1. Frankie

ONE

Frankie

Tuesday, October 3, 2023

UAB Hospital

1802 6th Ave S, Birmingham

9:04 pm

Alone in the lab, I bend over the microscope, completely absorbed in the delicate patterns the cells form under the lens. That's how I prefer it and avoid coming in during the day if I can help it.

The hours have slipped away unnoticed, and I don't mind one bit. There's something almost meditative about this work—just me, the slides, and the steady cadence of my thoughts.

This newest discovery has me all excited about what this means for my research. I've pored over it for more than an hour now and I still can't get enough.

I jump when I hear the door open with a quiet click. I whip around, not expecting anyone. It's Dr. Hunter Parrish, fresh from the OR, looking like he's just been through hell and back.

His scrub cap is gone, revealing dirty blonde hair that's tousled as if he's run his hands through it a dozen times. His blue eyes have that tired but sharp look I've seen before—focused, intense, self-assured. He's a big deal around here, a cardiothoracic surgeon with a reputation as solid as the square jaw he's currently clenching.

But it's not just his reputation that makes my breath catch. He's not wearing his white coat, and for the first time, I can see the tattoos that cover his muscular arms.

I'm mesmerized by the intricate designs that snake down them. It's a side of him he usually keeps hidden, and the contrast between this inked-up, rugged version of him and the buttoned-up doctor I've seen around occasionally is overwhelming in the best possible way. "Dr. Renna," he says, his voice low and a little rough, probably from hours of barking orders in the OR. "What are you doing here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I reply, managing a smile even though my heart's doing a weird little flutter in my chest. Maybe I'm the one who needs cardiothoracic surgery.

"Long surgery?" I ask casually, or at least that's what I'm aiming for.

He nods, stepping closer to the microscope station where I'm seated. "Transplant. It took longer than expected. I'm just here to pick up some blood work results for my patient before heading home."

I gesture to the computer. "They should be in the system now. I'll pull them up for you." I stand and walk over to the computer and he follows close behind.

As I navigate the lab's database, I'm hyper-aware of his presence next to me. He's close enough that I can sense the heat radiating off him, close enough that I can see the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, the way it contrasts with his usually put together appearance.

God, he's handsome. The kind of handsome that makes you forget how to breathe for a second.

"Here we go," I say, finding the results and bringing them up on the screen. "Looks like everything's in order. I'll put them in MyChart now."

He leans in, scanning the data, and I catch a whiff of him—clean, with a hint of something darker, more earthy, an expensive smelling-cologne that suits him perfectly. "Good," he murmurs, more to himself than to me, it seems. Then his eyes flick to mine, and there's something staring back at me. It's something that wasn't there a moment before. A spark of interest, maybe, or curiosity.

"Do you always work at night?" he asks, his voice softening ever so slightly, like he's genuinely curious. He pulls up a stool next to me and leans in as if we are two old friends catching up. The truth is, I hardly know the man. I just admire him from afar every once in a while when I catch sight of him.

"Not usually," I admit, tearing my gaze away from him to focus on the screen, trying to regain some composure. "I normally work from home, analyzing data from my computer. But this," I gesture to the slide under the microscope, "was too fascinating to stay away from. I had to see it for myself."

He nods, and for a moment, the professional veneer drops just a little. "I get that. Sometimes you just need to be there, see with your own eyes."

I glance up at him again, and there it is—the tattoos, the tired but strong set of his handsome, broad shoulders, the way he's looking at me like he's actually seeing me… Something about him here, the late hour, that no one else is here, makes my my panties wet.

"You should see them," I say before I can think better of it. "The cells. They're incredible. Want to take a look? It's not every day you get to see medical advancement in real time."

He smiles, and it's not the polite, distant smile I've seen him out give a hundred times to patients, or coworkers. It's something warmer, something real. "Sure. Let me see what has you all excited."

