by K B Cinder
“Now?” huffed Monica, spinning in her chair, not hiding the fact she was on her cell phone. Again.
I grabbed my trusty notepad and pen, not in the mood to put up a fight. I was battling a headache all morning and wasn’t in any state to argue.
We followed behind as he led the way to the conference room. We entered the space, and I spied Jason sitting on the far side of the room with his laptop. He didn’t look up as we filed in, the three of us taking a seat in a row with me smack dab in the middle.
Marty set his heaping cup of coffee on the podium and grabbed a marker for the whiteboard, already pouring sweat like nobody’s business. He cleared his throat, looking out at the three of us. “We’re here today to discuss team dynamics. Not everyone is happy with the current arrangements.”
I could all but hear Lee’s hackles raise, readying for battle. She had a hell of a time with Monica when I was out, and I knew Monica complaining to Marty had set her ablaze.
Marty gripped the marker tight, sweat dripping down his forehead. “In our business, we need to work together. There is no room for adversity in a team environment. Some members of the group feel unfairly pressured, and I have sympathy. I, too, feel this way.”
Jason cracked a smile, busying himself with his computer, not giving in to the temptation. I couldn’t help but mirror his smile, admiring his self-control.
“I wanted everyone to clear the air so we can move beyond this road bump,” Marty declared. “Please, let’s share our thought. Monica, the floor is yours.”
She crossed her arms and scowled. “Personally, I find the new system unfair!”
“I think it’s working out just fine,” replied Lee, keeping her cool. “It’s nice to go home on time.”
“Elena?” Marty prodded.
I sighed. “The workload needed to be evened out.”
“You’re probably the one who demanded it!” Monica snapped, whipping to face me. “You’ve always been the favorite!”
“Excuse me?” I laughed. “Me? The favorite?”
Marty all but kissed her ass, never writing her up for blatant laziness or disrespect.
Monica huffed loudly. “You think you’re so perfect! It makes me sick!”
“Good, because you make me nauseous!” shot back Lee, interjecting before I could. “You’re essentially a walking, talking norovirus! No one can stand you!”
“No one can stand you, Trash!” Monica screeched, making me wince with her pitch.
“Really? You are calling someone trash with that attitude?” laughed Lee.
“Yeah, I am! And I will! I don’t have time for people beneath me!”
“Honey, no one is beneath you when you’re already the bottom of the barrel!” Lee shot back.
“Ladies! Ladies! Ladies!” Marty threw his hands up to diffuse the situation, but it was too far gone. Lee was beyond pissed.
I was trapped between the women, blows and hair likely to fly if someone didn’t step in. Lee was on edge the entire time I was out, nearing catastrophic levels of frustration with Monica, who refused to do her own work, let alone mine.
My head throbbed, the acetaminophen I scarfed down with breakfast barely numbing the pain.
“I’m serious! She gets hurt being an idiot, and everyone has to treat her like she’s special! Just like when that guy dumped her! Get the hell over yourself! You’re not important!”
“Enough!” Jason boomed, making us all jump. “This is a place of business, not a high school! Act like it or get out!”
“How dare you speak to me like that!” Monica shrieked, sniffling to get her crocodile tears on. “See! This is what I was talking about! He’s totally unhinged!”
“Enough! Monica, get out!” Jason demanded, standing. “Go down to human resources!”
“But-” she began.
He cut her off, his voice dipping dangerously low. “This isn’t a debate. Get out. Now.”
She couldn’t muster up the crocodile tears she craved, climbing to her feet and slamming her seat forward, rattling the table. “This isn’t over!”
“Fuck no, it isn’t,” Lee muttered under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear. “Wait till I catch that bitch outside of work. I’m going to rearrange her face.”
Monica stomped out of the room, heels clicking until one gave way, sending her toppling over until she caught herself on a chair. Embarrassed, she continued along in uneven steps, slamming the door behind her.
“Are you okay?” Jason asked, looking from Lee to me.
“Yes,” we replied in unison.
