The 90-Day Experiment (The Expiry Date Diaries #1)

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Liam

M y fingers hovered over the keyboard, the screen blurring into meaningless pixels as my mind drifted back to that kiss with Emerson.

Fuck, that kiss.

The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, someone who'd dedicated months to studying desire, breaking it down into its component parts like a chemical equation. Dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin—I could map out the exact neurological pathway of attraction.

But none of that clinical knowledge had prepared me for the reality of Emerson's mouth on mine, for the way her fingers had twisted into my shirt like an anchor, like she needed something to hold onto while the world tilted beneath us. Like I was something—someone—worth holding onto.

A laugh drifted through the lab from one of the privacy rooms, jarring me back to sterile reality.

My screen glared at me accusingly, reminding me of all the data waiting to be analyzed, all the professional boundaries I was supposed to be maintaining.

Every reason why this thing with Emerson was more complicated than a deep-dive analysis.

My brain kept circling back to her like a persistent variable that refused to be controlled. The fascinating contradiction of her drove me crazy: that brilliant analytical mind housed in such a sensual body, the way she wrapped all that passion in rigid methodology.

Christ. I'd worked my ass off to build credibility in this field, spent years maintaining professional distance and academic respect.

Now here I was, acting like some testosterone-drunk freshman instead of the respected researcher I was supposed to be. But every time I tried to redirect my thoughts, they spiraled right back to her like a moth to flame, like an experiment with only one possible outcome.

The lab door opened, and Emerson walked in.

My body responded before my brain could intervene, every nerve ending lighting up.

She was back in her armor of dress pants and crisp shirt, but I could still see the woman who'd pressed against me, wild and wanting.

Our eyes met across the lab. I watched emotion flicker across her face—desire, uncertainty, fear—before her professional mask slipped back into place. But I'd seen beneath it now. Seen the passion she kept carefully contained, the way she fought against feeling out of control.

Just like me.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Morning, Doc.”

"Could you pass me that data set?" Her voice was steady, professional.

But for me, this wasn't just about physical attraction anymore. It was about the way she challenged me, frustrated me, fascinated me. About wanting to know every layer of her, from the brilliant scientist to the woman who'd laughed like a kid on the bumper cars.

“Certainly, Doc,” I replied with a grin, struggling to keep my voice steady.

Her hand brushed against mine as I handed it to her. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through my body, like static shock but infinitely more pleasurable. “Anything else I can… help you take care of?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “Just focus on the task at hand.”

And I tried to focus. Really, I did.

But my mind kept wandering back to Emerson’s lips, the softness of her skin, the intoxicating way she made me feel.

She was right fucking there, looking like every fantasy I’d ever had. And for the first time since I’d laid eyes on her, there was a chance I might actually be able to do something about it.

You know, if the mixed signals she was sending didn’t kill me first.

As we kept working, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, like an invisible force pulling us closer with each second. My fantasies got more vivid, more demanding. Pushing Emerson against the wall, kissing her hard among the beeping machines and flickering screens.

The thought was so real that I lost track of what I was doing and knocked over a stack of papers, sending them flying everywhere. “Shit.”

Emerson crouched down to gather the scattered papers.

I joined her, our bodies bumping against each other as we tried to collect the mess. The contact, innocent yet electrifying, made my pulse race.

I tried not to look—it wouldn’t be gentlemanly—but fuck, I couldn’t help it. I caught a glimpse down her shirt at her sexy, lacy bra, the sight sending another jolt through me. When I looked up, Emerson’s face was inches from mine, her eyes wide with surprise and… something more tantalizing.

Time stood still as we gazed into each other’s eyes, the air heavy with desire.

Her breath hitched slightly, and I could see the conflict in her eyes—the struggle between keeping things professional and giving in to the chemistry between us.

“Liam,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the machines.

“Doc,” I replied, my voice rough with longing.

We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, our faces so close I could feel the warmth of her breath on my lips. The world around us faded away, leaving just the two of us in our little bubble.

Her eyes flicked down to my lips, and for a heartbeat, I thought she might close the distance between us.

But the moment was shattered by the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the sterile hallway, approaching the lab. Emerson and I sprang apart as if we’d been caught committing a crime, smoothing our clothes and wiping the guilty looks off our faces.

But I could still feel the ghost of her breath on my skin, the echo of her gaze on my lips.

Dr. Jensen, our well-meaning but chronically unobservant colleague, strolled into the lab. He was blissfully unaware of the electric charge and oblivious to the fact that we had been seconds away from diving headfirst into a very unprofessional situation.

“Dr. Grant, can I get your opinion on this data set?” Dr. Jensen asked, holding up a stack of papers that looked like they could double as a doorstop.

“Of course, Dr. Jensen,” Emerson replied smoothly, her voice transitioning from sultry to strictly business with a finesse that left me both impressed and slightly envious.

How did she manage to affect me so much, yet remain completely in control of herself?

As Emerson and Dr. Jensen delved into a discussion about regression analyses and correlation coefficients, I tried to regain my composure, willing my heart rate to slow down from its hummingbird pace.

Emerson stood there, a picture of calm and collected intellect, discussing intricate details of our project with Dr. Jensen. Her voice, smooth and confident, filled the room—a stark contrast to the chaos she had just stirred inside me.

Dr. Jensen finally left, still blissfully ignorant of the sexual forces that still hung in the air. Emerson turned her attention back to me, an amused smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Swallowing hard, I tried to ignore the way my body reacted to her proximity. My pulse quickened as she leaned over me to reach a piece of equipment, her breath tickling my ear in a way that made it hard to think about anything other than how much I wanted to taste those lips again.

As she pulled back, our eyes locked, and for a moment the world stopped.

“Are you blushing, Liam?” she asked, her tone teasing but her eyes serious.

I swallowed hard, the heat creeping up my neck and settling on my cheeks. “Maybe a little,” I admitted, trying to play it off but failing miserably.

She laughed softly, the sound wrapping around me like a silk ribbon. “It’s a good look on you,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

God, the things I wanted to do to her. It was all I could think about. The lab, usually a place of cold, clinical precision, was a pressure cooker ready to explode.

I watched her focus on the data, her brow furrowed in concentration, and it struck me just how deep I was in over my head.

This experiment of ours—this "controlled study"—had a ticking clock. Ninety days. The number echoed in my head like a countdown.

Ninety fucking days, and we'd already burned through seven of them.

The thought settled in my gut like lead. Three months to explore whatever this was between us, to map every curve and angle of her body, to discover all her secrets.

It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

And that terrified me more than any failed experiment ever could.