Office Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  “Do I look hotter now?”

  “Yes—I mean—”

  I hold up a hand. “It’s okay. Good to know.”

  “If you’re hungry, I made dinner. I added enough real food to cook a few meals to the shopping order.” She smiles, proud of herself. “You may not like it, though. It’s just chicken hotdish. I don’t know how to make your fancy food.”

  Dinner. Eight thirty p.m. I’m not late. I’m really early.

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Casserole’s fine. I may be rich, but I’m a Midwestern boy, born and raised. Jordan has a meal plan now?”

  She crosses her legs on my bed, and when she shifts to do it, the movement exposes the skin of her thighs.

  Standing in front of her in nothing but a robe is torture.

  “No. I helped him grab groceries from a delivery service. Now you have a stocked kitchen. You’re welcome.” Her tongue flicks out for a second, amused at the asinine questions I’m asking.

  You’re killing me, woman.

  “Where is he—Jordan, I mean?”

  “He’s in the guest room now. He was in your sunroom for a while; think he likes it there,” she says. “On his phone like any other teenage boy.”

  “What kind of miracle worker are you?” I growl. “I couldn’t get him to step one foot in a guest room, much less settle in. And I gave him his pick of five rooms.”

  She shrugs. “He took the one off the sunroom. I had Armstrong pick up his games, too. That probably helped. He’s eaten twice now. I think he’s feeling better. His mood’s improved and he’s not so sulky.”

  I sit down on the bed beside her. “How are you so good at this? Do you have a secret baby I don’t know about?”

  “Nope, but Mom’s done that plot like a dozen times!” She laughs. “I don’t know, Mag. I guess dealing with grumps like my dad gave me a lot of practice.”

  “Is your dad grumpy?” I ask, curious. This urge hits me, and I want to know more. I want to know what makes this woman tick. “I thought you had a good relationship with your parents?”

  She beams like the sun. “I do, but that doesn’t stop him from being grumpy.”

  What am I doing with this high school shit?

  Here I am, almost naked next to a beautiful woman on my bed, blundering around for words. There are things I’d much rather talk about than her grumbling father.

  I slip an arm around her waist, coating her cheeks with a new splash of balmy red.

  “Mag?” She smiles at me. “Are you hungry? If you want I can go warm you up some—”

  “Not for food.”

  She giggles into her hand, and I love that fuck-hot heave of her chest as she catches my drift.

  I brush my lips against her cheek, down her chin line, scraping her soft skin with my scruff.

  “Well, since I was so busy cooking, I didn’t get a chance to sample the goods.” She winks at me and stands. “Come on. Let’s eat before we both starve.”

  Fine.

  If I don’t eat baked hotdish, she’ll be offended. I’ll do it because the CEO of HeronComm never disappoints. But damn, this is the part where I’d walk away from a client—not that any client has ever turned my dick into a blueberry sausage like her.

  “I’ll have dinner with you, sweetheart, but first you’re feeding my other appetite.”

  She stands in front of me, her knees against mine. I drag her between them, diving for her lips. But she turns her head at the last second, and our foreheads press together, our breath synced in hurried, shallow rasps.

  “Say please,” she whispers.

  “Touché.”

  “Not the magic word.” She raises her eyebrows. “Say it.”

  “You’re stunning, but I’m not begging for a kiss,” I growl. “You’ll be begging by the end of the night, Brina. I promise.”

  “I’m stunning?” she asks too innocently.

  “You know you are,” I throw back, every inch of my skin electric, so done with these games.

  It must be the right thing to say.

  She moves closer between my legs, clasps the back of my head with her hands, and gives up her lips.

  I fucking devour her, flicking my tongue gently over her lips before I take the full plunge.

  As long as I live, I’ll never experience another woman who tastes this good, this right, this much like a forbidden fruit I’d die for.

  She opens her mouth and slips out a moan just as I slide my tongue in.

  “Mag,” she whines, so ready even her voice sounds wet for me.

  That moan undoes me.

