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Week 8

There was something odd about the way we maneuvered the office. It was a daunting task to try and pretend that we hadn't spent many nights together, wrapped up in his bed sheets or on some other unconventional surface for sex, especially in front of his colleagues and around a very clingy Addison. I did my best to avoid him, and if there was no reason to lounge in his office while he occupied it, I was not going to spend a single unnecessary second in it.

I was sitting across from Addison, eating lunch together in the lounging area on the first floor, directly across from the main foyer. My fork crushes through the bland salad, piercing a piece of lettuce that I missed when I applied the dressing. I sigh to myself as Addison rambles about the legal change event occurring tonight. The entirety of the event was an attempt to gain sponsorship, endorsements, and fundraise to further advance an agenda I was not aware of it, and quite frankly, not bothered to know more. As far as I was concerned, everyone would be there, and I didn't want to be the least enthusiastic of the bunch even if I already was.

In the foyer, the front doors of the firm open to reveal Mr. Yung and Harry, both of them dressed in suits — only difference was Harry opted for a no-tie-look as usual. Addison's rambling disperses further, reduced into white noise as I watch the two men converse quietly, their respective guards standing a few feet behind them. They pause their movements, exchanging a few words before Mr. Yung casually departs in the opposite direction towards his office, his guard following behind him. I lower my eyebrows in curiosity, watching Harry sigh to himself, hand running through his hair — a movement that was representative of his already evident stress.

A moment passes. He's standing there alone, shutting his eyes and inhaling deeply. The evidence of his anger and frustration were clearly depicted in the frown and the dark look that he settled on. Everything about his current demeanor was disquieting, and I took note of the way he beckons Axel with a movement of his index finger, giving him a demand that Axel quietly and wordlessly accepts. The large man exists the firm moments later, and Harry is left standing at the foyer. A fraction of a second lingers before we make eye contact.

Our distance is considerable, but we could see each other just fine. I could see the details and he could see them, too. His face falls very gradually, his hands slipping into the pocket of his slacks. The rigid expression of his makes me look away, and I ignore the tension I feel due to his presence, until it disappears, and he's gone into what I assume is his office.
"Okay, spit it...Mr. Styles looks at you like he's obsessed," Addison suddenly says.

Mid-chew, I cough and bring my fisted hand to my mouth, covering whatever salivated contents could escape past my lips. Big eyes almost bulging out of my head, I stare at her in absolute surprise before swiftly blinking and recomposing myself. Voice raspy, I nervously inquire, "What? No, he doesn't. He's..."

Addison's left eyebrow raises, her lips curving up into a knowing smirk. The brown of her eyes interrogates the light warmth of mine, and she simply hums to herself, shrugging as she digs her for into her own fruit salad. The scent wafted past my nose, making me sick with anxiety. I didn't think Addison would do much with her suspicions, but the fact that she saw right through it was extremely unnerving.
"I've said this before, Athena. You're a horrible liar," she muses. "It's okay. I'm not going to tell anyone." For a second, she looks to her bowl before popping a sliced strawberry into her mouth, then proceeds to look at me with a humorous glint in her eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Addison."

Keeping her remarks curt, she scoffs and lowers her head, eyes jovially narrowing at me. "Oh, please. Athena, the second you guys walked in together, I just knew it. His hair was still drying, and you barely bothered to dry yours. You guys definitely spent the night together and an interesting morning. And yes, be surprised by my attention to detail. That's what got me into law school."

Preoccupied with just one detail, still taken aback, I sputter, "I-I...I didn't dry my hair very well...so what?"

She lets out a brief laugh, momentarily biting into her wooden fork before stating, "So it's true."

"What? No —"

"Athena, it's fine. If he was my boss, I'd be... woo, only the lord knows. This stuff happens in the real world. Gosh, it's not even taboo anymore, people do it for the thrill. It's fun," she insists, dismissing my fearful face and my obvious concerns. "All legal and consensual, of course," she quickly adds.

"Yeah, but ethically speaking, not so much," I quietly mutter, my face red, my skin tinted a pink in the temperature sensitive areas. I set my fork down and place my hands over my cheeks, pressing gently against them to try and cool down. My anxiety rose too quickly and too suddenly.

