Office Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  “Nope. Paige’s art is way too whimsical to make me look cool.” Laughing, I shake my head. “And I’m fine. But, Mag?”

  “Yeah?” His hand strokes my arm.

  “Why were you checking the security footage?” I ask, carefully choosing my words.

  His huge shoulders roll as he shrugs.

  “It’s an app synced to my phone. I do it periodically when I’m away. I like to make sure my office is safe and sound.” He brings his fingers to my chin and tilts my face softly, bringing me into those sharp blue eyes.

  “News to me. So you’re able to look in on the zoo even when you’re not there?”

  “I was checking the office, not you. The cameras only cover my office and the main work areas. It’s not like I spy on everyone’s desk. Still, seeing you there was a relief,” he says, then his fraught smile sinks. “I’ve been paranoid ever since Marissa got attacked, I’ll admit. I need my EA safe.”

  “You called me yours again. Oops,” I tease with a small smile, burrowing into his chest.

  “You’re reading way too much into it,” he growls.

  I look up, loving how he turns away. “Hey, I thought it was sexy, but if I’m reading too much into it—”

  “No.” His eyes snap back to me and he slides a hand under my shirt, finding my nipple, making me sigh with the roughness of his fingertips. “We’ll stick with sexy.”

  * * *

  Two weeks later, I’m in the town car with Jordan perched between Mag and me. It’s actually warm enough for a light jacket with March right around the corner.

  For the first time, the boy doesn’t have his earbuds in, and he’s taking in the sights as they pass by, a big question mark on his face.

  “Guys, c’mon, where are we going?” he asks for the tenth time today.

  “It’s a secret,” Mag answers, zipping his fingers across his lips, also for the tenth time.

  “Brina?” Jordan asks, his adorably frustrated face turning to me.

  “Sorry.” I hide a smirk, studying my nails.

  “Aw, this is stupid. At least, give me a hint.”

  “You’ll like it,” I say. “There. That’s your clue.”

  He lets out one of those prized middle-schooler huffs, complete with droopy shoulders, but I can tell he’s excited, even if he’s trying to play it cool.

  “That’s the hint? Is it pizza again?”

  I laugh. “It’s too early for Pizza Shack.”

  Mag takes my hand and we spend the rest of the trip fending off Jordan’s questions until we stop in front of a wide flat brick building. A sixty-foot neon-red sign above the parking lot says Dreer Pharmaceuticals.

  “What’s this place? A pharma company?” Jordan asks as he climbs out. “I’m not here for a flu shot, right?”

  Mag steps out of the car, grinning as he helps me out.

  “No needles, I promise. What you should know is, everything’s negotiable,” Mag says matter-of-factly. “First rule of business. Will you remember that, J-man?”

  “Dude, why?” Jordan asks, irritation flaring in his voice. “Just hold your big speeches and tell me why we’re here.”

  Mag turns, bathing me in an excited look before facing Jordan’s impatient gaze again.

  “Because. I negotiated a full tour of the chem lab into the contract with our client here. I’m supporting your future career in science. You’re welcome.” Mag gives his brother a proud smile.

  “You—what? Whoa.” Jordan’s eyes become huge and he grins. “We’re touring a lab? Like, a real one?”

  “Yep. I wouldn’t waste your time with a fake.” Mag winks.

  “Finally something cool!” Jordan yells, pumping his fist in the air.

  A man lets us in the building and shakes Mag’s hand. “Are you the Heron party? Welcome.”

  “Yes.” He motions to me. “My EA, Sabrina Bristol.” He motions to Jordan. “And this is my younger brother, Jordan Quail.”

  “Pleasure to meet you both. I’m Grant Dreer, the owner of this company and grandson of the founder.” He nods to me, then Jordan. “Follow me.”

  We walk through a long off-white hallway and stop in front of a heavy blue door. “This is the lab we’ll be touring today, but you’ll each need to grab a jacket and safety gear first.” He points to hooks on the wall where white lab coats hang.

  We each grab one and pull it on.

  He moves deeper into a nearby closet and frowns. “Sorry, looks like we’re one short. I’m going to get goggles, but I’ll need you all to stay right here until I’m back. I can’t let anyone in the lab without safety goggles.”

  “Why?” Jordan asks.

  “Liability reasons,” Grant says with a benevolent smile in the boy’s direction. “If you get hurt in a chem lab wearing goggles, the insurance policy covers it. If not, the shareholders do, and they get mighty upset about that.”

  He goes behind the door and comes back with goggles for each of us. “You interested in pharmaceuticals, son?”

  “Yeah. Sort of.” Jordan nods, more eager than I’ve ever seen him, but trying to play it cool.

  “I’m going to get helmet hair,” I groan, pulling the goggles over my face. The rubber strap in the back bunches up my hair.

  “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 c
hance 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.”

  “No, but—I don’t want anyone to see us,” she says. “Shouldn’t you be careful?”

  Smiling, I say nothing, just comb my fingers through her dark, lush hair.

