Office Hate: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Rachel Van Dyken

“I mean, really.” She let me flip her onto her back and looked up at me with big blue eyes. “What was Monica talking about? Like which area did you think that, oh—”

  I grinned. “Good question,” My fingers slid between her thighs as I pinched her clit. “It’s not rocket science, but…” I leaned down and pressed a heated kiss to her neck, then sucked her skin near her ear. “Still needs practice…though I weirdly only want to do it with my enemy.”

  “Good…because…” She lifted her hips. “…I would hate to see how you treat your friends.”

  I growled, and then both of us stopped talking as I gave her an orgasm that had both of us panting, with her hand wrapped around my cock.

  Chapter Twelve

  Olivia

  I let him touch me.

  And I wanted him to touch me more.

  Instead, I hesitated, my hand wrapped around him. His eyes twinkled with what could only be understood to reflect mischief and mayhem as he slowly pried his body away from mine and walked to the bathroom.

  The sound of the shower filled the room.

  The light filtered into the master.

  Was I supposed to follow him?

  Was that an invite?

  And why did I find it so sexy? His confidence that I’d just pant after him just because he knew how to use his hands!

  And I didn’t mean just for the tools.

  I lay back against the bed and sighed.

  I imagined a perfect world where water slid down Mark’s perfect body, and he let me lick each droplet off his perfect six-pack.

  Maybe he was scared in there…all alone. Snakes had been known to come up through the drains!

  In some…countries. I gulped.

  I mean, a good human would check on him, right? After all the trauma?

  I cleared my throat and stared at the bathroom door, willing it to open, and when another few minutes went by, I finally decided to check on him, like the good person I was.

  I jerked open the door and froze.

  He was standing there under the rain showerhead looking up at the ceiling, lips parted as droplets of water ran down his flawlessly sculpted chin, down his thick chest, his six-pack, and then…

  Damn it.

  How was it fair that he was so big? HOW?

  As if sensing me, he looked over, and that idiot crooked his finger at me. And what did I do?

  Cuss him out?

  Point and laugh?

  No.

  I started stripping.

  And then I was walking.

  And then I was under the showerhead.

  And he was devouring my mouth, and I was letting him because isn’t life too short anyway? Why not taste my enemy? A man who, in another world, would be a friend?

  Then again, friends? They don’t taste this way.

  They don’t taste like sinning.

  Or like I was falling, and only Mark knew how to catch me.

  His tongue swirled around mine, and then he was tugging my ponytail out and pulling my hair. Before I knew it, I was jumping into his arms, and he was pumping into me like we were horny teenagers. He felt so big, so good, so right that I just went with it.

  It happened way too fast.

  Like something you excuse to your parents, oh sorry mom I just fell on top of him, and he just happened to be naked, oh and same here.

  Gah, but so… good, so… good. “Don’t stop!” I screamed.

  “Never.” He pumped into me, his strong thighs slapping against mine as our mouths collided in a frenzy of kisses, tongue, and need.

  “Now,” I begged.

  “Bossy,” he replied, slamming his hands against the tile like he needed to hold on to something other than me to go harder.

  “Always!” I screamed as I climaxed, feeling him spill into me.

  Panting, I opened my eyes.

  He didn’t freak out like I expected or push me away and draw a line in the sand. He just kissed me once, twice, three times, and then I lost count as we kissed in the shower and washed each other.

  Only to walk out of it and pretend like we didn’t just alter the games.

  Office hate plainly back in place as we took our spots on the bed, each of us still breathing heavy.

  I wanted to change the game even though I knew it wasn’t possible. I wanted to alter the rules for us even when I told myself it couldn’t happen.

  One job.

  One opportunity.

  What was more important?

  Us?

  Or me?

  Even more confusing, Mark’s hand slowly found mine under the covers as we both fell into a restless sleep, and he laced our fingers together.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mark

  Well. I did it.

  I liked it.

  Dreamed about doing it more.

  And woke up so hard that it was painful to even look at Olivia when she turned on her side, her dark hair kissing her skin.

  It was still early.

  And let’s be honest, neither of us wanted to leave that bed. Leaving meant that things were going back to normal.

  It meant we were getting dressed and would soon go play another insane Emory game for Max, all in a vain attempt to prove to him we could handle anything he threw at us.

  Psychopath.

  “So.” Olivia gulped. “Another day in Max’s world. What do you think he’s going to throw at us next?”

  “At this point,” I rasped, “I don’t think I’d be surprised if he came riding into our apartment on a velociraptor.”

  “Very descriptive. Nice.”

  I winked. “Thank you.”

  Her smile had always been so soft and pretty, and I’d always appreciated it just as much as her constant scowls.

  “I’m surprised nobody’s knocked on the door with our next instructions,” I joked, barely getting the words out when the sound of someone knocking ruined our moment.

  “I’ll get it,” she said softly. “You know, in case it’s more snakes.”

  “Don’t even joke about that.” I shuddered. “I’m going to need therapy.”

  “Or just more sex,” she teased and then blushed. “Sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

  “Oh? You don’t?” I pulled the blankets off me.