"Calm down," Addison reassures quietly, her eyes glancing around the area, past the foyer, and then back. "He walked in just now and you two could have not been more intense. Anyone who pays attention could see it. And the problem is...everyone here is that kind of person. Not a single detail flies past the people you'll be around tonight, Athena," she tenderly advises, the humor of her previous antics entirely diminished.

She had a point. If I was going to the event tonight, there was simply no way to interact with Harry without making the intensity of our private "relationship" posted in bold letters across our faces. It could be easier for Harry to suppress his thoughts and focus his attention elsewhere, but now I was petrified of letting myself slip. I was more concerned with people like Mr. Yung. Suddenly, I was hyperaware of the quality of people surrounding me at the firm. If my mother's betrayal was not enough to make me see the true content of man, then this was another eyeopener.

"You seriously can't say a word about this," I beg her steadily, my tone urgent, but very demanding.

Addison nods. "Understood. There's no reason for me to, and I won't gain anything from telling anyone. If anything, none of these perverted assholes would care either. It's a pat on the back for Harry to score a young intern," she brutally points out, her honesty appreciated, but it was a little hurtful. And it was true. She notes my defeated expression and my silence, interjecting, "I'm not saying...whatever it is that you have with him...is...Athena, I'm not trying to reduce your relationship to just that. I —"

"No. It's fine. What we're doing is just for fun. I...it's just play," I insist, grabbing my fork again and digging it into the salad. "We don't have any sort of relationship other than sex — and work."

Eyebrows raising, she curiously inquires, "Is the sex...good? I can't imagine he's bad in bed."
And we returned to the previous antics. She accepted my claims, and for the time being, I had to accept them, too. Grinning sheepishly, I roll my eyes at her question and hear her let out a mischievous giggle. "Um...he's my first, so... I wouldn't know. I don't have anything to compare it to," is all I say.

She rolls her eyes now, and retorts, "Oh please. You know."

Blushingly, I quietly mutter, "Yes?" I grimace as she squeals with laughter, clearly entertained. I've never had this type of bonding with anyone, and it was amusing to experience it with Addison. She was not one to hold back on her opinions and thoughts, and fittingly, she had very little motive to filter her words. Slouching and leaning closer to the polished, wooden table, I put my head down in shame and embarrassment, sporting a smile regardless as she laughs in mockery.

Jonas walks in a second later, our laughing hushed and reduced to silence. I catch a glimpse of him; dressed in khaki slacks, a blue button up, and a dark navy tie. His olive skin tone was tinted darker from the time he spends outside in the sun playing soccer with his friends. I knew these details simply because he was lively talking about them whenever he got the chance.

He sets down the laptop bag that was strapped on his shoulder over the table beside ours. Addison and I turn our heads to acknowledge him, just as he begins to unpack the lunch bag he was also carrying. Head lowered from his focused sight on the lunch, Jonas hears Addison greet him before he flatly responds, "We're on speaking terms, suddenly?"

Addison glances at me, her expression of agitation growing in prominence. Exhaustively, she sighs, "Jonas, you're not still hurt over the fact that I got a better grade than you on that assignment? You're such a child."

I bite into my lip in an attempt to stifle my amusement. Nobody here was the withholding type. I grew fond of their abrasiveness and their talents ranging from extreme, borderline-narcissistic self-absorption to sinister comedians. I was so far from their personalities if we were speaking in terms of similarities, that I didn't know what exactly George saw in me when he reviewed my application apart from the encouraging words Harry offered. I was thrown into a pack of wolves as the raw meat. But occasionally, the wolves had heart, as in Addison's case.

Jonas grumbles to himself and places a container on the table, arranging his prepared food. He takes his seat, agitated, and huffing. The behavior he was displaying was child-like indeed, a toddler throwing a tantrum. But Addison was not interested in further provoking him. Instead, she reaches for her metal flask of water and takes a sip, rolling her eyes. Jonas pops the container of his food open, sending her a swift glance. I look between the two rivals.

