Page 22 of Tangled

“Are you fucking kidding me? You screamed like you were about to die because there are crickets in your classroom?”

She scowls at me and then turns on her heels, headed back in the direction she came from, I assume. The clack of her shoes against the wet cement ticks like a timer on a bomb—the bomb that just dropped between the two of us. This woman is now my colleague and I know what she looks like naked and what she sounds like when an orgasm racks her body.

“Where are you going, Red? The crickets might get you,” I tease, enjoying how ridiculous she looks right now as I follow her and thoroughly appreciate the view of her ass swaying in front of me.

“Screw you, Garrison,” she spouts, as a rush of need glides through me. Like a freight train, the memory of what it’s like to screw her slams into me and then blood rushes to my dick.

“It’s Kane, actually,” I offer as she leads me around the corner of the building while I discretely rearrange my junk, headed in the direction of the math classrooms.

A quick turn of her head over her shoulder tells me she does not find this as amusing as I do.

“Olivia,” she says as we arrive at her classroom door, holding her hand out to me to shake while straightening her spine. Sure as shit, we’re right at Mr. Kirk’s old classroom.

Olivia. The name suits her and I let it swirl around in my brain and then roll off of my tongue. Classy, yet still fiery enough to match her personality.

“Olivia… I guess this makes sense why you kicked my ass in pool,” I say while I study her now in better lighting, reaching for her hand and remembering what her skin felt like against mine, the tingles spreading down to my crotch as my erection grows harder. The sun is starting to come up from behind the mountains and the overhead light in the eaves of the building brightens the area around us.

“Are you going to help me, or not?” She fires back, releasing my hand and crossing her arms over her chest while avoiding my comment about her pool skills.

“Your cricket killer is ready to take down the enemy.”

She rolls her eyes and then cautiously opens her door where I’m greeted with no less than fifty crickets, at least.

“Holy shit,” I say louder than I intended.

“I told you! This is disgusting,” she shudders before backing up.

“The rain must have brought them in. Is there a broom or something?”

“Oh yeah. Let me just grab the one I rode in on.”

“No need for the attitude,Olivia,” I snap back at her as I step over the crickets and into her room. Pushing them out with the inside of my foot, the bugs begin to scatter and jump.

“Oh, God!” She squeals, running away from the door as they hop out of the opening and scurry on their way down the sidewalk, her hair flying up around her as she twists and turns amid her shrieks.

I joyfully laugh, relishing in the fact that this collected and fierce woman I fucked a few nights ago is losing her shit over a few bugs.

Once the bugs have been safely relocated—give or take a few that succumbed to my size thirteen shoes—I turn my focus back on Olivia, still reeling with how my casual one-night-stand is now my new co-worker.

“So… uh, thank you, Kane,” she offers slightly less tormented now that the crickets are gone.

“You’re welcome. This sure is a surprise, huh?” I say, trying to ease the tension.

“No shit,” she says with a roll of her eyes, and then looks up at me beneath dark lashes.

Most of our interactions occurred in the dark the other night and the muted light in the bar. Absorbing her now as the overhead lights emphasize her face, I can see every fleck of color in her forest-colored eyes. Soft freckles dance across the bridge of her nose and those lips are painted a deep shade of red that makes her look even more powerful and strong than I sense she is. Her chest is completely covered by her dress, but I can still see her gorgeous tits beneath the fabric as if I have x-ray vision. My eyes travel down the length of her body to the tips of her heel-covered toes and back up before I register the look in her eyes.

There’s a hint of fear there—what she’s scared about I’m not sure. And it irritates me that suddenly, I want to know what that fear is.

I shake off the thought as she stands up tall and then speaks up more confidently. “Well, we can either let this be weird, or we can act like two consenting adults who happened to sleep together and now plan to move on with their lives.”

“Oh, I’m fine with that. I’m more worried about you,” I point in her direction.

“Me? Why me?”

“Well, you’re a woman. As a whole, you all tend to be the emotional ones. I can move past our little rendezvous, no problem. I’m just not sure you’ll be able to contain yourself now that we know we work together.”

Her jaw drops and then she scowls at me. “Excuse me? You don’t think I can accept the fact that we had a one-night-stand without making it out to be more than what it was?”

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