Page 11 of Mark my Words

“So, he didn’t use cock too many times?”

“Um, nope.” I narrowed my eyes at the smug look on his face and softly cleared my throat again. “I think it was just enough cock.”

He laughed as he saved the document and flipped the cover closed on his tablet, turning those disarming blue eyes on me. “I’ll let you know when I hear back from him.”

“Uh...” I cleared my throat yet again. Why was it so dry suddenly? He was studying me, and I didn’t particularly appreciate how it made me feel.

“Evan,” he led, and I gave a single, curt nod. “I’ll send him the edits and let you know when we’ve got something else to review.”

“Sure, yeah—sounds good.”

Was my voice still breathy?

“Sorry to interrupt your work earlier... I guess you can get back to that now.” He nodded to the laptop I had abandoned when he ambushed me earlier.

“Yup. Thanks for the permission.” Except I wasn’t going to be able to focus now because I imagined Sam in place of Detective Raines—pinning me to the wall with his cock in my mouth...

And that was all kinds of fucked up because I didn’t like him...right?

SAM

BOSTON

“Dude, are yah gonna spot me or what?”

Shaking my head, I looked back down at my boss, who I somehow got dragged into spotting on the weight bench in the gym downstairs. Typically, a few personal trainers floating the weight room floor took care of this, but Adrian caught me as I came in the door and roped me into being his bitch. Like I didn’t spend all day doing things that weren’t part of my job for him.

“Yeah.” My hands moved into position, past the edge of the bar, and I counted out the reps as he tried to max out the heavy bar. People liked to trash talk that he was soft, but one thing Adrian excelled at was looking good. He didn’t always want to focus on doing his job to the best of his ability, but his physique never suffered.

Being naturally athletic, I lifted sometimes, but I preferred running and using the press and cable machines rather than racks or weight benches. Lacrosse players had to focus on overall strength and speed; over-inflated muscles would only slow you down on the field, and as an attacker, I needed to hone my speed at an early age.

“Yah gonna stand there with a blank look on yah face or tell me about how much of a pain in the ass Isobel’s attack dog is?”

“Your grasp of the English language befuddles me,” I muttered. Adrian was constantly using slang and ending his sentences in prepositions. It drove me insane. I wasn’t expecting him to speak in proper English 24/7, but he could at least sound like he deserved his master’s degree.

“Whateva, we’re not on tha clock. I can speak how I want to,” he bit back, the faint sound of his born and raised Boston accent slipping through his typical veneer. You could pull the boy outta Southie, but he had that culture in his DNA. I knew he hated being reminded of his humble beginnings, having worked his ass off to get scholarships to Boston College. Without an Ivy League education, gaining respect from others in our world was hard enough. My family had never struggled, and I earned good grades in high school and college, but certain boys’ clubs never had openings if you didn’t have that elite pedigree.

“Yah never answered my question.”

Holding in the cringe, I refocused on his sweaty face and tried to come up with something to appease him. “Kristine is fine. We work well together.” Lies, so many lies. “It’s refreshing to work with someone so professional.”

Adrian scoffed, and as I watched his eyes roll back in his head, I knew I’d laid it on a little thick. Kristine wasn’t terrible to work with, but the snark was strong with that one, and I often wondered if I should wear a cup under my trousers just in case I angered her unintentionally...or intentionally. Take your pick. Her feistiness appealed to me, having grown up surrounded by strong women.

Her voice also did something to me, especially when it got that little growly quality to it, like when I’d saved her from getting fired for assaulting the nephew of one of the higher-ups. She didn’t seem to realize that nepotism, while complete bullshit, also ensured some idiots were untouchable. I knew she could defend herself, but he was a jackass and sexually harassed everyone who came near his desk.

“Just watch yah self around that one; she’s got an ego problem.” Like he didn’t. “Yah’d think having a loaded daddy would get her whatever she wanted, but she’s a real man-eater.”

Daddy? “Do you mean like she has a sugar daddy?” She didn’t seem like the type to cater to some older guy’s whims.

Adrian laughed as he pushed his way through his rep, groaning slightly at the end. Another reason that I hated working out with him. He was a grunter. “No, her pops is some bigwig at a hedge fund in New York, old money, loaded yacht party shit. Fairly sure Kristine summers in the Hamptons. But she’s no daddy’s little princess.”

She’d never given me that elitist kind of vibe. Sure, she was difficult to talk to and often abrasive in social situations, but it wasn’t because she was a snob. I knew he meant to give me the information as a warning, but it was like peeling back another layer on the onion; I was curious about what was inside.

She’d enjoyed teasing me when we read through the pages the other day, and I could tell from the subtle physical cues she gave away that she was aroused yet angry about it for some reason. It was like she didn’t want to show anyone she could be attracted to them. I’d kept my cards close to the vest, but she was locked up tight.

“She’ll have yah balls in a vice before yah can blink if yah try something.”

“Why would I try something?” While I was friendly with my colleagues, I didn’t make it a point to openly flirt with any of them, especially those who weren’t interested. Adrian was the one who had a reputation for skirting the line of professionalism. He wasn’t as blatant as Carson, but he was one inappropriate comment to the wrong person away from getting reported to Human Resources.

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