Eyebrows raised, and eyes widened, my mouth forms an 'o' shape, recognizing the awkwardness of the interaction. I don't make any attempts to lighten the mood, figuring they couldn't possibly move from that tension to a more light-hearted conversation. All three of us eat in silence, and I bask in the tranquility regardless of the daggers and laser eyes the two of them were sharing amongst themselves.
"Interns!" George's gruff voice suddenly tears into the tense silence, and the stalky, short man walks in, a broad smile plastered on his face. His usual enthusiasm and positivity were the signature of his personality, and the elated demeanor he displayed was the cause of headaches; he didn't use a very appropriate volume when addressing us. Addison turns in her seat to face him, and I stop the movement of my hand, dropping the work into my bowl. Jonas looks up from his food. "Tonight's a business formal event. That means, Jonas, don't wear those shoes," George remarks quickly, pointing his index finger at an irritated Jonas. He stops chewing and glowers immediately in response. "I was telling the other interns this is a good networking opportunity. Try to initiate some relationships with the organizations and department heads present tonight."

Addison delightedly raises her hand only to a small distance, curiously inquiring, "And who will be present tonight? Do you know?"
George's dark eyes squint momentarily as he racks his brain for some names. "Legal funding organizations, a few politicians, department heads of graduate programs across the country, you know. People who typically have an interest in seeing legal change, on all levels. Whether that would be local, state-wide...federal. Some pretty important people."
"Ooh," Addison gushes happily, turning to grin at me with apparent eagerness, which I didn't return too easily. I force a smile, eyes widening for a second, pressing my lips together as my enthusiasm was harder to expression when it was so evidently not there. Clearly, I was not excited as Addison, or Jonas for that matter, who says something about the cannabis industry. Addison scowls at him, finding his comment inappropriate, only to receive a petty comment about her lack of depth. George taps his hand against the wall, sighing to himself and pursing his lips before deciding to ignore the two-bickering student and leave.

While the two exchange a quipping, intellectual series of remarks, mid-sigh, I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I snicker at the two arguing students, reaching behind me to slip my phone out and quickly look to the lit-up screen. A text from Harry makes my entertained smile fade away, instantaneously filling me with suspense. I bite the inside of my cheek, eyes running over the simple sentence over and over again.

Harry: My office. Now.

Taking a quick sip of my can of soda, I set the (new) phone down on the table and quickly and silently begin to gather my things. As Addison nearly gnarls at Jonas, I pop the cover over my bowl. I glance at her quickly and she happens to look away from Jonas in my direction. I send her a knowing look and whisper, "Work calls" as I gather my things in my hand, strapping my bag over my shoulder. Bidding Jonas a quick goodbye that he easily ignores, I toss out my things and see Addison naturally return to her heated discussion with Jonas.

Swiftly walking towards the elevator, I press my lips together and inhale deeply, preparing myself to face him after the strange morning we had. My heels create a clattering sound with every step. I approach his door and knock a few times, hearing his flat, deep voice permit my entrance. Pushing the door open, and avoiding his face when I'm past the doorway, I move with surprising ease to situate myself in his office. Door locked and closed, I set my things on the coffee table by the sitting area of his spacious office. I note the absence of Axel, who he had sent away before retreating to his office earlier.

"Yes, Mr. Styles," I breathe out as dryly as I could bravely muster, which wasn't very disinteresting at all. I clasp my hands together in front of me, standing across him from his wooden, polished desk where he sits. My eyes blink a few times, fluttering nervously before I gather all my courage and gaze at him.
His image speaks a stern neutrality that he is determined to maintain, which is executed with ease. I wondered what he was thinking about as we stared at each other, the backdrop of our collective consciousness replaying flashbacks of the heated, sensual moments of intimacy. I knew behind the green of his irises he was seeing the same movie every time we locked eyes. Impatiently, I tap my fingers against the fabric of my pants across my thigh, awaiting his response with apprehension.
"I'm Mr. Styles now?" He curiously questions, leaning his elbow onto the desk. His hand comes to grip his chin, the two dark silver rings on that hand glistening under the office's lights and the daylight pouring in from outside. It was strangely radiant inside the room, making his pink lips appear pinker, the green of his eyes a more saturated shade, and his skin appeared smoother. In his loose, short sleeve, black button-up, he looked almost like a prince. Curling, dark hair swept back, combed neatly behind his ears.

Hesitantly, I mutter, "It's appropriate."
Removing his hand from his chin, leaning back into his seat and entwining his hands on his lap, he remarks, "Appropriate?" He clicks his tongue a few times, one end of his lips curving upwards slightly and the beauty mark by his mouth going with it. "You want to be appropriate, a'right." Harry shrugs a shoulder and knowingly watches me.

