Page 89 of Altius
“What? Your office is exceptionally well-equipped for telecommuting,” he said, perching on the side of the bed.
He pulled on a pair of latex gloves, ripped open an alcohol wipe, and cleaned a portion of my upper arm.
“One of us has to ensure Tabitha keeps her ass-kicking boots on the university president’s neck,” Cal added, reaching for the thermometer in the supply basket. He gave Owen a few pointers while taking my temperature. “Yes, there. Have the cotton ball and bandage ready.”
“Have you done this before?” I couldn’t help but ask Owen. The man had a master’s and a PhD in bioengineering, which, while impressive, didn’t require any medical skills.
“Of course.” He administered the aphrodisiac with a steady hand. “Knee surgery aftercare.”
I glanced at Cal, who was more interested in checking my hormone levels on his phone than in our conversation.
It was a shame they hadn’t become packmates years ago.
“Your temp dropped. Not enough to break your heat, but it’s not helping, either.” Cal scrolled through the latest readings. “But your hormone levels are good. Elevated but stable.”
His fingers drummed against the side of the phone case before looking at Owen. “Know any studies on the impact of antidepressants or other prescription drugs on heat cycles? She should have tipped over by now.”
“Tell me about it,” I grumbled while Owen applied the bandage.
“Not sure. I’ll have my assistant run a query.” Owen stood up, unaware that I was at the perfect angle to admire the exquisite tailoring of his suit pants—along with his toned thighs and ass.
Smolderingly hot nerd alert, my inner Jacobi announced, like a horny fairy godfather, then started prattling on about roleplay possibilities.
Imagine Wyatt, the dashing prince in his cape and crown, and Owen, the sinister grand duke dressed in a dashing black ensemble, vying for the love of the medical kingdom’s princess, doing unspeakable things to her in the throne room…
A giggle slipped out.
Horrified, I grabbed Cal’s waist. “How much did you give me?”
“Enough.” His knot eased, allowing him to shift down and look me in the eye while his thumb stroked my cheek. “You’re feeling it already?”
The asshole was studying my pupil dilation. This wasnotthe lowest dose of aphrodisiac.
Incensed, I demanded, “What happened to Baby Bear?”
Owen snorted, dropping the latex gloves into the trash by the mini fridge. “That wasn’t the nickname I’d expect your girlfriend to choose, but—”
“Not me, you asshole,” Cal said with a scowl. “The dosage.”
“If you say so.” Owen retrieved the tray of medical items, sneaking a look at my tits before heading for the door. “Call me if you need somethingelse, Morgan.”
I gawped at his retreating back—and butt—then turned my head back toward Cal. The big, beefy idiot dared to smile at me, loving every second of watching my control crumble in real time.
“Did he just…?”
“You made the rookie mistake of thinking the tsunami of research papers was an apology. That was Owen’s version of flirting.” He rubbed the tips of our noses together, laughing all the while. “He might be your backup, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “He didn’t Papa Bear me, did he?”
“No. I decided to go with the middle option: Mama Bear. Figured it would tip you fully into heat without being overkill. Which saves Baby Bear if you start running on fumes before your heat breaks.”
A fresh cramp wracked my core, sending my hands scrambling for flesh. His biceps, his hips, his ass, anything male and naked would do.
“Cal—Cal, I don’t like this. Don’t feel like myself. Like I’m not all there.”
“That’s the point, sweetheart.” His kiss was too considerate, too reassuring.
I wanted passion. Ravishment.
