“So tragic.” Mag puts his goggles on. “You’re cute as hell with helmet hair.”
Heaven help me, I blush.
“Gag,” Jordan whispers.
Mag laughs and we all follow Grant into the lab. He points out the different chemicals in the lab and what drugs they’re used in before explaining the bewildering production process. He doesn’t flinch when Jordan bombards him with questions.
Grant points to a cabinet of vials filled with bright liquids. “Those are used in chemotherapies. The only reason they aren’t fatal is because each one gets mixed one part to a hundred with more neutral compounds.”
“So if I just grabbed a bottle—” Jordan starts.
“If it got on your skin, it would likely do damage similar to carpet burns. If you ingested it, you’d die. So you’d be wise to keep your hands to yourself.”
“Wow,” Jordan says, and it’s his turn to blush. He’s quiet for a minute. “Do you have anything to, like, wake a person up from a coma?”
We both freeze.
Grant frowns, looking at Mag for an explanation, but he doesn’t give one.
“Hmm, we have a couple drugs to induce—put people into—comas, but nothing that reverses the process. With our drugs, when you stop administering them, they’ll often wake right up. Intravenous anti-inflammatories can sometimes help with brain swelling caused by non-medically induced comas...”
I’m not listening. I just step forward with Mag’s hand on my shoulder, and hug the kid until it hurts.
“She’s getting everything she needs. I promise.”
“Listen to Sabrina,” Mag whispers, roughing up Jordan’s hair.
After a few moments, Jordan says in a very quiet voice, “Thanks, you guys. I mean—not just for today, but for taking care of Mom.”
My heart breaks a little before I pull it back together.
Mag looks over, only for a second, before smiling at his younger brother. “No problem. That’s what families do.”
22
On the Desk (Magnus)
Brina’s nimble fingers clack away on her keyboard on the other side of my desk, a thoughtful look on her face.
On the scale of sweetheart to siren, she’s a perfect ten dick tease when she’s entranced with her work, innocent and oblivious to how bad I want to disrupt her.
I keep glancing at her over my laptop, wondering when she’ll look at me.
No luck.
She’s that focused, and it’s fucking sexy as blazes just like everything she does.
It’s a cool night in March, just past dusk with the stars beginning to shine through Chicago’s light pollution. The days are getting longer.
Jordan’s sleeping over at his friend’s place since it’s Friday night, leaving us a chance to work late on our old stomping grounds. Hugo was the last person in the office, and he left over an hour ago.
That means we’re alone. A rarity and a reminder.
Months ago, I made her a promise, and my cock pulses so hard I almost pass out when it hits my brain.
I’m a man of my word, and an electric tingle flares through me.
Tonight’s the night.
After what feels like an age, Brina looks up from her laptop with a smile like the sun.
“Okay, I just submitted the report. Unless there’s something else you’re working on, I think we’re finished.”
I shake my head.
“We’re not done. Close your damn computer and come here.”
She snaps her laptop shut and slides off the chair obediently, then stands next to my desk. There’s a sly smile on her face, like she’s trying to figure out what I’m up to, but she’s game for mischief.
I stand, straightening to my full length, undoing my tie as I walk around to her side, closing in on her.
My movement backs her up. Her plump ass to die for brushes the edge of my desk.
She’s cornered now, and her wide eyes tell me she has no idea how hard I’m about to fuck her through the floor.
That’s okay, sweetheart.
You’ll find out soon enough.
“Mag?” she whispers.
Stalking over, I seal a finger against her lips, harder than diamond with the heat of her breath on my skin.
I stretch an arm behind her, leading her to my side of the desk. Then I grab my legal pad, lay it on top of my keyboard, and close the laptop over it.
I lean forward, giving her even less space.
She makes no effort to fall back, but she doesn’t lean into me either. I move the laptop from the desk, pull open a drawer, and shove it inside.
With one hand on each hip, I place Brina’s delectable ass on my desk, desire coursing through me like a wolf on the prowl.
She’s figured it out.
I can see it in her eyes.
They’ve gone russet-brown with tension, with pleasant shock, with need.
“Wh—what are you doing?” she asks.
“It isn’t obvious?”
I lean down, my lips hovering just over hers, but I don’t dare brush them. If I do, she’ll be on her knees a second later, my cock buried deep in her mouth.
I need to know she’s aching, throbbing from head to toe like I am.
When her mouth moves on mine with a hunger, I’m convinced.
Her arms close behind my neck. Her kiss tastes urgent and sweet.
“Wrong question,” I snarl, pulling away. “You mean what are we doing?”
“Keeping promises? I think I remember a very specific one you made that first weekend, around New Year’s...” She blinks, her eyes like chocolate syrup I want to drown in.
Damn her, she can’t say it—we’re fucking in the office—and it makes me want her more.
“Number one rule of sales,” I say, pressing my forehead to hers. “Don’t tell when you can show.”
Then I claim her mouth, sinking my teeth into her plush bottom lip. My palms drop to the smooth exotic sandalwood of my desk with the edges of my hands digging into her firm ass, claiming what’s mine in my kingdom.
The kiss goes on longer than I intend and so damn deep I taste her soul.
When I’ve had my fill of her mouth—when I’m finally able to break away like a human being again—I kiss down her jawline, her neck, raking my short beard against her skin.
She fucking mewls for me, this shuddering high-pitched gasp, soft and needy and intense as ever.
I kiss back up her throat to her lips, taking her mouth again, this time with my tongue on fire. My hands roam the sides of her body, straight to the hem of that purple sweater dress.
Fuck me.
It’s the same one she wore that hellish day we met. I clutch the purple hem in both hands and start yanking it up, with half a mind to rip it right off her.
She pulls away from me, moaning, but throws a hand up.
“Mag, wait! Stop.”
Damn. Did I read that wrong?
I let go of the dress and straighten up.
As soon as my breath isn’t ragged, I ask, “What’s wrong?”
She raises an eyebrow, looking up at the corner. “The security cams.”
I snort. “My dear little suburbanite.” I plant my hands on the desk and kiss her forehead. “I thought I’d upset you when I was mauling your dress.”