I pause, my mouth drying, and my tongue gliding around in my mouth before I casually ask, "What do you need?"

"I want breakfast. The usual," he responds simply, nonchalantly. My mouth parts and I just look at him, privately more bewildered inside my head than I appeared. When I shut my mouth again, he raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes, beckoning me to leave and get to his order.

Inhaling sharply and then huffing out a quiet laugh, I sputter, "You're joking?"

"No, I'm not," he states steadily, pausing before interjecting, "And when you're done with that, you can take this —," he leans over and reaches out one arm, a silver card between his fingers. "— And purchase the things I've asked for in the text you'll be getting in a few."

Gawking now, I stare at him with big eyes full of surprise, a glint in them from the deep wonder his behavior was inducing. "I'm sorry?" I gently retort, my face softening with disbelief. Right before it gets contorted into a frown. Still taken aback, I remark, "You can't be serious, Harry."

"It's Mr. Styles to you, innit, love?"

"Mr. Styles," I mutter cuttingly, "You've never asked me to get you breakfast. There's no 'the usual', if I remember correctly."

He retracts the hand offering the card, setting it back down onto his desk. "Surprise me, and maybe if I like it, I'll reimburse you for your help in any way, maybe with my head between your legs, if that's appropriate enough," he coolly suggests.

My face, like a gradient falling to one solid color, grows hot and pinked across my cheeks and the tips of my ears. I blink away the surprise from my eyes and exhale slowly. My legs brush against one another as I shift my weight from one hip. Nervously, I stroke my hair behind my right ear. And as courageously as I could, I calmly state, "That won't be necessary."

That was a lie if there ever was one. I certainly would oblige, but I was taken aback by his orders. It was not a monumental request, and actually, quite fitting for an intern. But we knew each other on a different level now, and while it may entitle nothing in this context, I knew his request was simply to retaliate. It was exactly why I didn't want to adhere to his demands. But I knew I was weak and ready to indulge.

He watches me carefully, eyes narrowing. I could feel my stomach churning with anticipation, abdomen tightening with a growing hunger. His words made my panties wet, and the pressure building between my legs was indicative of how I really felt towards his offer. Harry hums lowly, hand flat against his desk, fingertips tapping gently onto the polished wood surface. "Is the door locked?" He asks quietly.

Inhaling deeply, I nod.

Voice low, he states, "Good." My heart beats a little faster, my pulse racing. I stand before him nearly fidgeting, averting my eyes to my clasped hands, retreating into my usual shying demeanor. I hear him mutter, "I apologize, Athena. That I've made things tense. Would it help if we set terms?"

I look up at him curiously. "Terms..."

"Yes. I'm sure that would make things easier. I'll start," he tells me, pushing his chair back and standing to his feet. I unclasp my hands and let them hang lazily at my sides. He established a dominance with his height and stature, dressed in all black and sporting a sternness even his patient strides displayed. My breath pauses in my throat when he's in front of me, leaning back onto the desk. He crosses his arms over his chest, and I watch him perceptively. "I want you to myself. I will not share and do not intend to," he lowly warns.

I shouldn't have liked what he was saying so much, but I did, and it saturates the pink of my cheeks and permeates the widening of my warm eyes. Assuming it was my turn, I breathe, "Okay. Then I want the same...from you." In response, he simply nods, expecting me to propose a new term. "It's not my business what you do with your high-profile cases, that's true. But on all other things, I want honesty from you."

"Of course," he agrees easefully. "Like I've said before, I'll provide you with anything you need, want. In return, I just ask that we maintain our privacy. What we do is nobody else's business, understand?" That was a warning. I nod my head, knowing that there was a bit of a breach already in that area, but I do not plan on mentioning it. Moving forward, I won't entertain Addison's prodding. I understood why he would want this to be private, considering it could jeopardize or humiliate a few people if it were to reach the ears of the public. And of course, the fact that he's on a high-profile case at the moment does not alleviate some of the pressure. Finally, after a beat of silence, Harry asks, "Anything else?"

"Hm, no," I gently answer.

"Okay," he almost whispers.