  “Why did you call me a suburbanite?” she asks, frowning.

  “Because.” I chuckle. “City girls know no one watches the security camera, and no one cares. Half of them are AI now, a human only looks when the system detects an unfamiliar face up to no good.” My lips brush her hair. “But since I don’t want anyone seeing you either, I turned the cameras in this room off an hour ago. The app lets me control that, too. You’re for my eyes only.”

  Her eyes pop, she grins wide, but her face turns bright red.

  “Dick! You had me worried.”

  I shake my head. “No, ma’am. I’ve wanted you here since the first time I saw you waltz in to torment me, and I’m not missing my chance. Believe me, I’ve thought of everything.”

  “Really? What if I had a headache?” she asks.

  “You don’t,” I growl, and my lips are on hers again. I break the kiss long enough to say, “But if you did, I’d cure it with a good Heron fucking. I hear that always get the blood pumping for relief.”

  She laughs, playfully batting at my chest, and then kisses me back.

  And this time when my hands clutch the hem of that damnable purple people eater dress, she doesn’t stop me. It sails over her head, and I work like a man possessed, unclasping a darker purple bra, edging it off her bit by bit.

  My lips are hunters, trawling down her neck, her cleavage, and finally I take a rose-pink nipple in my mouth while I roll the other nip in my fingers.

  “Oh—fuck,” she whimpers, her face twisting beautifully.

  Her legs swing back and forth wildly as she collapses against me.

  She kicks me once or twice, feeding the appetite in my blood.

  Fuck yes, I’m going to have this woman for all seven courses, if I don’t have a goddamned heart attack first.

  I push her back gently onto the empty space of my desk with a growl.

  Guess we’ll be finding out if this thing’s really as well crafted as they promised.

  It’s hard not to chuckle at that, even as hot fury thickens my blood.

  I take one last suck of her tit, bend away, turn her so she’s sideways, and then help position her in front of me.

  Grabbing her legs, I pull her closer so her ass is at the edge of the desk, her legs dangling down, ready for my hungry mouth.

  With my fingers tucked into the waist of her pantyhose, they skim down her long legs. I remove them so her feet are bare as I kneel, pressing a kiss to both of her ankles.

  Her toes curl as my lips stamp a trail up her legs.

  I’m torturing her, and I love it.

  I’m also mapping every last bit of the forbidden, the first of many nights I’ll fuck her in this office.

  I inch upward with hot, feral kisses, then up her shin to her knee, and up her thigh to her hip. When I come to deep purple fabric just like the bra, I press my face against it, tongue out, forcing her panties into her wet, steaming center.

  I swear to fuck, I’ll eat her out until she screams so loud it breaks glass.

  “Mag...” Her thighs tighten around my neck. “Oh. Oh, shit!”

  If my mouth wasn’t full of her panties, if my tongue wasn’t carving my name into her slit, I’d grin.

  If there’s one thing I love, it’s riling her up so much she drops the nice girl preten
se.

  Let her swear like a sailor and beg for every inch of me.

  Let her go full, unadulterated carnal for each slash of my hips.

  Let her call me all the fucking names in the book—with her, I deserve them, too.

  Pushing deeper, I sink my teeth into the purple panties, grab hold, and yank them off, before kissing down again.

  Now there’s nothing between her opening and my plundering tongue.

  She quivers. A full body ripple that makes my balls hurt like burning coals.

  Hell no, I don’t need to linger. One stroke of my tongue on her wetness tells me she’s ready.

  I love her taste more than I love a billion dollars, and I inhale her scent like a man starved.

  My face digs in with even more gusto, lapping harder, tongue delving deep, listening to her sweet sounds, holding her body still as she tries to writhe, but can’t.

  Not when she’s under my control.

  Her soft body tenses as she whimpers, begging me for more, reaching up to bite her wrist.

  “Tell me what you want,” I growl into her pussy, digging my chin into her so she’s forced to ride my beard.

  “You. Inside me. Now.” Her voice is tortured.

  Oh, we’ll get there.

  But first, I can’t resist bringing her over the edge. I suck her clit between my tongue, holding it prisoner, while my tongue lashes her into a release so intense she’s slapping my desk.

  This liquid heat pours out of her, against my face, and I drink in my reward. There’s no small pride that I’m the first man to make her squirt.

  I’ll also be the last.

  The thought of anyone ever having this pussy I own just makes me bring her off harder, my tongue slashing in jealous waves, helping her ride the high, gliding back to Earth.

  Normally, this is where I’d give her a sixty-second breather before licking her to heaven again.

  Not tonight.

  Not now.

  Not when my balls are so blue I think they’ve already won a state ribbon.

  My belt slips off in a hiss. My pants drop to the floor, and I stumble out of my boxers. Then I grab each thigh, anchoring myself to her.

  Her eyes are narrowed, amber-brown pools in the soft yellow lamplight. So fuck-hot I could die as I align the tip of my raging length and thrust into her with one fierce stroke.