  “Whoa there, careful where you point that thing.” She turned away like she hadn’t just seen me naked a few hours before.

  “Not my fault. Lying next to you…affects me. Hey, that’s where men and women aren’t equal!”

  “Tread carefully, Mark, very carefully,” she warned as she put on an old Black Tie sweatshirt.

  “All I’m saying is that it’s super easy for you to know I’m turned on or that I want you, and all girls have is this impressive way of staring right through you and making you feel the need to guess at their feelings and surprise-surprise, if you’re wrong, castrated!”

  “You’re not castrated.”

  “I’m never wrong.” I grinned, only to earn a smack in the shoulder from her before she walked by. “Hurry up, Mark, games to win, men to conquer.”

  I made a face after her.

  “Saw that!”

  I begrudgingly grabbed my sweats, pulled them up, and then reached for a vintage shirt and trailed after her as I shrugged into it.

  She already had a box on the table and was opening it. “Got any old sports injuries, Mark?”

  “Why am I afraid of this question?” I wondered out loud. “And yeah, two knee surgeries after a failed soccer career my first year of college.”

  She frowned down at the box then looked up. “I didn’t know you were a collegiate athlete.”

  My eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. “You never asked.”

  “But you—” I frowned. “Were you good?”

  “I was there on a full-ride, so yes?” I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter anymore, though. It may have been one of the many dumb reasons I decided that in order to feel better, I needed to have sex with a lot of girls and party my way through the re
st of the year, though it only lasted about two months before my dad threatened to kick my ass.”

  “And that was enough for you to stop being dumb?”

  “Have you seen my dad?” I laughed. “The guy’s huge.”

  “Bigger than you?”

  I smirked. “So many ways to answer that question, Olivia, so many interesting ways.”

  “Spare me the trauma.” I held up my hands. “All right, so this box has matching Spartan uniforms, both red. I get spandex, so yay me. You, at least, get normal shorts.” She held them up.

  “Where the hell does my dick go?” I snatched them out of her hands and looked inside. “Half of me is going to be waving as I run past people!”

  “There’s a fun visual, your penis dangling from your legs as parents cover their children’s eyes and scream, ‘it wasn’t supposed to be that sort of show!’”

  I glared. “Your sensitivity toward my plight makes me warm inside.”

  “Always here for ya, big guy.” I tossed him the full uniform and then grabbed the instructions. “All right, so big shock, today we’re competing in an Emory Games favorite physical challenge called I am Sparta.”

  “So we die?” I choked. “Have you seen The Three Hundred?”

  Olivia chewed her lower lip. “Look, it’s probably going to be against all these Emory Hotel employees who sit all day and have forgotten the joy of a nice long run!”

  “Do you run? Because I find zero joy when I run. I lift. Heavy things. Like…b-boulders.”

  “Did you stutter?”

  I raked a hand through my thick hair. “I’m just a little worried after yesterday’s games, and it only seems to be getting worse. Might I remind you of the snake meat?”

  She scrunched up her nose. “Agreed, that was weird.”

  “It’s all a test,” I muttered. “I’m convinced of it.” I walked over to her and looked inside the box. Okay, so it was more of an I’m just gonna peer over and make sure nothing terrifying jumps out and bites my neck.

  Thankfully, it was empty.

  I frowned. “That’s it? That’s all they gave us?”

  “Oh, that and a call time.” She slammed the paper against my shirt.

  We had to show up at night. “Does it worry you that we’re going to be competing in all things physical fitness at eight p.m.?”

  “I mean…” She pulled out one of the barstools and sat. “He’s eccentric…”

  “We keep using that as an excuse.”

  “True.” She yawned. “It’s fine, let’s just do the rest of our normal intern work and grade the master bedroom and add suggestions for…” She cleared her throat. “C-comfort.”

  “I think,” I said as I casually traced my fingers down her shoulder to her neck. “I preferred the master bath. You?”

  Goosebumps broke out across her exposed skin. She swatted my hand away. “Knock it off. We need to work.”

  “Yes.” I sat next to her. “Because we both need this job.”

  “Yup.” She still hadn’t opened her score sheet or the notebook. Instead, she stared down at it like it was going to come alive, then whispered. “I liked the master bath too.”

  I let out a groan. “Killing me here.”

  She gripped the pen in her hand so tight it looked ready to snap in half. “You know…” She cleared her throat. “It was really dark last night, so I didn’t really see all of the benefits of the bath; I mean, I’m sure there was a closet? Never saw the closet or even really used the um…towel warmer because, in a place like this, they normally have a towel warmer and vaulted ceilings and very interesting things in their…” She coughed. “Bathrooms.”

  Next thing I knew, she was drumming her fingertips against the countertop and glancing down the hall like there was some huge secret she had to discover, and the only way to find out was through my penis.

  At least that was how I envisioned the entire thing going down. Then again, I did semi-pass out into fantasy land when she bit down on her lip. Why the hell was that my kryptonite? Like I imagined her lips were thinking of me and how much they wanted to touch me, to suck, maybe lick—oh hell.