"Still want that breakfast?" I ask seriously, feeling a tad bit more generous than before.
He uncrosses his arms and reaches a hand up to swipe his thumb across the tip of his nose, clearing his throat. His eyes never leave mine as he leans off his desk and takes the very few steps it takes to fully reach me. Just by the glint in his eyes, I understood he had something else in mind. "Hmm, yeah," he tenderly hums, distractedly as his hands grip my waist, our bodies close, enough to radiate warmth. My mouth parts, the corners of my lips curving upwards with my growing amusement. I start to giggle at his overtly inappropriate groping and squeezing.

My arms wrap around his neck almost naturally, moving my head away as he insists upon pressing up against me tightly, his face coming close to mine. Mid laugh, I mumble, "I don't think you necessarily deserve breakfast."
"Hmm, but yes I do," he groans, his face hidden in my neck, his hands groping my backside, pushing me closely up against him. Grunting every so often as he squeezes me tighter, wrapping his arms around my waist, I accidentally laugh too lively, my hands pressing against his shoulders to playfully challenge his strong embrace. Feeling his nose brush against the skin of my cheek, tickling the surface, made me even more eager to laugh, his sweetness swaying me away from the memory of his previous antics.

A knock interrupts my animated laughter, and chills me as in an instance, the surprise and fear causing both of us to create distance between our bodies. Gasping, I stare at Harry with widened eyes, and his expression fades into one of seriousness. It took only a fraction of a second for us to depart and end the moment we were having. A few seconds pass and Harry slowly unlocks the door, asking the person to come in, now taking a seat behind his desk once again. I take a seat by the seating area in his office, crossing my legs and grabbing a notepad, figuring I should make myself look busy and all the none wiser.
"Mr. Styles," I hear a familiar voice say, while I keep my eyes trained onto the notepad on my lap. The door does not shut, and the man that stands in the doorway is Mr. Yung, Harry's close colleague in the high-profile case they've been discussing. "Miss Dulce," Mr. Yung nods in my direction, acknowledging my presence when I finally glance up at him from my notepad. His eyes then avert to Harry, narrowing and in silence, they exchange a few unspoken notes. Suddenly, I feel like my presence is not required and more importantly, not appreciated. Mr. Yung coolly warns, "There will be plenty of Ernest's men tonight at the org's event. Don't get too eager to get the details out of him."

Scribbling aimlessly on my notepad, I try my hardest not to hear, but it was within earshot, and even if not addressed to me, it was particularly interesting to hear Mr. Yung talk about their high-profile case. He seemed to think nothing more of my presence as he wasn't here to lay out all the details of their endeavors. I bite into my cheek and keep my eyes on the notepad as I hear Harry carefully respond, "Quite interesting that you'd find it necessary to warn me about Ernest's presence."

Mr. Yung doesn't say anything, and before he turns to leave, he glances in my direction. I note the way Harry watches him observingly, squinting his eyes in curiosity. The older man exits the room, and I avoid the gaze Harry sends my way as the door of his office closes. I brace myself for his voice to somehow interfere with my steady reluctance to look in his direction. Aware of the tension that lingered from Mr. Yung's abrupt visit and settled even after he left, we both keep our silence. Until he sighs, and says, "Athena."

"What?" I respond quickly, flipping through a file Harry had assigned to me that was now on my lap. Sensing his refusal to speak until I look at him, I cease my my page flipping and gaze up, locking eyes with him. Mr. Yung's presence frightened me and the cold, dry interactions Harry seems to have with him give off a sinister aura. Pursing my lips, I clasp my hands together, paper crinkling quietly beneath on my lap. "Sorry, yes?"

Harry slides the card against the polished surface of his desk, right between his fingers as he lifts it in one hand. "Take this. Buy yourself what you need for tonight," he simply demands, not bothering to acknowledge my expression of stunned silence. He attends to the file he opened up, expecting me to oblige with some reluctant, but clearly not enough to cause concern or an provoke an effort to convince me.

Lips parted, I hesitate to answer. I blink and set my things aside, bewildered when I inquire, "I'm sorry? What?" This had to be a joke. This man was surely not handing over his credit card to me to go shopping midday.

One hand jotting down a signature on a document, Harry flatly remarks, "Athena, come here. And take this. I have things to do before tonight's event."

"An event you didn't say a word to me about," I interject with curiosity, standing to my feet and approaching his desk. My arms cross over my chest, and I stand beside him now, towering over him.

He ignores me, blatantly, and sighs as he leans back into his chair, tipping his head back to look up at me. Raising his hand up, he holds the card between his fingers higher for me to grab. "Johnson will drive you," he informs me straightforwardly.

