I promise I won’t come hunt you down in the doctors’ lounge again.”

“Right, right.” I straighten the collar of my white coat in a flustered gesture. “I’ll do that right now.”

Jessica is still smirking when she turns away, tossing her hand up over her shoulder in a wave. “Congrats on your mating, by the way!”

That was . . . odd. I shake my head, trying to pull myself together. It’s not the first time since last weekend that I’ve lost myself in the memories of Mackenzie in my space for an entire weekend. Her scent is in my sheets and my kitchen and all over my couch—and in the time since she’s gone back to sleeping at her place, I find myself missing her presence in my home more and more. Which makes no sense, given that we’ve only been on one official date.

I think the staff thinks I might be on the verge of some sort of psychotic break; I’ve walked into a room more than once to ceased conversations and wide-eyed stares—not to mention how hysterical Mackenzie finds the matter of the hospital being abuzz with “Dr. Taylor smiling for the first time ever.” Which can’t be true, I would think. Surely I’ve smiled before I met Mackenzie. Surely.

I abandon the task of getting coffee, shuffling out of the lounge and back to my office so I can sign off on that chart before Jessica the RN comes looking for me again. When it’s done, I consider texting Mackenzie, wondering if twice in one morning before she’s had time to reply would come off as annoying. I check my emails instead, trying to distract myself from anything that might make me seem more obsessed than I already seem.

There’s a response to my dodgy reply to Albuquerque asking for more time to consider, reminding me that they need an answer from me as soon as possible. I ignore it, telling myself a few more days won’t hurt. I can discuss it with Mackenzie soon, I think. Now that we’re—

I frown, leaning back in my chair. It occurs to me that we haven’t exactly . . . defined what we are. I would like to think that we are more than just pretend now, but given my lack of experience in the matters of dating—I can’t be entirely sure. Maybe that’s something we should talk about as well. Even if the thought of doing so ties my stomachs into knots, because what if she thinks it’s too soon? What if she isn’t interested in entertaining the idea of a real relationship with me after only one date and a handful of intimate encounters?

It’s a question that’s been plaguing me since the night I took her out.

I blow out a breath as I sink down further in my chair, closing my eyes and wondering how I’ve allowed myself to fall into such a predicament. Attachments have never been my thing, and Mackenzie is the last person I ever would have pictured myself with—so why is it that everything about her has me on a constant edge, counting the seconds until I can hear her voice again, enjoy her scent again, touch her again. It’s all I can think about anymore. A steady beat pulsing through my brain of Mackenzie Mackenzie Mackenzie.

“Dr. Taylor to room 807. Dr. Taylor to room 807.”

I sit up, my brow knitting together. The eighth floor is currently undergoing construction, which means they’re barely using it at the moment. What could they possibly need me for up there?

I push up from my desk with a sigh, thinking that it will at least distract me from texting Mackenzie again. The elevator is blessedly empty, and I ride it up to the eighth floor with mild curiosity as I wonder what could have happened, hoping that someone on the reno team didn’t have an accident. Then again, if something did occur, I would have to assume they would bring them down to my floor, not the other way around.

I step off the elevator to more empty space, noting the scattered equipment and tools but the distinct lack of workers. Half the hall lights are off; the overheads seem to be missing several bulbs, giving the entire floor a creepy sort of feel. I wonder idly if I’m being pranked somehow, which irritates me. I huff as I pick up my pace to room 807, preparing to give someone a piece of my mind if they’re wasting my time as some sort of joke at my expense. I know I’m not flush with friends in this place, but really, this is just—

“Mackenzie?”

I grip the handle and cock my head, lingering in the doorway I’ve just opened as I take her in. She’s lounging in one of the medical chairs, one arm resting above her against the headrest and the other twirling one of her scrub pant strings.

“Hello, Doctor,” she says slyly, her mouth turning up at the corners as she flashes me a smile. “I was waiting for you.”

I’m still very confused. “Mackenzie, what are you—”

“They told me you come highly recommended,” she barrels on, cocking an eyebrow at me expectantly. “And I’m feeling so bad.”

I can feel myself frowning as I try to make sense of what’s happening here, but then her scent teases under my nostrils, warm and thick and aroused.

Oh.

Oh.

I swallow, shutting the door behind me and locking it. I’ve never done anything remotely as reckless as what she seems to have planned. The old me would have scolded her for even suggesting it, but right now . . . Right now, all I can think about is the look in her eyes as they roam over me. Like she’s been thinking about me as much as I’ve been thinking about her. Like she wants me. It’s still a novel thing for me, being wanted by someone like her.

“Hello . . . Ms. Carter. What brings you in today?”

Her smile brightens, looking pleased with herself. “I have this . . . ache that won’t go away.”

This is so ridiculous, like something out of a bad porn movie, and yet I can already feel my cock stiffening in my dress pants.

I take a step closer, fisting my hands at my sides to keep from outright pouncing on her, something that is extremely difficult with the way her scent blooms in the air, making my blood heat. “What sort of ache?”

“Mm. That’s the weird thing. I can’t seem to pinpoint it. I was hoping you could help me find it.”

Dear God, this woman is going to be the absolute death of me.

“I would—” I clear my throat, my tongue feeling almost too thick. “I would need to touch you to make a proper diagnosis. Would that be okay?”

“Of course, Doctor,” she practically purrs. “You’re the expert.”

I close the distance between us, my fingers teasing over her ankle bone lightly as I let them slide higher underneath the pant leg of her scrubs. “How does this feel?”

“Fine,” she says, only slightly breathless. “Nothing hurts there.”

I reach tentatively with my other hand to let my fingertips graze the sliver of skin exposed between her waistband and the hem of her scrub top, circling her belly button gently. “What about here?”