  “Yeah, me too. Let’s…go…it’s for science.” I jerked her out of her chair, and what do you know it, my enemy came willingly.

  Hah, get it? Because…?

  I was going to burn in office hate hell, wasn’t I?

  “We still have a few hours to work.” Why was I so out of breath?

  We stumbled into the bedroom and then the bathroom.

  I flipped on the lights and crossed my arms, pretended to be taking in the view when really, I was taking in her reflection in the mirror. “I fucking love science.”

  “I got an A in Bio,” she said between gasps as I reached for her hips and lifted her onto the countertops.

  “Good girl.” Her lower lip beckoned me as my mouth covered hers, my tongue tasting hers in a way that felt damn near primitive. “I fully believe in positive reinforcement.”

  She gripped my head like a vise between her hands. “Then do that again.”

  I didn’t need to be asked twice to do what I’d been fantasizing about since running into her freshman year. I tugged her lip between my teeth then sucked her the way I wanted her to suck me all the while she wrapped her legs around my body and held me so violently tight that I winced.

  It was a good wince though.

  One that promised some pleasure later as her small hands gripped my shirt, twisting it between her hands like she needed me to be both closer and unclothed.

  “Are we crazy?” I said between hasty kisses and heavy pants.

  An adorable moan escaped between her teeth as she tilted her head, taking my kiss in deeper and deeper; a man could die this way with a giant smile on his face and an explosion of stars in his eyes.

  “Yes,” I finally said, my voice cracked with emotion, because as crazy as this felt, it was right, so damn right, and the only way this was even happening was because we were competing, just like our tongues were right now, just like our bodies were fighting to take control.

  “Countertops.” My chest heaved. “Very sturdy.”

  “Agreed.” She kissed me again.

  I lifted her off the counter and walked her backward into the walk-in closet, then pressed her up against the back wall, tugging her shirt over her head with one hand. “Lighting, also nice.”

  “Not too bright.” She reached a hand between us, sliding my sweats past my hips as my cock bobbed against her bare stomach.

  I never realized I could want someone so much that every second I wasn’t inside her, joined with her, was torture.

  She pulled away from me as I jerked down her shorts then gripped her ass. “Very, very good lighting.”

  Her eyes were half-lidded as she looked up at me. “Yeah, I can almost see your dick…”

  I pinched her butt, then threw her over my shoulder and carried her into the next room, which was attached to the laundry room. “This should be fun…”

  Without any warning my sweats came down to my ankles and my shirt came clean off.

  “Wait, what are you—”

  Her chilly ass hit the even chillier front of the washer. “Damn technology, getting all silent and impossibly unhelpful.”

  “Worried you need help now, are you?” she teased.

  I flipped the button on the drier, slammed the start button as cheesy music filled the air. “I’m just testing the equipment, baby.”

  “Good.” She grabbed me so tight I winced. “Me too.”

  “Damn, I’ll work hard for a perfect ten.”

  “That’s all I ask,” she said as I set her on the dryer and started kissing her again; I slid my hand between her legs, testing her response begging the universe that it was something other than, that it?

  She moaned my name, sucking my fingers in as the combination of vibrations beneath her body plus my fingers had her clawing at my back. “I give it a nine.”

  I nipped her lower lip again. “Don’t be
a bitch.”

  “Don’t be a dick.”

  “Mmmmm, too easy to resort to the hate, am I right?”

  “I could do dryer hate sex.” She pressed a very unhopeful-like kiss to my lips, almost so soft it felt like it didn’t happen, and then she guided me between her thighs, and the last thing I was thinking was, wow, I used to really hate this girl.

  Then all I kept thinking was, is this heaven? Can I stay? If I die, can I be buried here and job? What job?

  I pumped into her, fully aware that we were being immature, dumb, twenty-two-year-olds with no condom, no inhibitions, and nothing but sweat between our bodies and it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last.

  I’d always cared.

  With her?

  All I could focus on was claiming her.

  And making sure she knew whose name to scream when she found her pleasure: mine, only mine.

  Her nails dug into my back, heels into my ass as she climaxed.

  I tried to stay strong.

  And lost that battle quite quickly and pathetically as I orgasmed on the spot. All we had left was the sound of the dryer.

  The feel of the sex between our bodies.

  Sweat.

  And a fairly accurate score of the master bedroom, bathroom, and laundry room, which led me to finally whisper against her mouth. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to say a nine point five for the dryer, you?”

  “Six,” she said quickly and then laughed. “But the man? Eh, he’s getting better; I’ll give him an eight.”

  You’d think she had just told me I was a sex god sent down to earth.

  “Ass.” I pinched her butt again.

  She just smiled and shrugged, but this time? This time she didn’t draw another line in the sand; this time…I could have sworn I was all she saw.

  Terrifying when the one thing you don’t want to lose but finally get—is finally close but so far away.

  “Come on.” I set her on her feet. “Let’s clean up.”

  “Yes, wouldn’t want to be late for the Emory Games,” she mumbled.

  “Especially when ours are so much better.” I shrugged, then laughed as she shoved me into the wall and ran toward the shower.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Olivia

  What the hell was wrong with me?