Work Violation

by BJ Harvey

  When we’re finally spent, she rolls onto her side, collapsing against me with a kiss to my chest. “Such a good morning,” she says with a smile against my skin.

  I look over at her, my eyes hooded, my body so relaxed I have doubts I’ll ever be able to walk again.

  And we didn’t even go the whole hog.

  That would’ve damn near killed me. Again.

  I roll onto my side so we’re facing each other. Moving her leg over mine, I glide my hand up and down her thigh. “I really did want to take this slow.”

  “Slow is overrated,” she says, brushing her lips against mine. “And that was so much more fun.”

  When she tries to move away, I press a hand between her shoulder blades and hold her there, staring into her addictive blue eyes. “You make it so hard to be good.”

  “Sometimes being good is overrated,” she says with a mischievous grin.

  I cup her jaw. “I meant what I said. I won’t be inside you again until I know you’re mine.” I tangle my fingers in her rumpled hair and kiss her again, this time deeper, longer, and full of everything I’m feeling in this moment, hoping like hell I’m not the only one falling harder than I ever have before. It’s like the year of avoiding her was the most prolonged foreplay of my life and now that I’ve had her, my body is catching up with my heart.

  When we finally pull apart, she settles back down on my chest and we lie there in satisfied silence. She runs her hand up and down my chest.

  “Can I ask you something?” I say, looking down to look at her.

  “Anything.”

  “Why did you go back to school?”

  “How much did April tell you?” she asks, her lips tipping up. Ah, sprung!

  “That you flew the coop and escaped the locked family cage of expectation.”

  Lifting her head, she quirks her brow at me. “She said that?”

  My lips twitch. “Not exactly.”

  She smiles and drops back down, settling in again. “Well, eighteen months ago, I chose to take the bull by the horns and quit my job, sever professional ties with my somewhat overbearing parents, and take a bet on myself.”

  “Kind of like what Jamie did with this house-flipping business.”

  “Yeah,” she says softly. “Probably why I like the guy.”

  “Then I’m lucky he’s taken, and you chose me.”

  “Well, there are two of you, remember,” she says, a smirk curving her lips. “But I was drawn to you almost instantly. There was something there that I couldn’t ignore.”

  “I was just the idiot who thought I should ignore it.”

  “And how do you feel about that decision now, Ken?”

  “Pretty fucking stupid.”

  “I agree,” she says with a laugh.

  “So, you left your job, your career…”

  Her fingers roam my skin mindlessly as she continues. “Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been artistic. The creative side of my brain was always more dominant, and despite this being glaringly obvious to my teachers as I moved through school, it was drilled into me that Nelsons worked hard to get into Harvard Law. ‘Oh, you’re top of the class in Art and Design; that’s okay. It’ll look good in your law school application.’ ‘You’ve painted an amazing mural on your bedroom wall while we were away? That’s cute, and a good way to channel your teenage rebellion.’ That sort of thing.”

  Not wanting to interrupt her, I continue to rub her back, enjoying the closeness and intimacy of the moment.

  “I even managed to talk my parents into letting me complete a conjoint Arts and Business degree before Harvard. The only certainty and indisputable part of the equation was that I must go to Law school regardless.” She pauses for a moment. “I continued my dutiful daughter role, working for my father’s firm here in Chicago when I came back from Boston. But I was never fulfilled like I was whenever I did something like paint, or sketch, or muck around with photos and designs on my computer.”

  “It was your passion.”

  She nods. “After lulling me into a false sense of acceptance, they started pressuring me to settle down with someone, I think that was the last straw. I felt suffocated and was desperate for fresh air.”

  “You’re strong and needed room to be you.”

  I dip my head and meet her gaze. “How can other people see that yet my own parents never could? They still can’t.”

  I cup her jaw, sweeping my thumb over her cheek. “Because anyone who takes the time to get to know you—to see the real you—will only ever want you to be happy. Whatever you need to do to get there.”

