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The rest of the week surges into the next and I find myself slowly getting into the swing of things.
But I am so freaking bored.
Every day, I file, I run errands, I grab coffee, I copy. I’ve faxed, scanned, and copied so many things, I think this room on the third floor could be my new home.
Understandably this is the life of an intern, but this just hadn’t been the expectation. Per my dad’s promises, I expected a more hands-on experience. I wanted to see things in action, sit in on meetings, depo hearings, just more. Most importantly, I wanted to see a court case up close and personal. But every day, he leaves me in his office and I do homework like I’m a child hanging out after school, waiting for my dad so I can get a ride home.
But there has been one particularly stimulating part of this job—Landon West. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I swear I feel his eyes on me everywhere. We haven’t had lunch since the first day, but he always checks in to make sure I’ve eaten before he sends out for food. His eyes seem to follow me around the room whenever we are in the same place.
We rode in the elevator alone today and with each passing floor, I could feel something crackling between us. His gaze traced the side of my face for the duration of the ten floor ascension, his tall, lean body pressed against the wall of the elevator with his hands in his pockets. I was too afraid to even breathe, let alone look at him. As soon as we got to our floor I all but fled from the elevator without a look in his direction. After that, I felt his gaze on me for the rest of the day. He even followed me to the copy room and stared at me from across the room when I was delegated the basic task of scanning a memo.
What is he doing to me?
I’m staring at the ceiling of my bedroom going over and over that tense interaction in the elevator just as my phone begins to ring.
Heavy breathing fills my ears and for a moment I consider hanging up, thinking that the unknown number that called me in the middle of the night is some sort of prank…or the beginning of a scary movie. But then his silky voice washes over me like warm honey and I have to hold my breath to prevent myself from letting the gasp escape my lips.
“Mitchell.” I blink my eyes a few times and sit further up in bed, tossing my iPad to the side. I tuck some hair behind my ear and flatten my messy bed-head with my hand as if he can see me.
Mr. West is on the tip of my tongue, but after our interaction today, I decide to let his name fall from my lips in a whisper. “Landon?”
The silence is deafening and my heart pounds in my chest. The pounding is even more aggressive between my legs. My cheeks slowly heat up and I hold my breath so he doesn’t hear my ragged intakes of air. What is happening? Is this an orgasm? I’ve been turned on before but never…like this. I can hear his breathing, but the silence stretches on, neither of us saying anything.
“Shit.” I hear him grumble and the word must have a direct line to my clit because it throbs instantly. I look around my room, trying to find something that will calm my erratic heartbeat that is pounding between my legs and my eyes find a picture on my dresser of me my mom, Skyler, and my dad.
Not helping.
“I called the wrong Mitchell,” I hear from the other end. “I meant…” he slurs slightly and I’m starting to understand the reason for this 2 AM phone call. “I meant to call P.”
“Well, you’ve got me,” I quip. My eyes widen at the words I’ve let slip and the potential implication. I fiddle with my glasses as I nervously wait for his response.
“I do,” he murmurs, and I wonder if it wasn’t meant for me to hear.
“Where are you?”
“Bar.” He grunts. “Can’t find my fucking keys.” I hear shuffling through the phone and faint noises in the background and a surge of jealousy courses through my veins as I think about a possible woman there.
“Well, you shouldn’t be driving anyway. I would hope the bartender would have taken them from you.”
“Oh. Maybe. Shit. Did you take my fucking keys?” He barks to someone. “That’s a two hundred thousand dollar car, don’t even think about it.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s trying to save your life, Landon. You shouldn’t be driving. Besides, what kind of message are you teaching your son, if you do what he’s in trouble for?”
He’s silent and for a split second I wonder if I’ve gone too far. “I should take you over my knee for that.”
I ignore the moisture leaking out between my legs and wetting my panties. I rub my legs together trying to quiet the roar between them. God, how do women live like this? It’s this intense, every time you get turned on? I lift the hem of my underwear and see the moisture glistening between my thighs. Holy cow. I realize I haven’t said anything, so I stammer out an apology. “I…Sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“You’re damn right it’s not…But shit, if you aren’t right.”
I lick my lips, trying to wet the dryness in my mouth and I let out a breath. “Were you calling my dad to come get you?”
“Yeah.”
“You know there’s an Uber app for that.”
“Ubers are for millennials and underaged kids who get drunk at bars,” he slurs.
I purse my lips, as a scowl finds my face. “How else do you suggest getting home?”
