Page 72 of Ink & Desire

Like last night, Corbin waited until the others left for the night. Then he locked the front door, pulled me into his office and bent me over his desk. I’ve never had a sexual relationship that burned this hot, this fast. I don’t know how to handle it. But I’m not complaining. I’m having the time of my life. I can’t wait for the end of the day when I can have Corbin all to myself.

“What are you doing Friday night?”

Jessie’s voice yanks me out of my sexy daydreams of Corbin’s naked body and I blink.

“Huh?”

We’re both sitting in the little break room eating a quick lunch before the afternoon clients show up.

“Friday night,” Jessie says. “What are you doing after work?”

I think about Corbin and how I’d been hoping to get him to stay over at my place so we could have more than just a quick fuck. But I can’t tell Jessie that.

“Oh, um. No plans, I guess. Why?

She smiles delightedly. “Because you and I are going out.”

I’m immediately wary. “Why?”

“Because you’re the oldest 24-year-old in Boston,” she says. “And you need to get out more. And since I also need to get out more, you’re coming with me. Besides, you just said you don’t have plans. So, no excuses.”

Shit.

I can’t believe I didn’t stay vague about my lack of plans until I knew what she had in mind. Rookie mistake. I blame my obsession with Corbin’s body for the distraction. It’s the only excuse I can come up with for why I blanked. When I don’t immediately agree, Jessie’s eyes narrow.

“Unless you’ve got something else going on? Some secret sexcapades planned? Because I’m not a twat-blocker.”

I laugh as my face heats with a blush. She can’t know how close she is tothe truth.

“I should be so lucky,” I say. “Okay. I’ll go out. But we can’t stay too late. I’ve got to be back here in the morning.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry. Since I turned 30, I need a minimum of 8 hours of sleep or I’m a bitch in the morning.”

“Aw. Something for me to look forward to.”

Jessie sighs. “Kids these days.”

It turns out Jessie was right about the bar she’d recommended to me before. The Mint is a low-key place with dim lighting, a live band on the weekends, and killer loaded fries. The clientele includes college kids looking to start their night with cheap drinks before they go to the fancier clubs for $15 cocktails; to bikers clad in leather and denim shooting pool. It’s the kind of place my mother and her crowd wouldn’t approve of. It’s not the kind of place I’d normally choose, but I’ve got to admit I like the vibes. The food is greasy, but delicious. The drinks are cold and cheap. The tables aren’t sticky, and the band is playing songs that were popular before I was born. I think I could enjoy spending some time here.

“This place is great,” I say, reaching for another fry from the plate in the center of the table.

Jessie nods. “I like it. Not your usual type of place, huh?”

I wrinkle my brow in question. “Why do you say that?”

She smiles. “Just that you seem like a champagne and canape kind of girl.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I can be,” I say. “That’s what my mom would prefer, I think.”

“I knew it,” Jessie says.

“Knew what?”

“Just that you come from money,” she says. “I could tell.”

“How?” I ask, more amused and curious than irritated by her assessment.

She shrugs. “You just have this way about you. The way you move. The way you talk. It’s just something I noticed. Something more proper and cultured.”

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