IRL: In Real Life (After Oscar, #1)(41)

But the day wasn’t over yet.

He glanced toward me, and I wondered if he realized I’d been staring. He lifted an eyebrow. “Everything okay at work?”

“We’re needed back at the office.”

His eyes widened. “We?”

“Paperwork to go over. Apparently it involves both of us.”

“Just the two of us?” The pitch of his voice was a little higher than usual. It was adorable.

I smothered a smile. “Unfortunately your friend James had other plans. He said to continue without him.” It wasn’t exactly what he’d said, but close enough as far as I was concerned.

Conor worried his bottom lip again, and I had to look away or else I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from staring at the way his teeth worked the sensitive flesh. “Okay. I guess… I guess we might as well get it done.”

What I wanted to say: hopefully that’s not all we get done.

What I did say: “Good. I’ll text Hank.”





I’d spent the last forty minutes hard as a rock, not even the rote mundanity of the paperwork able to put a dent in my lust for Conor. It was torture to sit across the conference room table from him and not be able to touch him. I wanted to sweep the stacks of documents to the floor and bend him over the gleaming expanse of wood. I wanted to rip the shirt from his shoulders and drag my fingers down the column of his spine as I pressed my cock against his ass.

I shifted, my pants growing even more painfully tight. I wanted him. Badly. But I couldn’t have him. Not yet. It would complicate the negotiations and potentially bork the deal. Once the contracts were signed, he would be mine. But until then…

I sighed, shifting in my seat. If only my brain could get the message to my cock. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand to be in the room alone with Conor, the sound of him… the sight of him… even the smell of him invading my senses. Like the outdoors on a crisp winter afternoon.

I forced myself to focus on my computer, struggling to make sense of a column of numbers on some spreadsheet summarizing laboratory test results. But I didn’t care. That was the problem. It was boring. While Conor… Conor was everything but.

My eyes flicked across the table. He’d been methodically making his way through a thick stack of documents, not once breaking his focus to glance my way. Clearly my presence wasn’t nearly as distracting for him as his was for me.

I decided to change that. I was afraid it would be too obvious if I used my phone to text him, so I muted notifications and slipped it into my pocket. Then I clicked open the text program on my computer, pulled up my recent conversation with him, and started typing.

Wells: How has your day been?





His phone vibrated against the table, the sound loud in the silent conference room. He jumped, letting out a squeak of alarm. “Sorry,” he mumbled, snatching it and thumbing it open.

I watched as he read my message. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Something swelled in my chest at the sight of it. Something possessive. That smile was mine. I’d been the cause of it, and I wanted more.

NotSam: Good. Busy, though. Sorry I haven’t been able to text more.





Wells: I understand—work comes first. Have you at least been thinking about me?





His smile grew, accompanied by a soft flush to his cheeks. It made him look fucking adorable.

NotSam: Yes.





Now it was time to make him squirm.

Wells: Have you been thinking about me fucking you?





His eyes went wide, and I watched him bite his lip as he struggled to school his features. He cleared his throat before typing.

NotSam: Yes.





I decided I liked watching him get my texts. I liked seeing him struggle to contain himself, knowing I was the one causing those reactions. It made me want to push harder, further. I focused again on the screen and typed another message.

Wells: What would you want me to do to you, if I were there in front of you?





Conor let out a kind of strangled whimper, the tips of his ears flaring a bright red. I glanced up at him again. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. Yes, yes. I mean, yeah. Yes. Fine. Things are fine. It was just a… text. That… you know. I got and… anyway, yes. Everything’s okay.” Now his cheeks had begun to glow as well. Excellent.

I returned my focus to my computer, pretending to concentrate on the minutia of the spreadsheet, but instead every sense was tuned on Conor. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he typed up a response, and then I clicked over to the text screen.

NotSam: Now’s not really the best time. I’m still in that meeting.





Wells: With your hot boss?





NotSam: He’s not my boss.





I faked a cough to hide my smirk before responding.

Wells: But he is hot, yes? Describe him to me.





Conor’s eyes flicked up. I kept my attention on my computer, pulling up an empty Word document and typing gibberish to make it look like I was actually working. I could feel him studying me, his gaze tracing over my features in an almost physical caress.