I flicked his nose. “I have breathing problems.”
He smashed his mouth against mine then whispered. “It’s adorable.”
“I’m not adorable; I’m sexy.”
“That too.” He sighed and then pulled back. “I think we might pass out if we don’t get air, and as much as I want to take you against the wall then the floor, quite possibly the table—” He sighed. “—we need to fix this so we can at least report at noon looking like actual humans.”
“Ugh, you’re right.” I snuck out from under his braced arm and started checking the locked doors.
He did the same, and when I thought all hope was lost, opened one up and burst out with the word. “Eureka!”
I started laughing so hard I couldn’t stop, then he joined in, leaving me to wonder why the hell hadn’t we been together this whole time? When it was this easy? When it was this fun? When the sex and conversation matched each other rather than weighing each other out?
Mark actually did tap the stupid heating and cooling unit, then took a step back and swore.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“You mean other than our tropical paradise?” He smirked. “Um, that.”
He pointed at a black leather bag and inside? Enough money to retire on that tropical island rather than get a job at Emory Enterprises.
Mark peered into the bag.
It was thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars.
I covered my mouth with my hands.
We could get new cars.
A house.
We could probably freakin’ retire.
“What do we do?” I asked.
“Um, why are you whispering?” He nudged me with his shoulder. “Look, we have only one choice.”
“Tell no one, spend it and buy a Maserati?” I asked in a hopeful voice.
He patted my head. “Like I said, adorable. And now, we have to take it in at noon when we report for our next assignment, all right? It was probably put here on purpose.”
I crossed my arms. “Well, that’s mean.”
“Um, hello. Max?”
“Right,” I murmured, taking another look at the bag. “But can I at least touch it?”
“Babe, I was ignoring half of what you just said because I was already taking selfies, surprised you didn’t notice; also, there are a few gold bars.”
I crossed my arms. “Dumb, dumb Max putting money in here. What if the interns had no moral compass?”
Mark leaned down and took another picture. “Right?”
“He’s lucky we’re good people!”
“Totally.” He grabbed the bag.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“Um, what we should have done minutes ago? I’m gonna make it rain, then I’m going to take naked pictures of you with gold bars strategically placed around your body. I’m not an amateur.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “I like where your head is at.”
“I like where your boobs are at.” He shook his head. “Sorry, you’re nearly naked. You distract me more than gold bars; feel proud of that.”
“I actually do.”
“Maybe you can add it to your resume?”
“Huh, boobs look good naked. Yeah, has a certain ring to it.”
“I’d hire you.”
“As your sexretary?”
Mark dropped the heavy bag; it made a heavy thudding noise as it hit the floor. Then he picked me up in his arms and swung me around. “Nah, I’d rather you be my CEO so I could come into your office every day, see you in a tight black suit, stern look. You’d probably have glasses on even though you don’t need them, and you’d have your hair in a tight bun, and my only job would be to pull your hair free then swipe all the stuff off your desk while I bent you over it.”
I let out a lame whimper. “That’s a fantasy I have.”
“Aw, babe, I’m all about fulfilling your fantasies.” He kissed me hard against the mouth.
I shoved him against the nearest wall, “Damn, how could I have ever hated you?”
“Meh, sometimes we hate what we want to love.”
“What?”
“I just said that—”
I kissed him before he could answer, and weirdly enough, the bag of cash was forgotten as I tackled him to the ground and realized that some things are more valuable than jobs than money; some things just click.
And that was us.
Chapter Seventeen
Mark
More keys came, allowing us to actually access our clothes which was extremely distracting since we’d basically had sex on every surface in that damn bathroom.
By the time we were in the elevator up to Max’s main offices, I was exhausted.
But not from the heat.
From her.
She was wicked in the ways she came up with to use those damn gold bars. It was almost indecent.
And damn, did I worship her for it.
And realized I’d be sad when this chaos was over when we weren’t living in craziness together, rating a sick apartment, and taking part in Emory Games that, let’s be honest, HR should have hacked out years ago!
It was really the only confusing thing about our entire situation. Granted, rating the apartment seemed like a normal task for marketing or even sales, but adding the whole games aspect just seemed strange, and yet it was easy to see how much the employees enjoyed our torture, which begged the question, how the hell did Max get away with it?