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Fucking nerd. I can’t help but smirk. Hannah hates superhero shit. If he knew her at all, he’d notice her quirky obsession with all things documentaries and history. The elevator dings, and I step inside, blocking Braydon’s entrance. “Hey, favor, go make sure the fax is on in the copy room, will you?”
“It never gets shut off,” he says, confused, trying to bypass me.
“Still. Expecting an important file to be sent through tonight. Need to make sure.” He eyes me, but goodie two-shoes won’t say no in front of Jim.
“Yeah, sure.”
That’s what I thought. I press the close button before he even rears back around. Jim continues to chatter about his golf score while I pull my phone out and shoot off a text to Hannah.
Me: Pack a bag. Tell your parents you’re sleeping at a friend’s house. Meet me outside in twenty minutes.
Hannah: You know, my parents are going to want to know who these amazing friends I have are soon…
Me: Tell them you’re going to a nunnery lock-in then. You need to pray all night for your sins and all the naughty things I’m going to do to you.
Three little dots pop up, and I anticipate her response.
Hannah: Anything else, boss?
Shit. Nothing like standing next to the dad of the girl you’re growing a boner for. Hannah loves calling me boss in this seductive way right before I plunge into her. That sweet spot, made just for me. And her dirty little mouth drives me absolutely mad. I’ve never been the rough, dominating type. I like sex just as much as the next guy, but with Hannah, it’s different. I don’t just want to be inside her, I want to dominate her, own her, mark her. This part of what we’re doing scares me. I don’t know how to control this beast she’s released. As long as Hannah’s in my life, there’s no controlling him.
Me: Don’t bother with any panties, I’ll just destroy them.
Hannah: I haven’t had any on all day, why would I put some on now?
Fuck me. I rush out of the building, giving Jim a short goodbye, and jump in my car. I step on the gas and take the left faster than I should. Having to miss our lunch date threw my afternoon off. I knew she was waiting for me and the call I had to place telling her I wasn’t going to make it back down soured my mood the rest of the day. It didn’t help that Jim called Braydon in to assist. The kid gave me bad fucking vibes. The ass kissing galore wasn’t even the problem. If Jim enjoyed Braydon’s tongue all the way up his ass, so be it. It was something else. The questions. The looks. He was planning something. And the way he scrutinized me, as if he had something I didn’t. Twice today, I wanted to put him in his place, confirming he didn’t have shit. One being Hannah. I made sure of it. Their little meet-ups were done. Dead in the water. I even attempted to have his keycard revoked to get onto our floor until he complained like a little pussy about needing access to our printers. Of course he went to Jim. And he fucking gave it to him. A part of me wants to tell Jim about us. He may fire me or kill me, but at least he’ll stop encouraging that piece of shit to take his daughter out.
I make it to the Matthews’ residence in record time. Like a good little girl, Hannah is waiting for me.
“Hey,” she says as she climbs in. My shitty day washes away the moment her sweet scent fills my car. I want to lean over and take her mouth, but I need to be smart. Anyone can see.
“You smell delicious.” I pull away from her street and take a right before Jim gets home and spots my car.
“You mean you smell Mom’s pot roast?” She giggles, putting on her seat belt. I used to love pot roast nights at the Matthews’. When I lived there for the summer, I’d request it all the time.
“Keep talkin’ like that and I may have to turn around and ditch you for your mom’s cooking.” She slaps me, her smile causing this heavy feeling inside my chest.
“You don’t really look like my fake new bestie Becky, and I’d have to explain why I spent so much time with you.” I chuckle, bringing my eyes to the road. Fifteen minutes pass, but it seems like forever until we’re finally pulling into the underground parking garage of my condo and taking the elevator to the fifteenth floor.
“Wow, this place is nice,” she states, looking around. I toss my keys on the counter and head to the fridge.
“Thanks. Want something to drink?”
