The Virgin Intern (A Romance Novella)

by Penny Wylder

  “I will, don’t worry. Careful is my middle name,” I say weakly.

  He leaves without saying anything else, and I slump in my chair. I’m overheated and horny and exhausted. And angry. I hear a door shut somewhere in the house and I know my uncle has gone into his own room.

  I turn to Andrew, who’s finally pulling on his pants. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “That you look hot when you’re flustered, and that we were interrupted. I didn’t want to let Roger ruin the fun.”

  “Do you have any idea what would have happened had he walked in here?”

  He takes a step toward me, and I feel my body react instinctively, wanting to be closer to him. “Does it matter?”

  “Of course it matters. You may not have a lot to lose, but I do. Is what he said true? Are you just using me to take down my uncle and take over Grayson & Wates?”

  Andrew frowns at me. “How did your uncle suddenly end up at the center of this? What he thinks and how he feels aren’t relevant to what just happened between us.”

  “That’s a lawyer’s answer,” I say. “Because it doesn’t actually answer the question.”

  His eyes narrow. “Naomi, did you like the sex?”

  “Of course.”

  He reaches out to grab my wrist and pulls, causing me to stumble up against him. It’s very hard to ignore the fact that he’s still half-naked, and that his lips are inches from mine. “Then why does anything else matter?”

  My body protesting, I pull away. “Because it does.” He’s not smiling now, instead his face is stoic. I want to think he’s feeling hurt, but that’s not what I see. “You said you’d always tell me the truth. So tell me.”

  “I am telling you the truth. I really don’t see how your uncle or his approval has anything to do with us having sex.”

  Another non-answer. Maybe it really is true, and this is all a means to an end. “I need to take a shower. I have to catalog all those boxes downstairs and make sure everything we need made it here.”

  He moves to kiss me and I turn my head. No. Not like this.

  With a sigh, Andrew picks up his shirt and slips out the door. I hear his door close, and I let myself relax.

  That’s when it hits me. I’m not a virgin anymore. I smile, and allow myself to bask in the memory of that for a moment. But no, if Andrew is using me as a tool to take over the company, nothing more is going to happen. No matter how hot he is, no matter how good the sex, I won’t let my uncle’s company be taken over because of me. Even if my uncle is harsh, and an ass most of the time, he’s still the only family I have left.

  I close the door to the room and start getting ready for a shower. I wasn’t lying, I do need one. A cold one.

  As I’m heading to the bathroom, I see my underwear on the floor where Andrew was standing. They’re crumpled into a ball, and I can still see his come on them. I’ll just throw them away. It’s probably easier. As I pick them up, I think about how he took them and licked them like I was the best taste in the world. My pussy clenches in response. If he thinks I taste that good, I wonder what he tastes like…

  It would be so easy to find out.

  Before I can think about it more I lift them to my mouth and lick, drawing his come into my mouth. It’s still warm. A little salty, a little sweet, and not at all unpleasant. I swallow, and feel like I’ve just done something dirty…and hot. I take another taste, because if I have to give Andrew up, this might be my only chance. I stroke my tongue along my panties a third time before I throw them away.

  I rush into the bathroom, so turned on that I’m desperate for the cold water of the shower. But I know deep down that it’s not going to be enough. I get into the shower and before I can even feel the temperature I’m bringing myself to orgasm, moaning softly as I do. But now that I’ve had the real thing, this feeling will never be the same.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning, I wake up early, eager to drive back to the city and avoid seeing Andrew. I don’t want it to be awkward.

  Granted, it would be less awkward if I had never fucked him in the first place, but I can’t say that I regret that. I close my door softly, and head down the stairs. I grab a banana from the fruit bowl in the kitchen, and my keys where I left them on the counter last night. I have my bag, have everything.

