Page 37 of Due South

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Evans

No, seriously. Thisis my life. Hyperventilating in my office because my boss almost caught me getting blown by her secretary in her bathroom. After running down a hallway naked except for clothes I’d been wearing for over twenty-four hours clutched against my junk.

Office affairs, man. They aren’t for the weak. Maybe we should call this early because I don’t know if I can handle the stress.

I throw the wad of dirty clothes into the corner with the rest of them I’ve been forgetting to take home, which isn’t surprising given I barely remember my own name. Then I have to rummage in my drawers to see what the hell else I have. Which could be nothing. Luckily, in the bottom drawer, there’s…running clothes. Less than ideal because I bet Lucy’s got some cute dress hanging up all fresh from the drycleaner on the side of her cubicle and I’m going to be all in my sweats, trying to think of a not-insulting way of saying, “Thank you, beautiful woman, for the world’s best blowjob.” Is there a classy way to say that or not so much?

But that had been awesome. So. Awesome. Some girls act as though giving head is a chore and some of the ones I’ve been with have been…intimidated. But not Lucy. No, she’d taken me inside her mouth as though she wanted to, like she enjoyed it. That was enough to make me lose my vocabulary. And when she’d swallowed, I’d devolved into some kind of speechless invertebrate. I can’t believe I get to have these things.

Probably I’m going to wake up in a few minutes to the bleating of my alarm clock and the past several days will have been a dream. Or maybe it’ll be my phone ringing because my brother’s had another episode and my mom needs me to come help clean up the furniture he’s destroyed. But if that’s the truth, then this has been, by far, the best and most realistic dream I’ve ever had.

But maybe it’s not made up.

I’ve finished shoving my feet into some sneakers I keep under my desk when there’s a knock at the door. The way it sends my heart into overdrive is an echo of earlier, though I’m not doing anything suspicious. I don’t think.

I double-check around my office to make sure there’s nothing incriminating and see some seafoam green lace in my laundry pile. Crap. Lucy must have grabbed her panties by mistake when she was scooping up my clothes. I turn over the pile to hide it under dress shirts and slacks and dark socks. There’s another knock at the door and I push my fingers through my wet hair. Well, that’s a tad suspicious, but there are a couple of showers down at this end. I could’ve used one of those.

“Coming!”

Heat bursts onto my cheeks as I remember struggling to warn Lucy I was going to lose it all in her mouth and how sexy it was when she hadn’t pulled away but instead let me spill into her throat and then she came herself. This is definitely not a dream. I don’t think my imagination could’ve come up with something that awesome.

I open the door to be greeted by a pursed-lip India. “If you’re finished with your toilette, Evans, we need to go over the reporting requirements.”

“Oh, yeah, right sure. Let me…”Get my shit together.Tie the drawstring on my pants so they don’t fall down around my knees. Because running halfway across the office buck-naked wasn’t bad enough. Get my head out of the gutter where it’s been stuck since Lucy and I started fooling around. “…turn on my computer.”

She nods crisply and then spins around, her nose wrinkling. “I know you’ve been working like crazy this week, but some cleanup might be in order. Looks like a federally declared disaster area in here. Lucy’s making some coffee, so I’ll go grab a couple while you pick up a few things and then we can get down to business.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, anxious for the opportunity to get some stuff straightened up and try to shake Lucy and all her hotness from my head so I can concentrate on my job.

Chapter Thirteen

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December 22nd

Lucy

The words onthe screen in front of me are drifting around like sophisticated alphabet soup. My stomach growls in response to the idea of soup, because the last time I ate was… I don’t even know, but it’s headed on midnight. It’s headed on midnight and we have no food worth eating in the kitchen fridge. I’ve already checked. And in the cupboards too. Bare.

My stomach grumbles again, and I shush it out loud because it’s too quiet in the hall. I need food, and I’m betting Evans could use some too. And yes, of course, that’s the only reason I’m headed down the hall to his office.

Not because I’ve been thinking about his warm brown eyes and how they wrinkle at the edges when he smiles at me or the crazy way his hair sticks up on one side after he’s fallen asleep on his desk. Or even how hard he made me come on the beach and how thoughtful he is. Knowing the idea of an audience would rev me up, but an actual audience would freak me out.

I’ve never had a man who was so interested in my pleasure and so willing to go out on a limb to make it a reality. Willing, able, and enthusiastic to make my fantasies come true in a way I could actually tolerate after the high of an orgasm had worn off. And Evans…

Evans is the man.

I’m sure my cheeks have gone pink by the time I reach his office and softly knock on the doorframe.

His head yanks up, his curly hair unruly, probably from running his fingers through it. I’d like to do that too. It was soft when I gripped it between my fingers. He must’ve found some clothes somewhere too because he’s not wearing sweats anymore but a button-down shirt and I’m guessing slacks behind the desk.

“Hey, Luce. What’s up? Need me to look at something?”

I smile at him because it’s painfully sweet of him to offer. He’s up to his eyeballs in his own work, but he’d sink even deeper into this report to help me.

“No. I need a break and some food before I get back to work. My stomach was grumbling so loudly it drowned out my music.”

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