He turned to Marty. “She’s a rabid dog in the office, and I won’t have it any longer. Find somewhere to quarantine her, or she’s out for good.
* * *
Monica spent the morning in adult time out, tucked in HR down the hall. Time dragged on, an influx of entries raining down, Lee’s typing drowning out the whispers, most of the office overhearing the argument. I couldn’t wait to hear what victim narrative Monica spun.
It was hard to get into a groove, anxiety weighing, knowing when she reemerged, it wouldn’t be pretty. Regardless of the warnings, she would come out with her verbal guns blazing.
My phone vibrated, clamoring against the metal drawer. I slid a hand in to switch from vibrate to silent, but glanced at the screen first, spying a text from Jason.
Jay: Meet me at Paolo's at 12. I'll pick you up there.
He wanted to do lunch? Uh, not the best idea.
Sounds like you're asking for trouble.
Paolo's was a car wash a few blocks west of our complex. An odd choice for a meetup, but on a rainy day, it was the perfect place to go undetected. Still, it was risky.
Jay: Something like that. See you then.
Regardless of common sense, I obeyed, slipping out to Paolo's at noon, telling Lee I had to run to the DMV, which earned me a “gross” but no prodding. Despite the rain, stepping outside was a welcome breath of fresh air, the office too toxic to stay in any longer.
I pulled beside his SUV in the lot of Paolo’s, took a quick peek around, and scurried into his passenger seat. He was waiting, jaw tight with stress. It was a long week for him outside of the spat with Monica, having traveled to Erie for a convention.
“Hey you,” I breathed, offering a disarming smile.
“Hi, Beautiful.” He reached out and playfully tugged my braid. “I like this.”
“Thanks,” I murmured. “I call it 'woke up late.’”
“I grabbed us some grub,” he declared, pointing to the backseat.
“Really?” Well, that solved the whole where to go problem.
“We can't hit up a restaurant. I figured we'd eat down by the water.”
“It's raining.” More like pouring, but same difference. It made the ride in that morning hell.
“We can eat in the car, Miss Fancy.”
I shrugged. “Sounds good to me. What's on the menu?”
“I picked up the Khao Pad you like from the place around the corner.”
I smiled. “Yum. Thank you.”
“Anytime, gorgeous.” Despite his kind words, his jaw remained taut, even as we hit the road towards our destination. It was enough to leave me squirmy in my seat.
“How's your day?” I asked, hoping he'd relax.
“Complete shit,” he replied, eyes focused on the road. “Yours?”
“Could be better,” I admitted. “I'm sorry yours is so bad.”
“Shit happens.” He was under pressure at a level I'd never understand. He'd never let me see either, staying up far later than I did most nights, still working away on his laptop.
“Want to watch a movie tonight?” I asked.
“Sounds good. Your turn to pick. I’ll be at the office late, so grab some dinner without me.”
“Or I can make dinner at your place?” I offered.
He shrugged as he drove, eyes never leaving the road. “Whatever works for you, doll.”
I’d have to stop and grab stir fry ingredie
nts after work. It was the only dish I made that wowed anyone. After trying the stuff he whipped up from scratch, I couldn’t show up with my go-to casserole.
“You okay?” I asked.
“I’m tired,” he grumbled. “I’m ready to be out of here, you know what I mean? Not from you obviously, but away from the branch. It’s a cesspool of personalities. There are only a handful of people worth keeping around.”
Just thinking of him hours away in Chicago stung, but I couldn’t blame him for wanting to be free of the place. I didn’t know how much longer I could take it myself. The entire building was a pressure cooker, and with Monica’s latest stunt, it would get worse.
“They were mostly hired by Steve,” I noted, reaching out and rubbing his forearm. “It’s only a few more weeks, right? We’re already in November. It’ll be New Years in no time.”
He nodded, blowing out a long breath. “You’ll be free soon too.”
I hoped, but things weren’t trending my way. I received another thanks-but-no-thanks letter, an especially painful one from the position out of Montreal.