Look in the mirror, I want to say. Instead, I move aside as he leans in. I have to resist the urge to run my hands through his messy dirty blonde hair. He straightens up, his interest clearly piqued. "What exactly am I looking at?"

I gesture toward the microscope. "It's cardiac tissue from a patient who's been on the new anti-inflammatory protocol. What you're seeing are the effects of early-stage myocardial infarction—heart attack. I've been tracking the inflammatory markers, and the results are… well, I think they could be groundbreaking."

His eyebrows lift slightly as he bends back down to the microscope. "Groundbreaking, how?"

I love when I meet someone as genuinely interested in this stuff as I am.

"Check out the reduction in inflammation around the damaged tissue. Normally, we'd see a lot more scar tissue forming by now, but with this treatment, the cellular response is completely different. It's almost as if the heart is healing faster, with less permanent damage."

He peers through the lens, and I watch as his expression shifts from curiosity to something deeper. He's more focused, almost reverent. There's a long moment of silence, and I can tell he's processing what he's seeing.

"This is impressive," he murmurs, still staring at the slide. "If this holds up in further trials, it could change the way we handle post-op care for heart patients. Faster recovery times, fewer complications."

"Exactly," I say, my excitement bubbling over. "We're seeing a significant reduction in the markers associated with chronic inflammation. If this pans out, it could mean less long-term damage and better overall outcomes for patients."

He pulls back from the microscope, turning those intense blue eyes on me. "I'm impressed."

His words send a thrill through me, and I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. It's not just the validation from someone like him, someone who's a leader in his field, it's the fact that he genuinely seems to understand how important this could be.

"Thanks," I say, flustered and breathless under the weight of his attention. "I mean, there's still a lot of work to do, but it's exciting, right?"

"Very," he agrees, his voice soft but firm. "You know, I might have to stop by more often, now that I know such amazing research is going down here."

I laugh, shaking my head. "You're always welcome, Dr. Parrish. Just don't blame me if you end up spending all your late nights in the lab."

"I could think of worse places to be," he replies. The teasing note in his voice sends another little thrill through me.

But before the moment goes on too long, he straightens up, all business again. "Seriously, though, I want to stay updated on this. Let me know when you have more data."

"Will do," I promise, watching as he steps back, preparing to leave. He turns to go, pausing for a final last glance over his shoulder. I clear my throat. My awkwardness about how to handle the moment seems like it's flashing like a neon sign, and I want to do anything to divert it.

I'm still reeling from the intensity of our conversation when Hunter turns around, his blue eyes locking onto mine with an unreadable expression. Before I can try to decipher it, he's moving toward me, closing the distance between us with determined strides. My breath hitches as he stops just inches away, his gaze dropping to my lips.

There's no time for second-guessing, no chance to brace myself before his hand cups the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my thick hair. He leans in, and my heart thunders in my chest as his lips meet mine in an all-consuming kiss that's dizzying in its urgency. It's a jolt of pure electricity, igniting a fire within me I never knew was there smoldering.

I return his kiss with equal fervor. My hands find their way to his broad shoulders, clinging to him as the world around us falls away. The spark between us is a living thing, devouring us both with its hunger, and I surrender to it, to him.

Why the hell not?

Hunter's strong hands are on my waist, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us. I can feel the hard planes of his sculpted body as he effortlessly lifts me and places me on the edge of a nearby table. The slide of my bottom against the cool surface through my pants is a stark contrast to the heat radiating from him.

With a swift motion, he clears the table beside me, papers and lab equipment clattering to the floor. I gasp as he kisses me again, deeper this time, more demanding. His tongue sweeps against mine, and I'm lost in the taste of him.

My fingers fumble with the drawstring of his scrub pants, desperate to feel his skin against mine. He helps me, shedding the thin barrier along with his shirt, revealing the masterpiece of tattoos that adorn his chest and shoulders. I trace the lines of ink with my fingertips, marveling at the artistry, the beauty of the man before me.