“Maybe a little,” she breathes, her lashes fluttering. “I think you’re getting warmer.”

I press a knee on the chair to half cover her, leaning in until my nose can skirt the length of her throat so that I can breathe her in deep. Just the scent of her is enough to make my mouth water. “And here?”

“That’s . . .” I hear her gasp when my lips touch her pulse. “That doesn’t hurt at all.”

“It doesn’t?”

She shakes her head lightly. “It actually feels good there.”

“I see.” I flick my tongue against her skin, reveling in the way she shivers. Knowing that I made her do that. “I’ll have to keep looking.”

“Please, Doctor, make me feel better.”

I smile against her throat, unable to keep from breaking character. “You know someone could come up here, don’t you?”

“This is a hospital, Doctor,” she says coyly. “There are people everywhere. I didn’t think this would be a . . . long exam.”

“Are you telling me to hurry up?”

“I just want to make sure I get the full treatment before your next appointment.”

A breathy laugh escapes me. “I’ll make sure that you do.”

I push her scrub top higher to expose her stomach, watching it rise and fall with each heaving breath. I can’t even decide what I want to do with her—whether I want her on my tongue or my cock or even just my hands. I only know I want to hear her make those sweet noises she makes when she falls apart.

“I’m going to suggest something a little . . . unorthodox.”

She bites her bottom lip. “Oh?”

“I’m going to need you to turn over for me, Ms. Carter.”

“Turn over?”

“That’s right. I want you to get on your knees for me. Put your hands on the headrest.”

I watch her pupils dilate, her scent growing thicker, and I can smell the way she grows slick with the suggestion. “I can do that.”

I help ease her up on her knees, holding her steady as she turns, and when she arches her back to grab hold of the headrest, the perfect curve of her ass pushed out like an offering, I almost lose all my control.

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.

It takes a moment for me to get rid of my pants and coat—I know that making a mess of either will be a dead giveaway to what we’ve done here—but I’m rewarded with a quiet, breathy moan falling out of her when I finally let my cock slide along the crease of her ass. My pre-cum smears against her skin, marking her just like I wanted. A less civilized part of my brain hopes that it dries there. That any other shifter she meets today will smell it on her.

It takes some situating to notch against her; Mackenzie slides down a little further while I dip my hips, and I’m still wholly aware that this is the most reckless thing I’ve ever done, but I can’t bring myself to care in the slightest when the slick heat of her envelops me. I close my eyes as I push inside, focusing only on the sensation of her around me, of the easy glide as her body opens up for me, like it was made for me. Like she was made just for me. Part of me wonders if maybe she was. I can’t decide if that’s my brain or my instincts pondering the idea.

Like this, I can see the way she stretches to take me; I can see myself disappear as I sink further and further inside. I grab her hips to pull her back in a sudden move that forces me all the way inside, and the startled yelp she makes morphs into a low moan that I can feel under my skin.

“You’re so good,” I half slur, feeling that increasingly familiar fog that comes from being deep inside her while surrounded by her scent that drives me mad. “So good for me.” I pull out slowly just to roll back inside. “Always take my cock so well.”

“Noah,” she whimpers, reaching behind to scrape her nails against my thigh in a silent plea.

I know what she wants; she wants me to stop teasing her, to take what she’s offering, but I’ve never been quite myself with Mackenzie. Not like this. This Noah enjoys her begging. This Noah wants to take her apart and put her back together.

“You want more?” I curve my body so that my teeth can nibble at her earlobe. “You called me here, Mackenzie. I want to hear you tell me what you wanted when you did. Tell me how much you wanted my cock.”

“Needed it,” she gasps. “Needed you.”

“You needed me to fuck you? Here? You needed my cock so badly that you couldn’t wait for it?”

“Noah . . .”

I keep rocking in and out of her at a steady pace that I know will offer neither of us any relief, but I’m too far gone to stop. Whatever it is inside me that Mackenzie triggers . . . it’s running the show right now.

“Say it, Mackenzie,” I rasp against her ear. “Tell me you want my cum.”

“Fuck. I want it.”

“What do you want? I need to hear it.”

“I want—ah. I want your cum. Please, Noah.”

“Good girl,” I coo, sliding my hand down her spine as I pull back, some rutting thing inside me preening at her submission. “You sound so pretty when you beg.”

I pull out once more, still that same slow pace that is driving us both insane, lingering at her entrance for only a second before I snap my hips to plunge back inside as she cries out.

“That’s it,” I say on an exhale, my breath catching when I do it all over again. “I’m going to fill up this perfect pussy until you’re overflowing. And you’re going to take it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, her body rocking with the force of my increasing thrusts.

I grip her hips with both hands, my nails biting into her skin as I start to move inside her in a way that feels frantic. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Alpha,” she whines. “Fuck, Noah, I’m—”

“Touch yourself. I want to feel you come with me inside you. I want to feel the way you come apart.”

I can feel it, when her slim fingers graze the base of my cock as it slides inside her over and over. I can feel the rhythm she makes as she swipes at her clit since I can’t reach. A strange part of me is jealous of her hand for being the one to touch her.

“I wish I could knot you,” I grit out. “I want to feel you wrapped around my knot. Wanna feel you full of me.”

Her only answer is a choked sound, but I can feel the flutter of her inner walls around me as each thrust becomes just a little harder, her body tightening impossibly further as I grit my teeth in ecstasy. How can it be so good every time? How can each time seem better than the last?

“Noah, I’m—oh fuck, Alpha, I’m—”

It’s messy when she comes, always so messy—but I love every wet slap of skin, every slick glide of her thighs against mine as I fuck her harder, faster—a pressure building deep, deep inside until it threatens to consume me. My lips part, and my breath heaves from my chest, and everything is hot, so fucking hot, until I—

“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.

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

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