Page 22 of SKIN

The thing was… I’d studied my girl. Her habits, her routines. Long enough to predict what she would do when presented with any given challenge.

Emily wasn’t attached to her technology. She didn’t scroll her socials all day or spend much time staring at her phone screen. She took all her notes by hand. And she liked to scribble little pictures when she was trying to stay awake. All of which told me she didn’t have any qualms about leaving the device behind if she were to find the battery “surreptitiously” dead in the morning.

Unfortunately for her, not me, a dead battery also meant no alarm. Or secondary alarm, in Emily’s case. And a poor circadian rhythm—paired with a lack of fluids and an increase of vasopressin, melatonin, and oxytocin thanks to multiple orgasms I’d been sure to give her—meant the likelihood of her waking up on time was slim to none.

Odds that were certainly in my favor, considering the sort of display I had in mind after deciding that I wasn’t done with my pet. That it was more than an infatuation and that I wanted to keep her. Lab rat or not.

I’d spent the better part of an hour this morning watching Emily sleep. Enjoying the way her scent mingled with mine. And I wasn’t willing to give any of that up just yet. Maybe not ever. Which gave me more of a reason to ensure she kept part of me with her in class today. Even if that part was mostly an assortment of plasma and dead cells by this point.

Like I said, I knew my girl. Break it down how ever you wanted, it was simple human behavior and probability. When forced to choose between taking care of herself and being late to class, she’d forgo the former and rush out the door. No matter how many meals she skipped the day prior, and even if that meant she was forced to sit in a lecture hall full of people with my dried cum still clinging to her skin.

I smirked at the thought, whistling as I turned the corner, then shoved my way inside room 202, precisely thirty minutes into one of Hughes’s drawn-out rants.

I had a reputation on this campus, long after graduation—one I used to my advantage whenever I found the need. I was a rising star in the medical world after all, a credit to the school. And the administration knew that my success meant more money in their pockets. A shiny new name they could add to all their plaques as soon as my fieldwork hit the medical journals. Until then, I was granted certain privileges. Like sitting in on Emily’s classes. Or, on days like today, interrupting them entirely. Making sure that everyone in this room got an eyeful of me and my pet together.

This was me staking my claim. In front of enough witnesses to ensure the gossip spread hot and fast to the rest of the school with the least amount of effort. Sure, I could have just told a few acquaintances, posted a handful of photos of her half-naked in my bed wearing my old football jersey, but nothing traveled quicker than a little PDA and a whole lot of speculation.

It was also a good lesson for Emily. A reminder to check her battery and not leave her goddamn phone behind. If she was gonna be mine, I expected her to be available. To answer my texts and not leave me on read. It wasn’t too much to ask for everything I planned to give her in return.

My attention, my affection, myself.

30

COHEN

ME:

What are you wearing to class today?

EMILY:

I’m not a doll, Cohen. I don’t need your help dressing myself.

ME:

That’s probably for the best. I much prefer undressing you, babe.

ME:

Don’t wear yellow again. It dulls your eyes. You look better in blue.

Ishoved my phone back into my pocket, not bothering to wait for a reply. I was in a good mood and didn’t want Emily’s attitude to dampen it.

Sure, I appreciated a little brattiness here and there. Shit got my dick hard. But it also got under my skin for as long as it took to finally get her alone and fuck some good sense into that cunt of hers.

And I didn’t have time for any of that today. I’d been missing too many hours during my clinical rotations and people were starting to take notice. Talk. Suggest my head wasn’t in the game.

Of course, they were wrong. Emily might have been a distraction but she also kept me hyperfocused on the end goal. My surgical residency working alongside Dr. Rath. Guy was a sick fuck with a well-deserved ego. Someone who was known to bend the rules. Or so it’d been rumored. I was promised free rein in his operating room—seeing as another thing that was rumored was his affinity for watching.

The first cut into live flesh, the peeling back of muscle tissue, and the last breath. He watched it all. Got off on it. Which was hard to do when you were the one holding the scalpel.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, just as I tossed my helmet on and was about to throw a leg over my bright-yellow bike—because fuck if I didn’t like being seen. I flipped open the face shield and glanced at the screen.

J:

Ten minutes early. Blue dress with yellow flowers. White sweater. No breakfast.

I replied with a thumbs-up emoji, my lips tipped up to one side without meaning to as I navigated to Emily’s name in my contacts and opened our chat thread.

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