The Virgin Intern(14)
“You wouldn’t give me a straight answer.” I give him my best glare, and all he does is smirk.
“I did give you a straight answer. It just wasn’t the one you wanted.”
I stand up taller, squaring my shoulders and preparing to make a stand, but damn everything in me wants to kiss him again.
He slides one hand down my ass and presses my hips against his so I can feel his cock rising. Fuck. I want this, and no matter what I say, I know that I do. My body is wet with anticipation; sense memory telling it that pleasure is coming. “And how was that a straight answer?” I ask him, my voice gone husky with lust.
“No matter what my professional goals, Naomi, I told you that I wanted you, and I do. So when I have my tongue in your pussy, or when I’m sliding my cock inside you over and over again, or when you let me fuck your mouth, anything that is between me and your uncle is absolutely irrelevant.” His words spark images in my mind, and I’m so turned on that I’m halfway to coming. He moves his hand from my ass and slides it up my thigh, underneath my skirt. “Does that makes sense now?”
“Yes.” It’s really the only word there is. Whatever the question is, the answer is yes. “I’ve never done anything like this, you know.” I’ve never let anyone this close, never let anyone touch me like this in public. It’s dangerous and addictive and hot.
“Baby, I know. That’s what makes it so much fun.”
His fingers find my clit, and I’m so wet that my stocking and panties may as well not be there at all. His thumb starts rubbing rhythmic circles, and the friction of the fabric and his fingers has me about to break. The door opens, and Andrew smoothly reaches up to the cupboard around me to get a cup as his hand disappears from under my skirt. In seconds it’s as if nothing happened except for the fact that I was denied an orgasm, and I could absolutely kill the woman who just came in for coffee, totally oblivious.
Andrew pours his own cup of coffee, smirking at me. Holding back a scream of frustration, I head for the door. I can’t believe I let him get to me like that. Damn him for being so perfect, and so good. And damn his logic for actually making sense. Damn him for not making me come. Damn him. Damn everything.
“Don’t forget your coffee,” he says when I’m almost to the door. He saunters over and hands it to me. “We all deserve some small pleasures that we’re actually able to finish.”
With the image of his smirk burned in my mind, I head to my car and run away again.
Chapter 7
I swear that this morning had been a good morning. It really had been until Andrew showed up, making me want him. And just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, now there’s smoke pouring out of the hood of my car.
It’s another ridiculously hot day, and I’m hoping that the car is just overheated, but this also means I’m going to be late for the meeting at the Sterling Estate. Won’t that be lovely.
I pat the roof of my car, sad at the thought that this might be the end for it. It’s nothing special—just an old blue sedan I bought secondhand—but I’ve had a lot of moments in this car. Plus, my car is the only real place where I feel like I can sing and compose in safety. My uncle doesn’t want to hear it in the house, and I can’t afford a rehearsal space or studio time. Gas is cheaper, so I go for drives listening and singing and making mental notes of melodies for later.
The tow truck is on its way, but it won’t be here for another hour, go figure. That’s what happens when you’re in the middle of nowhere, Florida. At least I’m stuck on the edge of an actual road and not on the edge of a swamp. There are far too many of them in this state.
I lean against the car. It’s way too hot to sit inside without the air conditioning on. Outside there’s at least a chance for a breeze. A couple of people have slowed down and asked if I need help, but I’m fine, really. I haven’t called my uncle yet. I’m going to wait till the last possible second to do that. There’s always a chance of a miracle, like maybe the tow truck will show up early and I’ll get to the meeting on time. But the chance of that is about the same as the chance of an ice cold drink appearing in my hand right now.
There’s another car on the horizon, but sadly it’s not a tow truck. It’s a sleek black car, and it’s slowing down. I get ready to wave them off, and force another well-meaning person to abandon their good deed of the day. Instead I curse. Loudly.
No. Fucking. Way.
It’s Andrew. Andrew is in the car.
Of course he is, because he has to be at the meeting too. Of all the people I wanted to show up right now, Andrew fucking Finch wasn’t one of them. I’m already so confused about him, I don’t need him saving my ass on top of it to make me feel grateful and indebted to him.