  The door to the patio opens, and in comes Andrew, coffee in hand. I can feel the blood drain from my face, and even though he’s smiling, I bolt. I walk as quickly as I can to the front of the house and out, get into my car and start it. I think he might follow me, but the door to the house remains shut. I turn the car around and start to drive, putting on my most energetic playlist in an attempt to keep me distracted from my own thoughts.

  Because it’s so early there’s little traffic, and I make good time back into the city. The building is quiet, and I go to my little office to wait until the ten a.m. messenger delivery. My uncle wants me to make copies of the discovery—why is it always copies?—for several of the partners. After that I’ll head back out to the estate for the client meeting.

  I use the time to read some of the files from the Sterling murder. If I’m going to be helping out on it, I need to know more. There was no sign of forced entry into the mansion, but Mrs. Sterling was strangled to death. There was a sign of significant struggle inside the room where she was killed—the bedroom. In the first interviews, Mr. Sterling said he had no idea who could have done this. He admitted he had plenty of enemies in the corporate world, but didn’t know of any who would resort to murder. He swore he wasn’t in the house. They had a fight and he went for a drive, but the security system doesn’t show him leaving when he says he did.

  I get absorbed in the details of the case, memorizing what I can, and soon the alarm on my phone is going off, telling me it’s ten o’clock.

  The messenger is right on time, and thankfully the file isn’t as large as the ones from that first day. I don’t think this one is going to break the copier. At least I hope not.

  And it doesn’t. The copying goes smoothly, and I have the packets prepared in record time. I put them into the office mail slot to be picked up, and take a breath. At least today is going to plan. So far so good. I’ve avoided Andrew, and successfully completed my first task. Coffee. I need coffee.

  Unlike most offices, this place has amazing coffee. The espresso machine kicks major ass, and I deserve some of that goodness in my life before I drive another two hours. The coffee room is actually my favorite place in the entire firm. It’s warm and welcoming with deep armchairs, mahogany bookcases, and rich colors. There’s nearly always people in here reading files or taking a break, but I get lucky. Since it’s still early in the day the room is empty.

  I take my time making my favorite kind of coffee, and find the largest travel cup I can. I’m pouring the coffee into the cup when I hear the door open behind me. I hold back a sigh. It was only a matter of time before someone came in.

  “This was the second place I looked.”

  The coffee splashes over the edge of the cup and I bite my lip to keep from cursing.

  “The first was the copy room,” Andrew says as I mop up the spilled coffee.

  “Oh? Well I guess you just missed me in there.” Don’t look at him. Don’t engage. Don’t want him.

  Pfft. Fat chance of that.

  I feel him come up behind me. “You left before I could even say good morning.”

  “I had to get on the road.” I snap a lid onto the coffee cup.

  “Hmm…I thought it might have something to do with the fact that you think I’m a despicable person.”

  I turn around to face him, letting my anger into my voice. “I didn’t say that.”

  Oh, turning around was a big mistake. Because now I can see him in his perfectly cut suit, and now that I know what’s under it I’ll never be able to look at him the same way. He steps toward me, blocking me in with his arms on the counter. He always seems to try to keep me from running. But I suppose that’s my
fault since I’m the one who’s always running.

  “You didn’t say it, but it’s what you meant.”

  “You wouldn’t give me a straight answer.” I give him my best glare, and all he does is smirk.

  “I did give you a straight answer. It just wasn’t the one you wanted.”

  I stand up taller, squaring my shoulders and preparing to make a stand, but damn everything in me wants to kiss him again.

  He slides one hand down my ass and presses my hips against his so I can feel his cock rising. Fuck. I want this, and no matter what I say, I know that I do. My body is wet with anticipation; sense memory telling it that pleasure is coming. “And how was that a straight answer?” I ask him, my voice gone husky with lust.

  “No matter what my professional goals, Naomi, I told you that I wanted you, and I do. So when I have my tongue in your pussy, or when I’m sliding my cock inside you over and over again, or when you let me fuck your mouth, anything that is between me and your uncle is absolutely irrelevant.” His words spark images in my mind, and I’m so turned on that I’m halfway to coming. He moves his hand from my ass and slides it up my thigh, underneath my skirt. “Does that makes sense now?”

