Her Intern by Anne Marsh

Her Intern by Anne Marsh

Author:Anne Marsh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-30T17:50:31+00:00


CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dev

“WE NEED TO get back to work.” Lola eases herself as efficiently off my dick as she put herself there in the first place. The woman is a wonder. I’m still debating what to do—compliment her? Go for an awkward, naked snuggle?—but she’s already grabbing her clothes and pulling them on. Even I don’t usually bolt this fast.

A noise penetrates from the outside world—yet another fire truck tearing past Calla’s building. From the frequency with which they go by, sirens blaring, all of San Francisco should have burned down by now. But the sound panics Lola. She scoops my abandoned clothes up and tosses them at me.

“Jesus, Dev. Get dressed.”

I straighten and pull on my boxer briefs. The hardware closet smells like sex, like Lola and me. Anyone walking in here today will know exactly what’s happened. I file it under Shit That Can’t Be Fixed and focus on what can be changed.

“I want to do this again.” I step into my jeans. How do people have these conversations anyhow? I’ve never worried before about whether or not my hookup wants to see me again—I’ve always been too busy running out the door.

“This?” Lola’s voice is muffled by the hoodie she’s pulling on. It’s navy blue with little bows at the wrists and gold beads that click furiously as she tugs everything into place. I add it to my new list: Things I’ve Taken Off Lola.

“This. Us. Whatever this is.”

Her head pops out and she stares at me. Thank God she seems riveted by my abs and the dark slice of cotton where I haven’t buttoned my jeans because I’m not sure what my face says. I never go back for seconds.

“It’s just sex,” she says. “Just one day at a time. Nothing more. You’re a hot boy.”

“You have a beef with hot boys? Is there anyone who wants to date an ugly boy?”

“Do you want a list?” She flings her arms wide. “Of course I have a beef with hot boys. I’m a nerd. It’s practically obligatory.”

I’m pretty sure that someone hurt her once. Or maybe more than once. I wait, but she doesn’t expand on her statement, and now isn’t the time to ask. Not that I’d know how to ask. I mean, do I even really want to know those sorts of details about Lola? You might, the little voice in my head whisper-roars. She’s pretty amazing. Sex with her in an actual bed might be amazing, too.

“You know,” she says, “this was great. Thanks. But now I’m going to head back downstairs. If you could wait a few minutes before you follow, that would be great, too, because I’d really rather no one knew about us. It would be—”

I can fill in that blank.

It would be awkward.

Messy.

People wouldn’t look at Lola the same way and that’s not fair, but it’s also the way our world works right now. If I were a better person, I’d try to change that, too.

“Gotcha.” A pause. I should say something else.



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