Page 39 of Donut Overthink It

“I mean it, Hadley,” he growls, and then he pinches my nipple.

I gasp at the shock it sends straight to my pussy. “Okay,” I breathe.

“Do you hang out with him?” he asks.

“Sometimes. Down in the cafeteria,” I admit.

“I want you to stay away from him,” he orders.

“Aiden—”

“Stay away from him,” he growls, interrupting me.

I open my eyes once again to see if he’s playing, but his blue eyes are hard and his lips thin. I lift my hand draped over him and cup his cheek. His facial hair rough against my skin. “I will.”

He runs the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip, and his eyes soften. “I don’t trust him,” he admits.

“Don’t trust him with what?” I ask.

His eyes search mine for a long second, and then he releases a sigh as he pulls his finger from my lips and pulls me closer to him. “With you,” he finally answers, and I feel like he’s keeping something from me, but I ignore it. It won’t matter anyway. Once we’re back at work on Monday, things will go back to how they were before. He’ll be a dick to me, and I’ll try to avoid him every chance I get.

AIDEN

I finally allowed her to get a few hours of sleep Friday night, but I woke her up Saturday morning with my head between her legs eating her as if I was starving. Then I did her again in the shower that she insisted we needed. But we didn’t leave her place. We didn’t even dry off before I carried her back to her bed and took her again and again.

Now the sun has gone down, and we lie on our backs, both looking up at the ceiling, breathing heavy, and satisfied once again.

I hear her cell go off from her nightstand, and I sit up to look over at it as she lies there with her eyes closed, ignoring it.

“Who is it?” she asks, feeling me shift beside her.

I frown, looking at her phone. “It says the wicked witch.”

“Ignore it,” she growls.

I press ignore and lie back down. “Who is it?” I ask, already having an idea who it was.

“My mother.” She huffs.

“Why do you tell people that she is dead?” She’s never told me personally, but I’ve heard her tell others around the office before.

“Because to me, she is,” she answers, finally opening her eyes.

“What did she do to you?”

“I don’t wanna talk about her,” she says, turning on her side to face me.

I push a few blond strands from her slick face. “And your dad? You said he was dead.” I’ve only ever heard her mention him once and that was to Millie. But he seemed generally excited to see her the other day when he was in the conference room with her mother.

“He is dead.”

“But I saw him—”

“No,” she interrupts me. “That was not my father. He really is dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” she whispers.

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