  “Yes.” It’s really the only word there is. Whatever the question is, the answer is yes. “I’ve never done anything like this, you know.” I’ve never let anyone this close, never let anyone touch me like this in public. It’s dangerous and addictive and hot.

  “Baby, I know. That’s what makes it so much fun.”

  His fingers find my clit, and I’m so wet that my stocking and panties may as well not be there at all. His thumb starts rubbing rhythmic circles, and the friction of the fabric and his fingers has me about to break. The door opens, and Andrew smoothly reaches up to the cupboard around me to get a cup as his hand disappears from under my skirt. In seconds it’s as if nothing happened except for the fact that I was denied an orgasm, and I could absolutely kill the woman who just came in for coffee, totally oblivious.

  Andrew pours his own cup of coffee, smirking at me. Holding back a scream of frustration, I head for the door. I can’t believe I let him get to me like that. Damn him for being so perfect, and so good. And damn his logic for actually making sense. Damn him for not making me come. Damn him. Damn everything.

  “Don’t forget your coffee,” he says when I’m almost to the door. He saunters over and hands it to me. “We all deserve some small pleasures that we’re actually able to finish.”

  With the image of his smirk burned in my mind, I head to my car and run away again.

  Chapter 7

  I swear that this morning had been a good morning. It really had been until Andrew showed up, making me want him. And just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, now there’s smoke pouring out of the hood of my car.

  It’s another ridiculously hot day, and I’m hoping that the car is just overheated, but this also means I’m going to be late for the meeting at the Sterling Estate. Won’t that be lovely.

  I pat the roof of my car, sad at the thought that this might be the end for it. It’s nothing special—just an old blue sedan I bought secondhand—but I’ve had a lot of moments in this car. Plus, my car is the only real place where I feel like I can sing and compose in safety. My uncle doesn’t want to hear it in the house, and I can’t afford a rehearsal space or studio time. Gas is cheaper, so I go for drives listening and singing and making mental notes of melodies for later.

  The tow truck is on its way, but it won’t be here for another hour, go figure. That’s what happens when you’re in the middle of nowhere, Florida. At least I’m stuck on the edge of an actual road and not on the edge of a swamp. There are far too many of them in this state.

  I lean against the car. It’s way too hot to sit inside without the air conditioning on. Outside there’s at least a chance for a breeze. A couple of people have slowed down and asked if I need help, but I’m fine, really. I haven’t called my uncle yet. I’m going to wait till the last possible second to do that. There’s always a chance of a miracle, like maybe the tow truck will show up early and I’ll get to the meeting on time. But the chance of that is about the same as the chance of an ice cold drink appearing in my hand right now.

  There’s another car on the horizon, but sadly it’s not a tow truck. It’s a sleek black car, and it’s slowing down. I get ready to wave them off, and force another well-meaning person to abandon their good deed of the day. Instead I curse. Loudly.

  No. Fucking. Way.

  It’s Andrew. Andrew is in the car.

  Of course he is, because he has to be at the meeting too. Of all the people I wanted to show up right now, Andrew fucking Finch wasn’t one of them. I’m already so confused about him, I don’t need him saving my ass on top of it to make me feel grateful and indebted to him.

  Damn it.

  And of course, he’s got that smile that makes my heart do little flips plastered across his stupid face. He pulls over, sliding up behind my car, and gets out. “Need a ride?”

  Yes, so that I’m not late. “I should really wait here for the tow truck.”

  He comes over and stands in front of me. “Are you saying that because you actually want to wait, or because you don’t want to get in the car with me?”

  There’s nothing but curse words filling my mind as I stare at the dirt. Why does he always seem to know what I’m thinking, and why does he always seem to see me at my worst? Without warning, I start to tear up. Great.