Raising an eyebrow, I softly ask, "Did you already plan this out? Is this on your schedule? Sending me away with your credit card?"

He mimics my expression, raising his eyebrow, too. "Athena," he exasperates with slight agitation. "What do you want me to say, princess? No? Of course I did." He sends me a forced smile, mocking and teasing me.

I huff, glowering down at him. "I don't need your credit card. And...I'm still curious as to why you didn't say anything to me about this event? Did you not want me to go?"

"Don't interrogate me. And it just didn't come up. To be frank, I was preoccupied with you, if you hadn't forgotten," he murmurs darkly, looking up at me through his lashes.

My tongue pokes the inside of my pink cheek in thought, squinting my eyes at him. He was such a handsome, clever man, and as he waves his silver credit card at me with such smugness, I knew it takes strength to refuse the luxury he so graciously puts in front of me. With an attitude, I go to take the card from his hands, barely having come up with a good excuse to not take it. It was tempting to give in. However, he brings his hand back, pulling it away quickly before I had the chance to grab it. I stare at him, frowning with confusion before I see the smirk faintly curving up his mouth at one corner.

"I'm pretty sure this is a distraction...and it's probably extremely inappropriate," I whisper.

"I can't possibly distract you," he ensures.

"Look at it this way — you're mine to take care of."

Blushingly, I breathe, "I can't use your money."

"It's just money."

"It never is," I remark, exhaling and momentarily looking away from him. When I do, his eyes are wandering my face. "Why are you so willing to give me money in exchange for my silence?" I almost playfully question.
Harry breaks into a breathy laugh, his perfect teeth on display, a dimple sinking in his left cheek. "Don't make this political," he muses. "You deserve it, no? And I would kill to see you in something sexy."

Biting the inside of my cheek, struggling to suppress my girlish grin, I roll my eyes. Shaking my head, I mutter, "You already gifted me a new phone, a laptop... You can't buy me."
"I'm not trying to, I don't need to," he insists lowly, looking at me observantly. "I don't have time to discuss this anymore."

"It doesn't sound like a discussion. Just sounds like you know what you want and what you want me to do," I retort knowingly.

Offering me his card again, this time letting me take it from him, he slowly and teasingly says, "You're so smart."

"Mhm," I hum gently. "I will not enjoy this," I affirm, almost trying to convince myself. He's entertained with my response, and I struggle to maintain a serious expression.

He hums deeply, nodding his head, clearly unconvinced, but he wasn't going to make an effort to have his mind changed. Like I was never here, he returns to his work, orienting his body and thus his seat forward. I stare at him for a moment, feeling the card beneath my fingertips. Biting into my lip, I turn around and intend to grab my things, but instead, I find it in myself to bravely turn around and move my hip to interfere between him and the desk. He stops writing at my intrusion, and looks up. I give him little time to respond, instead straddling his lap. My thighs at either side of his hips, I place my hands over his chest, feeling up against the fabric of his button up. "Are you listening to me?" I softly question.

Harry remains quiet, staring at me so blankly I thought a battery died in him. But as his hands come to rest around my waist, I knew he was functioning just fine, just with a surprise that was hard to catch him in. "I am now..." he whispers gruffly, clearing his throat as his eyes wander down, taking in the way my body sits over his lap. I watch his Adam's apple shift in his throat, and he exhales through his nose, his nostrils flaring slightly. My fingertips brush the collar of his shirt, which I then grip, tugging on it gently.

"The door is unlocked, Athena," he reminds quietly, though his eyes are narrowing and his gaze is dazed as it focuses on my lips.
Raising my eyebrows, I lean into him. Our faces are close enough that our noses brush. I can feel his breath fan against my lips, which I bring closer to his own. A very faint kiss is placed over his mouth, and I pull away only to feel him adorably follow my movements.

Pressing my hand against his chest, I mockingly whisper, "You're so smart."
He realizes my intentions and his face softens, growing amused by my antics. As he raises an eyebrow, he says, "Establishing dominance. I like it. Save it for tonight, though."

"Haha," I dryly respond, deciding to get off his lap. As I move, his hands slide off my hips. One comes up to rub his fingertips over his lips, forcing a grin away even as I grab my things and exit his office.

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