  In a flash, I pull her on top of me. Her knees dig into my hips. Her tongue traces the inside of my mouth, and my fist twines through her hair, giving it a delicious pull.

  My other hand falls, clasping her ass, pinching one delectable cheek until she squeals.

  Fuck.

  She pulls away then and sighs with a playful slap against my arm.

  “Behave. I told you, dessert comes after dinner.” She pushes herself back to a standing position. “That was nice, though.”

  “It’s going to get a lot nicer. And then not nice at all.”

  Her mouth falls open and she grins.

  Sweet hell, I can’t wait to ruin her.

  This night is nothing like I ever imagined the run-up to our first time would be, but I’m past caring.

  Before the dawn comes, I’m going to fuck the soul out of Sabrina Bristol.

  * * *

  I dress in sweats and an old Marine Corps shirt and follow her into the dining room.

  The casserole smells like savory, cheesy goodness. A throwback to times with my grandparents outside the city, who always insisted on home cooking.

  My stomach rumbles like a quake. I was so entranced with Brina’s sweet body I didn’t realize I’m ready to gnaw off my own arm.

  An aluminum baking dish sits on the table and half of its contents are gone.

  Sabrina gives me a strained smile. “Jordan attacked it first. He’s a big eater—or maybe he was just starving because he skipped so many meals.”

  She scoops a huge chunk of casserole onto a plate and hands it to me. I hope I like this. She takes an equal portion and digs in the instant she joins me at the table.

  The aroma smells like heaven—if God needs comfort food—and I can’t remember the last time I had something this simple.

  I shovel a forkful in my mouth and fall back against my chair, smiling as I chew.

  “Mag?” Brina calls out, a hint of worry in her voice.

  “It’s...yeah, you outdid yourself. Best thing I’ve eaten in ages.” Mainly because it tastes exactly like a guilty, creamy hotdish full of cheese-slathered noodles should.

  Brina grins. “Have you had it before? I know I’m not the best cook.”

  “Only a few times,” I say. “My grandmother used to cook like this when I’d visit Geneva, Illinois. I thought I’d lost my appetite for casseroles years ago, but you just resurrected it.”

  “You’re welcome.” She laughs. “What a relief. I wasn’t sure you’d like it. It’s kind of simple for your tastes.”

  I look up, swallowing another heaping bite.

  “You make me sound like an arrogant douchebag,” I grumble. “Dinner doesn’t have to come from a place pecked over by half a dozen food critics for me to enjoy it.”

  She doesn’t say anything, and the silence speaks volumes.

  “Come on.” I smile, setting down my fork. “I can’t be that horrible.”

  “Not when a person gets to know you,” she says. “But you’re a hard guy to get to know.”

  I don’t like that last part.

  Hell, I don’t want to be hard for her to get to know, and I also shouldn’t care.

  Her heels tuck around my leg. The outside of her foot runs up my ankle, sending a flash of heat through muscle.

  My hand drops under the table and I circle her ankle with my fingers, luxuriating in her soft skin. Across the table, her eyes
twinkle with hot starlight and she smiles.

  “You’re pure evil,” I tell her. “You’re the one who dragged me out here for this decadent meal, remember?”

  “Did I, now?” she purrs. “I can’t possibly be crueler than you.”

  This girl.

  I have a terrible vision of Sabrina’s flirting listed as my cause of death on some starched county document.

  “I was more than willing to settle our unfinished business. You insisted on dinner,” I mutter. “That’s downright heartless.”

  She blushes, laughs, and takes another bite of her food.

  Ten minutes later, she finishes her plate and her legs are still in the same spot.

  I’m not letting go, damn her.

  “If I can have my foot back, Mag...I’m going to check on Jordan and respond to a few quick emails. Why don’t you rest?”

  Rest is the last thing on my mind.

  Still, despite the size of this place, it would be prudent to make sure the kid goes to sleep before anything else happens.