  “I’m going to be me.” She takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. “My father has still not accepted nor forgiven me. We’re cordial, but our relationship has never been sunshine and roses, and probably won’t be again.”

  “I’m sure your parents love you.”

  “My father only cares about success, money, and appearances,” she says, her tone laced with bitterness. Breathing deep, she exhales slowly and the tension leeches out of her.

  “So, having taken back my life and feeling a sense of freedom I hadn’t had before, I embarked on the most important project of my life—becoming who I was always meant to be.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I started with a month-long holiday in Bali with a lot of soul-searching, yoga, meditation, and cocktails on the beach, then a few self-discovery pilgrimages through Europe where I came up with a plan.”

  “Going back to school?”

  “Yeah. Graphic design, graduate marketing classes, and photography—which you already know about. Once I finish, I’m going to intern for a few of my old legal clients who have stuck by me, and then work for myself.”

  “Mm-hmm,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “That sounds like a very good plan.”

  “And that brings me to now, sleeping with a man I never knew would end up being my professor, but not wanting to be anywhere else—in life or in this bed.”

  She looks up at me, her eyes glistening, and in this moment, I know I’m done for. She owns me; whether she knows that yet, I’m not sure. She didn’t even need to try and work her way into my heart because I think she’s had me since that first day I met her in the driveway.

  She must see something in my expression. Her lips part and, unable to resist, I dip down and kiss her, a soft, languid touch that has her body melting against mine. She sighs contentedly, leaning her cheek on my shoulder, our faces still close.

  “I’m happy,” she says, lifting a hand to run her fingers through my hair. “I thought I was before, but I think I was missing one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Not what, but who.” She swallows hard, closing her eyes for a second before opening them again and staring straight into mine. “I think I was missing you.”

  My heart jumps, “Damn… how do you expect me not to want to make love to you now that you’ve said that?”

  “Wishful thinking?”

  “We need to get out of this bed. Somewhere public where I can’t jump you.”

  “You sure about that?” she says, bracing herself on one arm and hovering above me.

  I lift my head, knowing exactly what will happen if I kiss her again. I get to within an inch of her lips before ducking underneath her arm and rolling off the bed, chuckling as she drops back onto the mattress with a frustrated growl.

  I stop and lean against the doorframe. “C’mon, Barbie. I’m taking you on an adventure.”

  She lifts her head and quirks a brow, biting her lip, and it takes everything in me not to rejoin her again. “Adventure?”

  “Just to a few vintage building shops and a recycling plant. Nothing too exotic. I’ll leave you to get dressed and I’ll go make us coffee. We can call by your place on the way if you want to change clothes.”

  “It better be better than sex,” she grumbles. “Otherwise you owe me another orgasm.”

 
; This time, I grin. “That’s a debt I’ll happily pay. Now get up, and I’ll see you downstairs.”

  “Clit tease,” she mumbles.

  I leave the room and make my way downstairs, laughing as I go.

  Jax

  Two weeks of juggling classes, office hours on-campus, and working on the pink lady, and I’m running on empty. I’ve also never felt so alive. It’s a contradiction I never thought I’d ever feel, but I think it’s the kick in the ass I needed to get me out of the Groundhog Day rut I had found myself in.

  I’ve seen Ronnie in class, and last Thursday, she knocked on my door at the end of office hours and together, we broke our own rule about keeping our relationship private in public. It was behind my closed door, but risky all the same. I managed to somehow keep it PG, purely a make-out session with Ronnie’s back flat on my desk. But the temptation to take her then and there was real and very hard to resist. Thankfully, that Chelsea girl didn’t say or act any differently from any other student. But I’m not naïve enough to believe she isn’t a potential threat. Then she surprised me by taking me out to dinner at my favorite burger joint, something she confessed she’d found out by ringing Bryant. It made me feel good and was definitely a sign that we are on the right path to where I want to be.

