Chapter 9
KATE
“Dr. Ellis, this is the second incorrect measurement you’ve made in the past hour.” Dr. Barnes’ crisp voice cut through my Austin-filled daydream like a scalpel. “Is there a problem with the equipment, or perhaps with your attention span?”
I blinked rapidly, heat rushing to my cheeks as I stared at the bacterial culture I’d nearly ruined. “Sorry, Dr. Barnes. I must have miscalculated the dilution.”
“Clearly.” Her piercing gaze made me squirm. “I don’t need to remind you how competitive this fellowship is. There are a dozen qualified candidates who would gladly take your place if you’re finding it difficult to focus.”
“It won’t happen again,” I promised, straightening my lab coat with as much dignity as I could muster while my mind unhelpfully replayed images of Austin’s mouth on my breast.
Dr. Barnes nodded curtly before moving on to inspect Brian’s work. The moment her back was turned, I let out a silent groan and pressed my forehead against the cool surface of the lab table.
What was happening to me? I’d never let personal distractions interfere with my work before. But then again, I’d never had six feet three inches of muscular hockey player doing wickedly delicious things to my body before either.
“Rough day?” Brian asked, sliding over to my workstation with a sympathetic smile.
“Just tired,” I lied, reaching for a clean pipette.
“I was thinking,” he continued, lowering his voice, “maybe we could grab dinner sometime? There’s this great Thai place near campus.”
I looked up, genuinely surprised. Was Brian asking me out? The old Kate would have stuttered through an awkward rejection or worse, agree out of social obligation. But something had shifted inside me.
“That’s really sweet, Brian, but I’m actually seeing someone,” I said, the words flowing naturally.
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh! Lucky guy. Someone from work?”
“No, he’s a hockey player, actually.” The words felt strangely right in my mouth.
“Seriously? Like, NHL?”
I smiled, unable to contain a surge of pride. “Minnesota Blizzard. He’s a defenseman.”
Brian let out a low whistle. “Wow. That’s...unexpected.”
“Story of my life lately,” I muttered, turning back to my samples.
By the time I finished my work—triple-checking every calculation to avoid further errors—it was nearly seven in the evening. I packed up my notes, sending one last email to Dr. Barnes with my corrected data before heading home.
Home. The word felt different now. Not just a temporary crash pad in Austin’s apartment, but somewhere I actually wanted to be. Somewhere with Austin.
When I unlocked the door, the apartment was quiet except for rhythmic grunting sounds coming from the living room. I dropped my bag and followed the noise, curious.
The sight that greeted me stole the breath from my lungs.
Austin was on the floor, shirtless and glistening with sweat, performing what looked like modified push-ups with his injured leg carefully positioned.
Each movement made the muscles in his back and shoulders ripple beneath his skin like a perfectly choreographed dance.
His dark hair was damp with exertion, and his jaw was clenched in concentration.
Instead of announcing my presence, I leaned against the doorframe, shamelessly enjoying the view. This was better than any anatomy textbook I’d ever studied.
After a moment, he sensed my presence and looked up, raising one eyebrow when he caught me staring. “See something you like, Dr. Ellis?”
“I’m conducting a scientific observation of human musculature,” I replied with mock seriousness. “For research purposes only, of course.”
A slow smile spread across his face as he sat back on his heels. “And your professional assessment?”
“Fascinating specimen,” I said, pushing off from the doorframe and walking toward him. “Though I might need a closer examination to form a complete opinion.”
“Is that so?” His voice dropped to that lower register that made heat pool between my thighs. “And what kind of examination did you have in mind?”
I knelt beside him, my lab coat still on, my hair escaping from its once-neat bun. “I was thinking something hands-on. Very thorough.”
Austin’s eyes darkened as I reached out to trace a finger along his collarbone, collecting a bead of sweat.
“Your scientific method seems unorthodox, Dr. Ellis.”
“The best discoveries often come from unconventional approaches,” I murmured, leaning closer until I could feel his breath on my lips.
Austin leaned in, his lips just a breath away from mine when my phone rang with a shrill, persistent tone that I instantly recognized as my “Dr. Barnes Emergency” ringtone.
“Fuck,” I groaned, pulling back. “I have to take this.”
His eyes flashed with amusement. “I’ve never seen you move so fast away from me before.”
“Trust me, it’s not by choice.” I fumbled for my phone, hitting the video call button with a silent prayer that whatever lab crisis had erupted could be solved quickly.
