Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Emerson
W hen we finally collapsed onto the couch, I fixed my eyes on the ceiling, counting the tiny imperfections in the paint. Anything to avoid looking at him.
I tried to rationalize it. The orgasm—that was simple. Clean. Scientific. Just a cascade of hormones triggering muscle contractions, sending electrical signals through nerve endings. I could map every chemical reaction, name every neurotransmitter involved.
But there was something else... a feeling that defied analysis. It didn't fit into any of my neat, categorical boxes. This warm, gooey feeling spreading through my chest like someone had replaced my blood with hot chocolate? Not in any textbook I've ever read. And trust me, I've read them all.
Liam turned to me then, and his eyes—God, his eyes. They were soft, hazy, full of something I didn't want to think about naming.
When he brushed the hair from my forehead, barely touching me, something shifted. Like tectonic plates moving under my skin, rearranging my entire world in slow motion. The warmth in my chest wasn't just warmth anymore – it was something bigger, scarier, something that felt suspiciously like...
Oh.
Oh no.
Oh SHIT.
My heart started doing this weird arrhythmic thing that definitely wasn't in any medical textbook. Because this wasn't just attraction or chemistry or whatever safe little box I'd been trying to stuff these feelings into. This was?—
Nope. Absolutely not. This was just skin cells meeting other skin cells, just neurons firing like they were supposed to. Except my traitorous brain kept screaming that it felt more like he was performing open-heart surgery with his fingertips, dismantling every defense mechanism I'd ever built, and I was letting him do it.
I was LETTING him do it.
The panic hit me like a triple shot of espresso straight to the bloodstream. My pulse went from "slightly elevated" to "maybe I should call a cardiologist" in about three seconds flat.
"Are you okay?" His voice was barely above a whisper, and goddammit, why did he have to be so gentle? So caring? It would be so much easier if he was just an asshole.
"Yeah, I'm good." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. "Just need to catch my breath."
My body went into full flight mode before my brain could file the proper paperwork, my feet hitting the floor and speed-walking to my bedroom, heart hammering against my ribs. My hands wouldn't stop shaking as I fumbled for my robe like it was a hazmat suit that could protect me from these unauthorized feelings.
Feelings. God. Even the word made my throat close up like I was having an allergic reaction to vulnerability.
I could feel Liam's eyes on me as I came back into the room, tracking my movements. The weight of his gaze felt physical, like a touch I couldn't escape.
I should have been better at this. It should have been simple—just bodies meeting a basic biological need. Clean. Uncomplicated. I'd done it before, kept things clinical and detached.
A perfectly good, scientifically sound system that worked great until Liam showed up and started making me want ridiculous things like sharing takeout and having someone to drunk-text about quantum mechanics and?—
My phone buzzed, and Nielsen's name popped up on my phone. The funding. My career. Everything I'd worked for—years of late nights, missed holidays, relationships sacrificed on the altar of academia—all of it balanced on the edge of a knife because I couldn't keep my hormones in check.
Because I'd let Liam make me feel things. Stupid, messy, complicated things that had no place in a proper scientific methodology.
It’s just chemicals, I told myself. Just dopamine playing pinball in my brain. Oxytocin throwing a rave in my nervous system. Vasopressin being a little drama queen about pair bonding. That's it. That's ALL it is.
My hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped Liam’s clothes twice while collecting them. They felt radioactive in my hands, like they were giving off some kind of emotional contamination.
"You should probably get dressed," I managed to say, not quite looking at him.
I felt rather than saw his confusion, the way his body stiffened. It made my chest ache, but I pushed it down. This was for the best. Distance was safe. Distance was necessary.
He dressed quickly, but then he just stood there, waiting, and the silence stretched between us like a living thing.
When he leaned down to kiss me goodbye, I kept it brief, clinical. Any longer and I might have fallen back into that dangerous warmth, that false sense of connection.
"I'll see you at the lab," I mumbled, studying the floor pattern like it held the secrets of the universe.
The sound of the door closing behind him felt too final, too heavy. But the logical part of my brain had to win this fight. Had to stay in control.
There was no other choice. No other safe option. Because the alternative? That way led to madness. And failure. And pain.
And I couldn't afford any of those things. Not now. Not ever.
Numbers. Data points. Variables. I stared at my research notes until the figures blurred together, willing them to consume me completely. Each equation felt like a rope I could cling to, anchoring me in the familiar territory of logic and control.
Jasper's voice echoed in my head: "We need results, Emerson. Concrete, groundbreaking results." Pressure sat heavy on my shoulders, weighing down every breath.
The door to the lab opened, the sound cutting through my concentration, and before I could stop myself, my eyes darted up.
My heart lurched traitorously at the sight of him, two coffee cups in his hands. The rich aroma hit me as he set one down, and memories of last night flooded back unbidden—his touch, his taste, the way he'd made me feel...
No. Stop.
"Morning, Doc." His voice was soft, careful. "You want to talk about what's going on?"
I grabbed the coffee like a shield, holding it with both hands until the paper cup burned through to my palms. Anything to distract from the way his presence made my skin prickle with awareness.
Don't look at his eyes. Don't look at how the morning light catches the aqua flecks in them, or how his concern makes them soften at the edges.
"Nothing's going on." The words felt like chalk in my mouth. I forced myself to focus on the stack of papers in front of me, on the meeting ahead. Safe topics. Professional topics.
"Just focused on preparing for this meeting with Jasper. Speaking of which, could you compile the latest data for me to review?"
I heard his heavy sigh, felt the shift in the air between us. Made the mistake of glancing up just in time to see hurt flash across his features before he smoothed it away, tucking it behind professionalism.
"Of course. I'll get right on that." His eyes caught mine again, and God, there was so much in that look. So many words unsaid. "If you need anything else, just let me know."
My smile was brittle, like it might crack my face. "Thanks."
When he turned away, my shoulders slumped. I hadn't realized how tense I'd been holding myself. The cup trembled slightly in my hands, and I set it down before he could notice.
I didn’t know how to explain that this shift wasn’t because I didn’t care, but because I cared too damn much. And that the work at the lab was just too important to risk messing up. Fuck, why did every centimeter of distance I put between us feel like I was trying to tear off my own skin?
I pushed away a niggling thought that deep down, the real issue might be that I was simply scared shitless.
The weight of what I had to do pressed on my chest, making it hard to breathe, my stomach churning with a mix of dread and inevitability, like I needed to puke and cry at the same time.
I tried to focus on my work, but the anxiety was like a mosquito I couldn’t swat away. Every time I glanced at my phone or saw Liam across the lab, a fresh wave of nausea hit me.
Something had to give. The project was too important—Jasper’s expectations, potential breakthroughs, all those endless hours of research.
It all hung in the balance.
Every time I pictured Liam’s face—the way his eyes lit up when he smiled, the way he looked at me like I was the most fascinating thing in the world—my heart broke a little more, and I had to keep reminding myself none of it was real.
This was the price of ambition. The sacrifices, the hard choices, the relentless pursuit of something greater. I had always known that.
I just hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.