"Not with both hands and a map, huh?" he asked from behind me, sounding cocky and amused at once, which, well, was just too damn sexy. "So, was I imagining it when your pussy was squeezing my cock a minute ago?"
"Oh, shut up," I said, putting the last book in its rightful place.
"Do you need another example?" he asked, eyes wicked as he moved toward me again.
My hand slammed down in the center of his chest, holding him off. "I do actually have some work to do tonight," I told him, turning, and walking away.
I went back to the front desk, pretending not to notice him as he passed me on his way toward the bathroom. And while he was inside dealing with the condom, I tried to convince myself that this was it. I just needed another good lay. I needed to fuck him out of my system. That was all.
I had my back turned when I felt eyes on me. Sighing out my breath, I turned, ready for some asshole teen to say something vaguely - or outright - sexual to me, making me have to be the big, bad adult and scold them for it. Fucking brats making me be a grown up all the time.
But when I turned, I didn't find some teen ready to try to trip me up with what they thought was a clever innuendo.
I have a job for you... but it blows.
If I flip a coin right now, what are the chances of me getting head?
You know... I'm really on top of things. Would you like to be one?
What time do you get off? Can I watch?
I'm looking for treasure; do you mind if I search your chest?
I love snatching kisses... and vice versa.
Thinking they're so clever. I could throw out better innuendos after six shots of tequila. I'd had a lot of practice.
"Thursday night."
"What?" I asked, brows drawing together.
"Thursday night. Come to the compound."
"No." Ugh, but god yes.
"Stop being a pain in the ass. You know you want to."
"And you know this because I have practically been stalking you for a week. Oh, wait. No, that'd be you."
"Christ, Peyton. What's the problem? You like fucking me. Don't even try to deny it."
"So, you want a booty call situation?" I asked. Normally, those were words that set me on fire. Great sex with no commitment? Sign me up! But for some reason, this time, there was a weird, uncomfortable swirling sensation in my belly at the idea.
"Call it whatever you want," he invited somewhat cryptically. "But be at the compound on Thursday when you get off here."
"So you can get me off there?" I asked, smirking.
"Something like that, yeah."
"Alright, fine," I said, ignoring the voice that said if one of the Mallick or Rivers men saw me entering that building, they would come charging in after me. "But if you fall in love with me, I'm gone."
"Got it," he agreed, giving me a nod, then turning, and walking out.
It wasn't until I was done getting my busy work finished that the reality managed to set in.
I had a new fuck-buddy.
I had a new fuck-buddy who happened to be a Henchmen.
And I maybe, possibly, sort-of, kinda wanted to be more than a fuck-buddy to him.
I mean, in theory.
Not in reality.
That would be insane.
Right?
I didn't even know the man.
And that was just the way I needed to keep it.
Casual.
So I didn't get hurt.
"Hurt?"
I didn't realize I had said that out loud until the group of teens who were heading out the door turned back to look at me with drawn-together brows.
Hurt.
That was asinine.
I never got hurt. Not with men. That wasn't how it worked. I had managed to maintain a long-ass history of not-hurt-feelings when it came to the opposite sex. Sure, there was disappointment if they suddenly caught feelings and I needed to ditch them, or had whiskey dick, or found a girl and had to cut off our casual fun times. But that was it. Just disappointment. Nothing even in the same ballpark as actual hurt.
Why, then, was something inside me suggesting that there was the potential for that foreign feeling here? With Sugar... of all men. Hell, I didn't even know his real name. Or anything about him other than he was a great fuck, a shameless flirt, and had bad taste in literature.
As if sensing my inner turmoil, my phone started vibrating under my desk, making me almost lunge at it, happy for anything that could distract me.
Finding my sister's number, I smiled and accepted the call.
"I know, I know," she said as soon as I picked up. "I am never supposed to call if a text would suffice."
"And yet," I said, smiling as I sat down, propping my heels up on the desk before I remembered I didn't have panties on.