  “Hey,” he says, with real concern in his voice. “Naomi, it’s going to be okay.”

  “It’s not that,” I say softly. “It’s just…everything. And you always seem to show up when something’s going wrong. At some point I’d like you to see me when I’m not sweaty or failing or covered in ink.”

  Andrew puts his hands in his pockets. “First of all, ink is a really good look for you.”

  I laugh a little, still not looking up at him.

  “Second…do you know what I liked most about the copy room?”

  “The fact that I was practically naked from the waist down?”

  “No, that was a bonus. I liked the fact that you were fixing the copier at all. I don’t know of any paralegals in that firm that would have gotten down on their knees and wrinkled their clothes to try to solve the problem on their own. Why do that when you can just call maintenance?”

  I shrug. “What’s your point?”

  “My point,” he says, reaching out and tilting my face up so I can see him, “is that things happen. Life is messy. It’s okay if other people see the things that go wrong sometimes.”

  “That’s easy for you to say when you’re always playing the white knight.”

  He smiles, not a grin, but a full and beautiful smile. “Everyone needs a knight from time to time, even though I’d hardly cast you as the damsel in distress.”

  He leans down to kiss me. It’s sweet and soft and a perfect moment. An entirely different kind of kiss from the passionate hunger we shared before.

  “Now, come on. Let me drive you back. We’ll deal with your car later.”

  He’s right. I’d rather deal with the car later than face my uncle’s anger. Plus, after a kiss like that, there’s no way I’m not getting in Andrew’s car. I take a couple of minutes to cancel the tow truck and grab my things from my backseat, making sure that my car is locked. Andrew’s car is much nicer than mine, but I still miss my beat up seats and squeaky windows. It’s almost too quiet in here. I like that I can hear the sound of the road in my car.

  I try to relax, knowing we’ve got at least an hour drive ahead of us. We’re silent for a while, but it isn’t a bad silence. Just peaceful.

  Finally breaking it, Andrew asks, “Why do you work for your uncle?”

  I laugh. “Well, the short answer is that I don’t have another choice right now.”

  “And the long answer?”

  “It’s not that interesting,” I say, trying to deflect him off of the subject. />
  He’s smirking now. “I just figure that we should start to get to know each other, given what we’ve done so far. Things I don’t plan on stopping, by the way.”

  I blush, and turn to look out the passenger window, hoping that gives him the idea that I’m done with this subject. It doesn’t.

  “I’ll go first if you want. I grew up in New Hampshire with my mom, Dad left when I was ten. Had a pretty typical school experience, but I thought I wanted to be an architect. I thought they were cool, and the idea of designing something so permanent that could possibly change the face of a city appealed to me. Turns out though, I’m not a great architect, and I like people too much to be cooped up and hunched over a table. So I switched tracks and here I am.”

  “That’s not the whole story, though,” I say, watching his face for clues as I call him out. “You’ve risen too quickly at Grayson & Wates for that to be all of it.”

  “Richard Wates was the one who hired me as an associate. He liked me, decided to mentor me. I learned a lot from him, and he promoted me when he felt I had learned enough. Making me a senior partner was one of the last things he did before he retired. I’m surprised you know about that, though.”

  “My uncle has talked about you.”

  “Probably not good things.”

  I shake my head. “No. Not good things.”

  “All right, your turn.”

  I shake my head. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Fine. My parents died in a car crash when I was sixteen. I didn’t have any other family, so my uncle took me in. It was either him or the foster system. He and my father were not on good terms, so it wasn’t exactly a thing he did out of love. I moved out as soon as I turned eighteen, and went to Los Angeles. I wanted to be a singer. I worked as background singer and a songwriter, but I could never really get anywhere with my own stuff. Finally it got to the point where I couldn’t pay the rent, so I had to ask my uncle if I could come back and live with him while I got my feet under me.” I gloss over exactly how bad it got, and how much I didn’t want to ask him for help.