Page 8 of Hidden Obsession

“Exactly,” he answered. His eyes were so different than any I had ever seen. They weren’t green or brown or even hazel but almost an amber color. Almost the exact shade of the orange blossom honey I’d splurged on at the farmer’s market.

“Oh, and, umm…” I looked over at Jonas because I was scared I’d start to do something embarrassing like drool if I kept staring at Hollis. “You think I would be a good fit?”

“I know it, kid.” He nodded before getting up and pointed at his brother. “Why don’t you talk with Hollis about what hours you are available and fill out the employee application.” He pushed a paper with a pen on top of it forward. “And exchange numbers. I think you would be great there.”

“Oh, wow, thank you.” My shoulders sagged with sweet relief and my eyes stung at the adrenaline rush of thinking I was about to get canned. My boss looked at me for a moment. “You look relieved,” he observed.

“I thought you were going to fire me,” I blurted and felt both men still. “I just—“ I shrugged. “I had to switch shifts last minute and thought you were upset.”

“Life happens, kid,” Jonas said exactly what Kitty had said when I’d called her to ask if she thought I would even be able to switch shifts.

“You guys talk and iron out the details. I gotta go check on something that needs my attention,” Jonas said before stepping out of the office and shutting the door behind him, leaving me all alone with the one man I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. Not that it could go anywhere.

Especially now that it seemed he was about to be my boss, too.

FOUR

HOLLIS

My brother was a fucking genius.

A sadistic one, leaving me all alone with Maryanne in his office, but a genius, nonetheless. Not that I would ever tell him that. Hell no. It would go straight to his head, and I would never hear the end of it. Though thinking about it, would it really matter if he helped me out with this whole Maryanne situation?

Situation. Is that what she is? A moment in time that needed to be handled?

I swallowed hard, thinking about the way I had somehow managed to maintain my composure and hands to myself while I told her about the job while I tried and failed not to breathe in too deeply. Her soft vanilla scent was stronger than it had been in the trailer or the one time I had seen her at the gym. It close to killed me not to be able to press my lips to hers or hold her in my arms and promise she didn’t have a damn thing to worry about.

She isn’t a situation. I scrubbed my face with the palms of my hands before leaning back, my attention back on the screens behind my brother’s desk.

Maryanne wasn’t a situation. She was going to be my entire goddamn life. I knew it down to the marrow of my bones.

I might have fought it, tried to deny my feelings and who she was to me by finding excuse after excuse, but I was done trying to talk myself out of it. Sitting in Jonas’ damn office with her, talking to her for the last five minutes, had solidified it for me.

Maryanne was mine.

The only problem now was figuring out how the hell to make that happen.

I groaned and shut my eyes with my head tilted up at the ceiling. Maryanne. My sweet little flower was about to get plucked up, and she had no idea I was after her.

The blaring music died down slightly as the DJ’s muffled words thanked whomever was out there and introduced the next dancer onto the main stage. My eyes moved to the screens and I sat up straighter. Jonas wasn’t back from wherever the hell he had gone, probably the Kitty Room with his fiancée.

I watched as the stage slowly darkened and out came my girl wearing… was that a schoolgirl costume? No. I sat up straighter and popped the two top buttons of my dress shirt. Sweat started to form at the nape of my neck as I took in the sight of her walking out.

That wasn’t a schoolgirl costume. It was a naughty librarian.

Shit. My mouth salivated and my dick instantly went rock hard.

I felt like a fucking dirty old man watching her out on stage. Her piercing blue eyes looked out at the crowd beneath chunky black-framed glasses giving off that strict but almost innocent air that no matter what outfit she went on stage in, she could never shake off.

Maryanne’s long dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail. The dark strands shined beneath the lights of the stage as she rounded the pole. Tight white blouse almost coming undone at the seams paired with a dark pencil skirt and sky-high patent leather heels. She rounded the pole, leaning her sweet softly curved body against it. I watched like the men down on the floor did. Completely mesmerized. Fully captivated as she worked each and every button of that blouse off. Exposing inch after inch of creamy pale skin my hands ached to touch. I swallowed as I could imagine the men watching her did, too. She danced and let her hair loose, every movement more confident, surer of herself as she came to life.

Fuck me, it was why she was so fucking great out on stage.

It was like watching someone gain their confidence right in front of your eyes. It was why I called her my little flower. I still remembered the first time she came out that first day she hit the stage. Wobbly legged, looking like the world was about to eat her alive, terrified of what she had to do, and so damn innocent it dripped right off her pores. That air of innocence still clung to her, but as I watched her take that blouse off and was only left in an almost sheer red bra, apart the lace hearts that covered her areolas, she had blossomed.

Her hands glided up and down her chest, teasing everyone, bringing their eyes between her sternum and only highlighting the firm, round globes of her creamy breasts, tracing them down the waistline of the formfitting pencil skirt. She looked out, and it felt like she was staring right at me, right into the center of my soul as she started to tug down the skirt but then shook her head, a naughty little smile gracing her lips.

I sat up and licked my lips as she danced, moving her body around the pole, teasing the eyes on her before she took the glasses off, looking at the crowd over her shoulder before bringing the leg of the frames between her red painted lips. Lips I was dying to taste.