  I can’t think of that right now though because tonight, I’m going to tell Jamie that I’m dating his fiancée’s best friend.

  Ronnie is adamant he already knows but Jamie is not a man to bottle stuff up. He used to carry the world on his shoulders—he still does, to some extent—but he’s seen the light when it comes to not communicating with those he cares about and those who care about him. If April or Bryant had let it slip that Ronnie and I had become involved, at the very least I would have gotten the “don’t fuck this up” speech. That hasn’t happened.

  So tonight, at our two-weekly golf night with us four brothers—myself, Bryant, Cohen, and Jamie—and Jamie’s best friend, Ezra, I’m going to tell him. Especially since tomorrow, we’re all going to be at Axel’s eighth birthday party and it’s going to be the first family event Ronnie and I will attend together as a couple.

  That’s if Jamie doesn’t throw me off the top deck of the driving range when I tell him.

  Bryant picks me up in his truck. I put my seat belt on and manage a “hey” before my phone rings and Ronnie’s name shows on the screen.

  “Hey, Barbie. You’re on speaker, so don’t say anything too inappropriate.”

  “Um… is it Bryant or Cohen that can hear me? ’Cause it wouldn’t be Jamie,” she says awkwardly—and adorably.

  Bry and I both chuckle. “No need to answer. I know that laugh anywhere.”

  “We’re not that identical, Ronnie. You know that, right?”

  “I’ve always wondered if—”

  “Beautiful, if you ever want to see any part of mine again, you won’t ask my brother if our dicks are the same size.”

  “I just want to know. It’s important for all womankind,” she adds, and I can imagine her sitting down, pouting at the phone like we can actually see her.

  Bryant gives me a side glance, his lips quirking up. “I’ll tell you next time I see you, Ronnie. Maybe even show you—ow! What was that for?” Bry asks, rubbing his arm where my fist punched it—hard.

  “You offered to show my girlfriend your dick,” I growl.

  Bryant laughs. “She asked to see it!”

  “For the record, you didn’t let me finish my question so you can’t exactly prove I was going to ask whether you have identical penises… penii… whatever multiple dicks are,” she rambles. “But since you guys have brought it up… are they?”

  “Are they what, Barbie? Identical? It’s been at least twenty-five years since I last saw my brother’s dick.”

  “Damn. Okay then. I’ll just have to dream,” she says wistfully.

  Now she’s succeeded in getting a reaction out of me. “What do you mean dream?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Now I really want to know too,” Bry says.

  The little minx giggles. “I’m just winding you up, Ken.”

  “And you fucking love it too, don’t you?” I say with a laugh.

  “You know it. Besides, who else will rile you up?” Ronnie replies.

  Bryant raises one hand. “I will.”

  Ronnie laughs. “Apart from your brothers.”

  “Mom and Dad too,” I confirm.

  “And Abi,” Bry adds.

  “Definitely Abi,” I say in agreement.

  “Is there anyone who doesn’t give me shit?” I ask.

  “Maybe Axel?” Bry says with a shrug.

  Ronnie giggles. “Only because Uncle Jax is his new favorite.”

  I smirk. “Damn straight I am.”

  “You bought your way into the top spot with that bedroom you decorated for him. That shouldn’t count. It’s bribery,” Bryant says.

  I snort. “And I’m damn proud of it. Whatever it takes. I have competition with Harry. Axel was fresh blood I could claim favorite uncle status with.”

  “Bryant is totally going to steal Ax from you,” Ronnie says with a laugh. “I can hear it in his voice.”

  “You do remember I’m your professor, right?” I ask, my lips curved up. “You should be taking my side in all things.”

  “You do know your brother is a professor too,” she points out. “I’m sure he can make my life equally difficult. Just not in as many enjoyable ways as you can.”

  “You two know that it’s all fun and games until this conversation turns into sex talk, and then I will literally kick Jax out of my truck. My poor speakers will not cope with any deviant teacher-student role-play shenanigans, okay?”