  I haven’t finished dinner yet, either, but that could be because I’m mighty distracted caressing the ankle and calf I’m holding hostage. I glide my hand up to her knee, squeeze, and draw small circles with my thumb until I feel her shudder.

  “It’s Saturday night. You don’t have to check your email. The airline work won’t hit its stride until January second.”

  Her eyes close.

  “You’re wrong. See, my boss is a huge tyrant...” Her silly line sounds more seductive than funny when the words come out so light.

  “Check your email in my room?” I make it a question on purpose.

  She hesitated earlier, and if she truly wants to change her mind, I’ll give her the chance. But if she doesn’t...she’ll have a better chance wrestling a grown tiger than keeping me off her.

  “Sure.” She bites her bottom lip.

  My eyes follow her lush, full ass the whole time as she gets up, walks over, and puts her plate in the sink, then heads around the bend in the hall to check on Jordan.

  She’s too sweet for life.

  Brina’s convinced him to do normal fourteen-year-old things like eat.

  Everyday necessities I couldn’t get him to do no matter how hard I tried.

  I might be glued to her ass, her legs to nirvana, her palm-sized breasts, and those bottomless brown eyes, but let’s be real.

  She’s a fucking godsend, and I meant every word when I said I didn’t deserve her.

  I practically inhale the rest of the food whole, and then scarf down what’s left in the pan. I need my strength and I’m ready to be sealed in my room with Brina all night.

  Alone.

  When I get there, she’s sitting in the window seat, typing away on her laptop. I sit down beside her and kiss the crown of her head.

  “Was he okay?”

  “He’s fine. His mom is all he has, you know? This is just hard for him.” She goes quiet, bites her lip, and then says, “But she doesn’t have to be everything. He has you. You’re family, even if you’ve just met.”

  “He hates me,” I point out, trying to hide the fact that I care.

  She shakes her head.

  “No, Mag, I don’t think so. You’re just new and it’s a huge shock to find out you’ve got a missing older billionaire brother. Jordan’s overwhelmed. This is pretty serious stuff. He’s only fourteen. His feelings aren’t written in stone.”

  “I’m trying. I just wish he didn’t want to hack my head off every time we’re together.” My jaw tightens, and I wonder, can I blame him one bit?

  I should’ve introduced myself sooner. Should’ve tried harder to convince Marissa to let me into his life, but after what that sadistic fuck-bag did to her—

  “He doesn’t want you dead.” She looks up from her laptop. “He just doesn’t know you yet, and you’re hard to get to know, remember?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I flash her a tight smile and then relax my face. “You’re a bonafide angel. Somehow, you make everything better—including my doubts over ever seeing eye to eye with this boy.”

  “Wow. A girl could get used to you acting nice for once, you know.” Her smile hits my heart like a shot, especially when her long lashes flutter. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you. The creative team is ahead of schedule with the airline stuff. Their concepts are ready, thanks to Hugo shutting himself up in his room. His wife dragged him to Florida for the holidays and he can’t take the heat. I gave it my approval, but I emailed it to you in case you wanted to make any last minute notes before Mon—”

  Enough.

  Taking a step forward, I close her computer, pull it from her hands, and set it aside.

  “Brina, I don’t want to talk about work. It’s almost New Year’s Eve. I don’t even want to think about it. If you like the mock-ups, then I know they’re stellar.” I pull her into my lap and shift our weight so we’re looking at the skyline. “Tonight, I’m enjoying that view with you. Then we’re going to spend the day together and ring in the new year with everything a little less shitty, you read me?”

  She trembles in my grasp.

  The effect I have on her only makes me want her more.

  “Okay. Sounds nice,” she whispers shyly.

  I turn her in my lap so her lips will be easier to reach. Then I cup her face with my hand, tilt her head back, and bring my lips to hers.

  She wraps her arms around my neck and presses her body closer, teasing every bit of my skin where I can feel her.

  Fuck.

  The want firing in my brain makes me delirious.

  Growling, I kiss her so hard her mouth opens, and I deepen the kiss, claiming her like I’ve always wanted with no doubts, no distractions, and no nerves. Her hands saunter from the nape of my neck upward, into my hair. Fingernails dig at my scalp, and I don’t mind.