I leaned back, closing my eyes, trying to kill the headache that lingered. The tension in the office wasn’t helping it.
I must have dozed off, jarring awake at the crunch of stones as Jason pulled onto a strip of gravel overlooking Cayuga Lake. “Tired over there?” he teased.
I stretched my hands high, smiling. “Someone was awfully chatty last night.”
And he was. He jabbered away until after midnight, filling me in on all the details about NorCon. I fell asleep on the phone with him, likely eliciting all sorts of sexy snorts and groans in my sleep.
He signed Lee and me up for the trip, the three-day event taking place the week of Thanksgiving. It would be a whirlwind of driving to New York City, back to Ithaca, and finally to Vermont for the long weekend.
He grinned, shifting into park and unfastening his seat belt in one smooth motion. “I’m flying to Boston after NorCon for a weekend with my brothers,” he explained, handing me a container of deliciousness. “It’s a tradition. This year it’s Ethan’s turn to host.”
“You cook together?” I asked, smiling. I wondered if they were as handsome as he was, seeing that he was clearly packing sexy genes. If they were, it was a shame I didn’t have any single friends.
“More like I cook, Luke drinks, and Ethan colors,” he chuckled, settling in with his dish of steamed edamame and chicken.
“He colors?” I asked, popping a scoop of rice in my mouth.
“Yeah, he’s an artsy-fartsy type. Talented kid too. It’s a shame he doesn’t do more with it.”
“You would have been a great chef,” I noted, stabbing a shrimp with my plastic fork. “But something tells me the boardroom has always called your name.”
“I always chased high-salary jobs,” he said. “I didn’t exactly grow up rolling in dough.”
I stuffed another scoop of rice in my mouth to avoid the subject. I didn’t know much about his childhood, but I knew it wasn’t pleasant. Like me, he wasn’t one to dish about his problems. I didn’t want to pry, as much as I wanted to know.
“My mother was a drunk, and my father left us. We weren’t stable until our grandparents took us in. Once I was old enough, I was raking leaves for cash or turning in bottles at the recycling plant. I knew if I had enough money, I’d never feel like that again, and so far, so good.”
I nodded in understanding. Growing up, I wasn’t destitute but didn’t have brand new clothes every school year either. Dad did what he could, and I appreciated the hell out of it.
“I have to fly up to Maine this afternoon,” he declared.
Now that wasn’t on his calendar. “Convention?”
“Last-minute invite to a shipyard event,” he said, smiling. “I need to make my rounds and meet with engineers.”
“Sounds riveting!” I teased. Like everything else, he had a knack for product design. I was still waiting for something he was bad at, other than being open. But dammit, he was getting better at that too.
I reached out and gripped his hand gently. “Stop in and see your brother, okay?”
“Already in the works,” he replied, smirking. “Someone’s getting a surprise visit.”
We ate in silence, watching the rain pelt the lake. It was calming, the steady downpour lulling anxieties, chasing away the troubles of the day.
“So...” he trailed, grinning as he plucked my empty container from my hand and tossing it in a bag with his, setting them in the backseat. “I’ve missed you.”
I smirked, recognizing the dip to his voice. “Oh?”
Without another word, he hauled me close, kissing me with a passion I hadn’t felt in weeks. After the fall, he treated me like a porcelain doll, scattering pecks, avoiding temptation, no matter how much I tried to entice him. Now that I healed, that restraint shattered, his hands back to biting into my flesh, his mouth devouring mine.
I followed his lead as he explored me, snaking a hand under my dress, tugging his mouth from mine when he discovered pantyhose blocking access. “Take those fucking things off!” he ordered.
I stared at him for a long moment, trying to discern if he was serious, his burning gaze melting any doubt. I did as I was told, kicking off my pumps and sliding my pantyhose down, careful to not snag them on the interior.
The controlled man disintegrated into desperation, primal needs shredding restraint to satisfy desire, weeks of separation setting us ablaze. We nurtured other parts of our souls but neglected the fundamental need that brought us together in the first place.