  Ronnie and I both burst out laughing. Bryant tries to look stern with his eyes narrowed and his pursed mouth, but he’s soon chuckling along with us.

  “Okay, enough of the chitchat. Let me know how it goes with Jamie and if I have to come rescue you. He may be a lot bigger than me, but I’m fast and agile and could weave around his legs as a distraction while you run to safety.”

  “Beautiful, exactly how much have you been thinking about this?”

  “Maybe one bottle of wine with April. That long…”

  “Hang on, so April has just heard your question about identical dicks and teacher-student fantasies? “I ask, dumbfounded.

  April enters the conversation. “Yeah, that was hot. Maybe I could get Jamie to dress up as—”

  “No!” Bryant and I say in unison.

  “I don’t even want to think of Jamie doing anything remotely sexual,” I say, shaking my head and screwing up my face.

  “I just mean he could—” she continues.

  “No, April. Just no,” I say, the cab of the truck now filled with April and Ronnie’s laughter.

  “We’re almost at golf so we should end the call. Barbie, take it off speaker for a minute?” I do the same and hold the handset to my ear, the phone jostling as Ronnie takes the call private.

  “Oooh,” Bryant says like an immature teenager. I roll my eyes and ignore him.

  “It’s just me,” she says softly. Damn, that voice could have me hard in the blink of an eye—and it does.

  “It’s just me too,” I say. Bryant changes to making gagging noises. “Just ignore him; I do. He’s jealous you chose the better-looking twin.”

  Bryant shoots his arm out and shoves me with a laugh. “We’re identical, dumbass.”

  Ronnie giggles down the phone. “Tell him you won me over with your seductive charm, sharp wit, and spectacular cock.”

  “Hey, Bry,” I say, a huge grin on my face.

  “No! I was joking,” she says hurriedly.

  “You were joking about my charm, wit, and massive penis? The one you said was the biggest you’d ever seen?” I tease.

  “I did not say that,” she squeaks.

  Bryant snorts. “You sure she didn’t say minuscule, tiny, underwhelmi
ng—”

  “There’s nothing underwhelming about my junk,” I snap, narrowing my eyes at him.

  “Hello? Girlfriend here,” Ronnie says, her tone full of amusement.

  “Yes, I could never forget that,” I muse.

  “Good. I kind of like the idea of being your girlfriend.”

  “I like it too,” I reply, unable to stop the stupid grin on my face.

  “Good. So, something else interesting happened this afternoon…”

  “Do tell.”

  “Gilly called,” she says.

  I frown, wondering why her sister calling is anything out of the ordinary. “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, of course. Just busy. She actually invited us to dinner at Mom and Dad’s.”

  “Sure.”

  She goes quiet.

  “Beautiful, are you still there?”

  “Yeah. I’m just wondering if I’m still talking to Jax.”

  “Why? I like you; I like where this is going. You’ve met my parents.”

  “Your mom more intimately,” she says with a laugh.

  “I promise you, she’s probably forgotten all about that.”

  “Would you?” she asks.

  “Well, no. But I like seeing you naked and thinking about you—”

  “Okay, that’s enough of that. What I mean is, are you really okay with meeting my mom and dad? I’ve told you what they’re like.”

  “You have, but they also created you, so I’m going in with an open mind. From what you’ve told me, your sister sounds like good people. Regardless of how your parents might be, we’ll at least have her there.”

  “This is true…” she says, sounding cautious.

  I grin, shaking my head. How can a woman as confident and outgoing as Veronica Nelson be so worried about a simple dinner with her parents? If they’re rude or unwelcoming, we’ll leave. It’s as simple as that. Life is too short to be around people who don’t appreciate their children and how amazing they are. “Ronnie, it’ll be fine. Just let me know when the dinner will be, and I’ll prepare accordingly.”

  “Don’t hate me if you hate them,” she says. Now her hesitation makes sense.

  “I don’t think I could ever hate you, but I’ll promise anyway.”