“He’s my nemesis.”
“You’ve mentioned that,” she said with a smile. “But your body doesn’t think so.”
Which brought me back to the core of my dilemma. On a deep, physical level—in the depths of my primal brain where logic had no influence—I was attracted to Corban. Intensely attracted to him. More than I’d ever been attracted to any man in my life.
But we didn’t get along. He was irritating and frustrating and so adorable when he raked his hand through his hair and—
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so confused.”
Nora grabbed my hand and squeezed. “You have a brilliant mind, Hazel, and it’s not often that it lets you down. But sometimes your head gets in your way.”
“Own it?” I asked, wondering if I had it in me to do what she was suggesting.
“Absolutely. Just fucking own it. Acknowledge it, and move on.” She grinned at me. “Or make plans to meet somewhere more private and see what happens.”
“No.” I held up a hand. “It’s not happening again.”
Nora and Sophie shared a look, like they didn’t believe me.
But maybe they were right. I needed to own it. March into Corban’s office on Monday, look him in the eyes, and tell him in no uncertain terms that what had happened last night was never, ever happening again.
16
Corban
“When you are courting a nice girl, an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder, a second seems like an hour. That’s relativity.” ~ Albert Einstein
I expected things would be tense on Monday. What I didn’t expect was Hazel marching into my office first thing in the morning and closing the door behind her. I’d only just put down my keys.
For the first time since we’d met, she was dressed in a shirt without buttons. That was obviously not a coincidence. Her hair was up, showing off the soft skin of her neck. Now that I knew what that skin tasted like, seeing the curve where her neck met her shoulder took on a whole new meaning.
I wanted to bite her right there. Pin her down and slam my cock into her while my teeth left red marks on that silky-smooth skin.
Had I really just had that thought? Who the hell was I?
She lowered herself into a chair, crossed her legs, and folded her hands in her lap. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah.” I adjusted my glasses and shifted in my seat. “Right. So…”
“I’m on birth control, so you don’t need to be concerned about a surprise pregnancy.”
My eyes widened at her bluntness, but my shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t let myself think about that side of things too much, but now that I knew it wasn’t an issue, I was relieved. “That’s good.”
“It was still an irresponsible choice on both our parts.”
Should I tell her I now had a stash of condoms in my wallet? No, because we weren’t doing it again. I hadn’t bought the condoms for her, anyway. Friday night had just made me realize it was better to be prepared.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Good.” Her voice was clipped. “As far as the events that transpired between us, I think it’s best we keep that information to ourselves.”
What was that supposed to mean? “What do you think I’m going to do? Put up notices on all the bulletin boards around campus? Bring it up in our next meeting with Elliott?”
“I should hope not.”
I furrowed my brow. “Do you really think I’d do something like that?”
“Many men are prone to boasting about their sexual conquests.”
“I’m not many men.”
Her expression softened, but only slightly. “That’s good to know. Then I also think it’s important to clarify that it won’t be occurring again.”
The familiar Hazel-induced fire ran through my veins. “I know. I already made that clear, remember?”
“I recall you saying something of that nature, yes.”
“Then don’t pretend like you’re the one who decided it was a one-time thing.”
She crossed her arms. Buttons or no buttons, her tits looked great. And I’d barely gotten my hands on them.
Stop, Corban. Don’t be hypnotized by her boobs. Again.
“I did decide it was a one-time thing,” she said.
God, she was so stubborn. “Maybe it won’t be.”
“That’s why I came to clarify. Because it’s not happening again.”
I crossed my arms, too. She wanted to argue? Fine. I didn’t care that I’d said she only got my cock once. Now I just wanted to fight with her, even if it meant fighting over doing it again.
Plus, fuck it. I really, really wanted to do it again.
“Well, then I’d like to clarify that what I said was in the heat of the moment and I didn’t mean it literally.”
Her mouth popped open. “Were you trying to create scarcity to increase my desire?”
“Maybe. Did it work?”
“No.”
The corner of my lips hooked in a grin. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m absolutely sure.”
The flush in her cheeks and the slight breathiness in her voice made me wonder if we were thinking the same thing. That there was plenty of room on this desk for us to—
“I see what you’re doing,” she said, interrupting my thoughts.
“You do?”
“Yes. You’re trying to use sex to manipulate me into… something. It won’t work.”
“What do you think I’m trying to manipulate you into doing? Having sex again? Liking me?”
“Probably both.”
“Would either of those things be so terrible?”
She pursed her lips for a second. She was so sexy when she did that. “Yes. They would be so terrible. I think.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” She let out a frustrated breath. “Friday night was a mistake. We have to work together, and meeting in the copy room for clandestine encounters is not conducive to a good working relationship.”
I stared at her and my jaw hitched. A mistake. I’d had the exact same thought, but hearing her say it out loud—throwing it in my face like that—hurt. A lot more than it should.
What had Weston said about her having the power to fuck me up inside?
She did. She really did. I was twisted up in a knot so tight there was no way to untangle it.
“You’re right. It was a mistake. At least we can agree on something.”
She flinched. Not much and if I hadn’t been staring her down, I would have missed it. That tiny flicker of pain in her expression twisted the knot in my gut even harder.
“Good,” she said, her tone all business. “Then we’re agreed.”
“No more sex.”
“Right.”
“From now on, we’re strictly professional.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Fine.”
Her tongue swept across her lips and my dick—which apparently had no connection to my frontal lobe and was incapable of logic—reacted. The anger running through my veins felt a hell of a lot like something else. Like lust. Like I wanted to rip that buttonless shirt over her head, bury my face in her tits, and stroke her clit until she begged me to fuck her again.