Dr. Barnes’ stern face filled my screen. “Dr. Ellis, we have a situation with the resistant strain cultures. The overnight incubation is showing aberrant growth patterns that don’t match our projections.”
“Aberrant how?” I asked, immediately switching to professional mode despite Austin’s distracting presence just inches away.
“The colony morphology has changed significantly. I need you to review the time-lapse imagery I’m sending now and determine if we need to adjust the antibiotic challenge protocol before morning.”
I nodded, trying to focus as Austin silently rose to his feet behind me, stretching his arms above his head in a way that displayed every rippling muscle in his torso. The movement caught Dr. Barnes’ attention.
“Am I interrupting something, Dr. Ellis?” Her voice could have frozen lava.
“No! Not at all,” I said quickly, angling the phone away from Austin, who now wore a devilish grin. “I was just...reviewing some anatomical research.”
Austin snorted quietly, and I shot him a warning glare.
“I see,” Dr. Barnes replied, clearly not believing me. “Well, if you could tear yourself away from your...research...I need your input on this urgently.”
“Of course. Let me get my laptop.” I moved to the kitchen counter, spreading out my notes while trying to ignore Austin, who had followed me and was now deliberately flexing while reaching for a glass in the cabinet.
As Dr. Barnes began explaining the growth anomalies, Austin positioned himself just behind my laptop, visible to me but out of the camera’s view. He raised an eyebrow challengingly before slowly, deliberately licking his lips.
My voice caught mid-sentence. “The beta-lactamase inhibitor should prevent—” I swallowed hard as Austin silently mouthed what looked suspiciously like, “I want to taste you again.”
“Dr. Ellis?” Dr. Barnes prompted. “You were saying about the inhibitor?”
“Right. Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “The inhibitor should prevent the resistance transfer, but if we’re seeing colony changes, we might need to increase the concentration.”
Austin chose that moment to take a long drink of water, his throat working as he swallowed, a drop escaping to trail down his neck and over his chest. The memory of my tongue following a similar path last night flashed vividly in my mind.
“Dr. Ellis, are you unwell?” Dr. Barnes asked sharply. “You look flushed.”
“I’m fine,” I squeaked, then coughed to lower my voice. “Just a little warm in here.”
“Perhaps you should adjust your thermostat,” she suggested dryly.
Behind my laptop, Austin was now silently mouthing, “You’re so fucking sexy when you talk science,” while his hands made obscene gestures suggesting exactly what he wanted to do to me after the call.
“The thermostat isn’t the problem,” I muttered, then quickly added, “I mean, yes, I’ll adjust it. Now, about those growth patterns—”
I forced myself to stare at the screen, focusing with every ounce of willpower on the images Dr. Barnes was sharing. But Austin wasn’t done with his torment. He moved silently beside me, still out of camera range, and held up a small notepad just where only I could see.
In bold, unmistakable handwriting, it read:
I can’t stop thinking about how wet you were for me last night.
The heat that surged through my body was instant. I nearly knocked over my water glass, scrambling to recover as Dr. Barnes’ eyebrows shot up at my sudden clumsiness.
Austin calmly lowered the notepad and gave me a wicked smirk, like he hadn’t just detonated my last shred of composure.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, righting the glass. “Something...startled me.”
“As I was saying,” Dr. Barnes continued, clearly losing patience, “we need to adjust our protocol immediately if we want to salvage these cultures.”
I nearly jumped as Austin’s hand rested lightly on my lower back, hidden safely below the camera’s view. His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles against my spine, sending electric currents straight to my core.
“What if we introduced a second antibiotic class?” I suggested, desperately trying to sound intelligent while Austin’s other hand slid along my thigh beneath the table, his thumb slowly caressing the sensitive skin there.
“Interesting approach,” Dr. Barnes mused, oblivious to my torment. “Which class would you recommend?”
Austin’s fingers tightened gently, gripping my thigh just firmly enough to scatter my thoughts completely.
“Aminoglycosides,” I managed to say. “They have a completely different mechanism of action, so the existing resistance wouldn’t protect against them.”
“Excellent thinking, Dr. Ellis. That might work.” Dr. Barnes nodded approvingly. “I’ll prepare the new media tonight. Please be in the lab by seven tomorrow to check the results.”
“Absolutely,” I agreed, praying the call would end soon before I embarrassed myself completely.
Austin’s hand moved upward slowly, just enough pressure to send heat flooding through my body, making my toes curl in my shoes.