Hunter's hands slide under my lab coat, sliding along the waistband of my pants and undoing the button. His touch sets my skin on fire. I've never felt so in tune with every sensation.

He breaks our kiss just long enough to remove my coat and pull the shirt over my head. Raking over me with a hunger that makes me yearn to be desired by him, he dives back into my mouth with his.

Leaning in, his lips graze my ear. His voice is a low growl that sends shivers down my spine. "Frankie, you're incredible," he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. "I've wanted you since the moment I walked in here tonight."

I respond with a moan as his mouth finds the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, his teeth nipping at the delicate flesh. My hands explore the contours of his back, the muscles flexing beneath my touch as he grinds against me, the bulge of his arousal unmistakable.

In one swift movement, he unhooks my bra, freeing my breasts, his hands cupping them with a reverence that makes my head spin. His thumbs graze over my nipples, eliciting a gasp from me as they harden under his touch. He captures one in his mouth, his tongue circling the peak, and I arch into him, my body aching for more.

The sound of our ragged breathing fills the room, punctuated by the soft, wet noises of our kisses and the occasional moan. His hand slips between my legs, rubbing against the lace fabric of my panties, and I moan his name, my hips bucking against his palm, wanting more friction, more force.

"I want to devour you," he whispers, his voice hoarse with need. "All of you."

I nod, unable to speak, as he tugs at the waistband of my thong, pulling them down. His fingers trace the length of my inner thigh, teasing, until they find my center, hot and slick with desire.

He groans at the contact, his fingers sliding easily inside me, and I cry out, my body clenching around him. "God, you're so wet," he says, his voice filled with lust.

My response is incoherent. I'm lost in the sensation of his fingers moving inside me, his thumb circling my clit with just the right amount of pressure. With every stroke, the coil of tension within me tightens, and I'm teetering on the edge.

Hunter's gaze holds mine as he adds another finger, stretching me, preparing me for what's to come. With a commanding voice, he says, "I want to hear you come," and the raw need in his words pushes me over the edge.

My orgasm rips through me, pleasure crashing over me as I cry out his name. My inner walls clamp down around his fingers, and he watches me with a satisfaction that borders on smugness. But there's no time for complacency—not when the heat between us is still raging, demanding more.

He pulls his fingers out, and I whimper at the loss. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a foil packet, and I grab his cock, hard and insistent against my thigh. I take the condom from him, and my hands shake slightly as I roll it onto his length.

With a low growl, he positions himself at my entrance. His gaze locks onto mine, teasing me with the tip of his head, rubbing gently on my wetness. "Tell me you want this," he says, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

"I want this," I say, my voice breathy and eager. "I want you, Hunter."

With a groan, he thrusts into me, filling me completely. The sudden stretch makes me gasp, but the discomfort quickly fades into pleasure as he begins to move, each stroke of his massive body sparking new waves of ecstasy.

He sets a relentless rhythm, his hips pounding against mine, the sound of the meeting of our bodies echoing through the empty lab. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting—needing—all of him.

Our bodies are slick with sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex and the sounds of our shared pleasure. Hunter's hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining as he drives into me again and again.

"Frankie," he gasps, his movements becoming more erratic, less controlled. "God, you are amazing. Fuck me."

Another orgasm is building, the pressure coiling low in my belly. "Don't stop," I beg, my voice barely more than a whimper. "Please, don't stop."

His response is a grunt of approval as he increases his pace, his shaft hitting that perfect spot inside me with every thrust. My body tenses, my toes curling as the world explodes. I cry out, my inner walls clenching around him as I come, and it's enough to send him over the edge with me.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside me, his body shuddering as he finds his release. He collapses on top of me, both of us panting and slick with sweat, our hearts pounding in unison.

For a long moment, neither of us speak, too caught up in the aftermath of our passion. Finally, he lifts his head, his blue eyes meeting mine with a warmth that takes my breath away. "You're something else, Frankie Renna."