  My grip on her tightens, my pulse hammers, and I press her even closer to my chest, folding her around me, needing her right now like my lungs need air.

  She wriggles in my hold, comes up on her knees, and straddles me. Through her panties and my sweats, raw heat tickles my shaft, teasing me with how wet she is.

  She arches her back and presses down with force over the ridge in my pants.

  I let out a sigh and pull myself together, remembering what she liked the night the phone call ripped us apart, the night she should’ve been mine.

  A nuclear bomb isn’t tearing me off her tonight.

  I ease my mouth away from hers to speak, even though it’s torture.

  “I have to kiss you again,” I snarl.

  Her eyes are wide. She nods.

  Just like that, her lips are on mine again, sticky and sweet as a ripe strawberry. Her tongue digs at my mouth, matching my hunger, begging to be taken.

  I’m so fucking happy to oblige.

  In a rough jerk, I bolt away from her lips, trailing hot breath and frenzied kisses down her jawline. I taste every bit of her, exploring every nook and twist of her with my tongue.

  “Mag,” she breathes.

  “I love that sound.” I kiss the top of her neck where it meets her jawbone, and she shudders, grinding her hot pussy against my raging steel through the fabric.

  “Sound?” she moans.

  Yeah. That one. Right the hell there.

  “Your voice when you say my name with need.” I kiss slightly lower then, making her arch, running my hands down her spine.

  My lips attack her neck again, this time with raw hunger, with teeth, with a promise of everything I’ll do to her tonight.

  I open my mouth and draw a small circle in the middle of her neck with my tongue.

  “Oh. Ohhh.”

  Every breathless murmur she makes is my reward.

  I kiss down, down, down to where her neck meets her collarbone, massaging the delicate skin with my tongue, painting my lust on her flesh.

  She grips my hair with her fingers and whimpers again.

  “Magnus!”

  Fuck.

  I
trace a hot, messy line from her collarbone to the top of her cleavage with kisses.

  She presses her soft warmth into me again.

  The clothes need to go, but I can’t fucking rush this.

  Not when I already know I’m about to have the best sex of my life.

  She brings a hand to the top button of her dress, like I need another reminder. Covering her hand with mine, I push it away from her clothes.

  “But—”

  I silence her by unclasping the first button and pressing my lips to the skin underneath. My fingers trail down, popping the next button open. She moans when my fingertips brush the hint of skin slowly being revealed.

  One. Two. Three more buttons and I’m staring at a pale blue lace bra.

  I stop, awestruck and staring at the perfect mounds encased in baby blue.

  “Um, why’d you stop?” she whispers.

  “A dilemma. I can’t decide if I should keep going with the buttons so I can splay this dress open and worship your body. Or if I should slip my hands behind your back, destroy that piece of lace, and devour you.”

  With a sinful smile, she decides for me.

  Her hands slip from my head to behind my neck, and she brings my head to her breast. I kiss and lick just outside the lace, enjoying the way she writhes, grinding against me harder.

  My hands slip behind her back to undo the bra clasp. I work the straps down her soft arms one by one, and when my tongue flicks across the hard point of her nipple, she groans real sweet for me.

  Covering one breast with my hand, I gently caress it with my pinched fingers, and the other with my mouth. Her breaths fall hard and ragged, urging me to lick, to suck, to please until she comes undone.

  Goddamn.

  I’ve wanted this ever since that first day she was in the office. I can’t fathom how I held out this long. I slide my hand down to open the next button and use my mouth to massage where it just left off.

  “Are you—umm—will you—” She sucks in a breath. “Are you going to make love to me tonight?”

  I trace her nipple with my tongue—what’s supposed to be one last time but winds up being more because it’s that addictive. Then I pull away from her.

  “No, sweet girl,” I say, loving how she blinks in surprise. “What I’m about to do doesn’t fall under something as gentle as ’making love.’”