“Climb on my lap!” he ground out, rolling his seat back and unbuckling his belt, fumbling with his fly.
I climbed over carefully, thighs wedged between the center console and door panel, barely enough room yet just enough for our bodies to line up perfectly. As I nestled in his lap, finding my home, he hiked my dress up, yanking my panties to the side. I didn’t have time to lower myself before he entered me in one hard thrust.
“Ride me!” He leaned as far back as he could, resting his hands on my hips as I started the rocking he so thoroughly enjoyed.
I had been waiting, denied his touch for too many nights, all but consumed by the flames between us. This was where it all began, this intimate dance, and now that he was mine, I couldn’t wait to see how hot we could burn. He growled, and I was undone, throwing my head back and giving in, rolling my hips to take him over and over.
“You’re so fucking sexy!” he groaned, heavy-lidded as he watched, that sexy jaw clenched in desire.
I couldn't speak, pumping along his length, far too desperate for small talk. There was no need for words. It was strictly physical, a frantic burst releasing a bundle of stress from within us. Work. Pressure. Our secret. It had all been weighing down, and the release was essential to make it through the day. This is what it had always been.
Now he was mine, even if I couldn’t scream it from the rooftops yet. Someday I would. I’d tell every person he was, proudly displaying pictures of us on my desk, showing the world the man I loved.
Fuck.
I couldn’t process the thought as his hands forced me down harder until we drowned out the sound of the falling rain. Getting caught didn’t matter. My feelings didn’t matter. Nothing mattered other than getting a release.
With a grind of his hips, I was there, knowing damn well as soon as I came back down he’d fuck me like never before.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, quickening his pace, pumping in a frenzied rhythm. “So. Fucking. Beautiful.”
I took everything he had, finally giving in, riding over the edge, free-falling into passion. I came hard, muscles trembling from head to toe as my body writhed in pleasure.
Just as I thought, feared, and craved, he pumped in with a relentless rhythm, forcing me to take him. All I could do was cry out with what I had left, clutching his shoulders for dear life as he took what he needed.
He needed me more for than relea
se. It was obvious, just as I needed him for more than sex. We gave each other life again, finding the strength in one another to step out of the darkness.
He came hard, pouring into me, shuddering with his release.
We sat there for what felt like forever, my arms quaking as they looped around his neck.
“I can't get enough of you,” he admitted. “I'll never get enough of you.”
His words sent a tingle through me, but pain came too. I loved him. I loved him, and I couldn’t tell him. The moment I did, I knew he’d bolt.
I sat up and pressed a kiss to his forehead, smiling as he trembled when I lifted off of him. “Good thing I’m yours then, huh?”
He tilted my chin up, kissing my lips. “And I’m yours.”
Jason
“So, according to Ethan – know-er of everything – you’re in love with your girl and in complete denial.”
Little did the bastard know it, but he’d be on the receiving end of a punch to the arm for that one in a matter of minutes. A blow that would make lifting a tool or a woman difficult for days.
And as for Ethan, I’d kick him in the ass when I saw him next. I broke the news I was dating Elena only a few hours before, chatting with him while waiting to board. Good news sure traveled fast.
I landed in Portland two hours earlier and was less than a mile from the bungalow. The car rental agency didn’t have my preferred and paid for SUV, sticking me with a coupe I could barely stuff into. Elena found the selfie I sent hilarious, my head brushing the roof.
Despite not visiting Briar for over a decade, I still knew my way around the curved country roads that led to it. Not much changed, a burger joint popping up on the outskirts of town along with a gas station, likely giving Mr. Levi a headache now that he had competition. That was if Mr. Levi was still alive. God knows he was a fossil when I last stepped foot in the town.
“You’re an idiot,” I muttered, keeping my focus on the road, not even entertaining the thought. I was more worried about moose and deer, the mating season in full swing. Unlike my Range Rover, the tiny compact would crumble on impact, and I’d be toast.