Beg Me

by M. Malone

  “I don’t regret it either,” Mya responds finally.

  Relief floods my veins and it’s as refreshing as a rain shower on a hot day. I didn’t know just how much it mattered to me until I thought she was having second thoughts.

  “So, what do we do now?”

  I know exactly what I want to happen. For Mya to follow me to my place so we can pick up where we left off in Vegas. Mind-blowing sex in a hotel room can only be topped by the comfort of my own bed. But based on her body language and the way her eyes won’t meet mine, I’m pretty sure she’s not up for a repeat any time soon.

  Or ever.

  “Milo, I just need some time to think. I don’t regret it. Not even slightly,” she says with a small smile that assuages my ego somewhat. “But now that we’re back, I have to think about what this all means because it doesn’t just affect us. James and the whole team are counting on us to pull off a win here. I’m not sure we can afford any distractions right now.”

  Everything she’s saying makes sense. I would love to argue that sex between us wouldn’t be a distraction but there’s no way in hell I can pretend that’s true. Every single thing about Mya Taylor distracts me.

  “You’re right.”

  “I am?” Her expression betrays her shock.

  “Hey, you’re not the only one worried about this blowing up in our faces. I just have two requests. Rules for this new reality, if you will. Number one, we don’t let things get weird. It happened and it was the most amazing night of my life. But if it can never happen again, I understand. We’ll keep things professional from here on out.”

  “The most amazing night of your life, huh?”

  I chuckle at her self-satisfied grin. “Yeah, it was.”

  “For me, too.”

  My heart shouldn’t be beating this fast at her admission. “Number two, that we keep things professional at work. The office is like Switzerland. Neutral ground.”

  “I completely agree.” Mya’s eyes meet mine and she looks grateful. “Thank you for understanding. And for… you know. Everything.” She blushes as she says it.

  And just like that I’m hard as a rock. With just one word, it’s like I’m back in that hotel room again, doing the most depraved things I can think of, all to make her shake with pleasure.

  Don’t make it weird.

  Keep it professional.

  “Milo? Mya? Are you coming?” James is waiting at the front of the plane. Everyone else has gone and we’re the only ones left. The flight attendant stands at the head of the aisle waiting.

  “Shit, I guess we’d better go before they kick us out.”

  Mya gathers her things and follows me off the plane. We walk across the tarmac and enter the main terminal. With a wave for James, I follow Mya onto the elevator that will take us to where she parked her car.

  We’re silent the whole time, having said everything we wanted to say on the plane. But this time, it’s not a comfortable silence, the air heavy with all the things I’m holding back.

  “This is me.” Mya points to her small gray economy car.

  “And I’m one level down.” We stand awkwardly for a few seconds before she opens her arms for a hug.

  Fuck professionalism, I think before sliding my hand up under her low ponytail and pulling her closer. If this is all I can ever have, then I’ll take it all. I close my eyes soaking up the sensation of her soft curves pressing against me.

  “I’ll see you on Monday, beautiful.”

  With a shaky nod, she climbs into her car and I watch as she drives off. Then I walk back to the elevators.

  We’ve already violated rule number one because that was definitely weird.

  Over the weekend, I have time to reset my equilibrium. Once I’m away from Mya, it’s like the fog clears a little and I can see how far into the weeds we’d gone.

  What was I doing? I’d finally met a woman who was open to sex with no strings and here I was pining for more. Mya was basically like a unicorn, that perfect specimen of woman that I’d always hoped I’d find. Beautiful, sexy and independent.

  So what the hell is wrong with me? I should be celebrating. Instead I just have a vaguely sick sense that I’ve lost something precious.

  I hate to admit that she might have been right about this affecting our work. Her behavior when we got back on Friday afternoon leads me to believe things will be awkward in the office. Mya could barely look me in the eye when we hugged goodbye so how are we going to collaborate effectively on the Lavin campaign? But it’s only going down that way if we allow it to.

  I arrive in the office early on Monday with my counterattack measures ready to go.

  As usual, I’m the first one in so I have the break room to myself as I brew the coffee. Before I’m done, Anya wanders in.

  “Hey, congrats on the Lavin meeting. I heard it went really well.”

  “Thank you. I think this is going to be one of our biggest projects to date.”

  I don’t bother asking how she heard about it already when everyone who went to Vegas didn’t report back to the office after we landed. It was already so late in the day and we were all exhausted so James told us all to go straight home. Anya always seems to know everything that’s going on around here. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if she knew what happened at dinner Thursday night as it was happening.

  Hell, Wallace might have even posted about it on Instagram.

  “Anya, does Mya have any meetings first thing this morning?”

  She shrugs. “Nothing that I’m aware of. Planning on sneaking into a supply closet with your fiancée?” It’s clear from how she’s grinning that she’s bought the story and thinks that Mya and I have been canoodling at the office this whole time.

  Good. That works in my favor.

  “Perhaps.”

  “Well, I won’t stop you. Someone needs to have fun around this place.” She wiggles her fingers over her shoulder as she walks away.

  I leave the door to my office open so I can watch the hallway which is the only reason I notice when Mya comes in. She marches down the hall with her head held high, without a spare glance toward my open office door.

  So it’s like that?

  I decide to give it another hour, just to be fair. Maybe she has a ton of stuff going on that requires her attention this morning. Never let it be said that I’m not a patient man. When another hour passes and Mya doesn’t call, text, email or drop by, I realize that she’s definitely violating rule one. We talked everyday even when we were pretending to hate each other. But now she can’t even acknowledge that my office door exists?

  It stings a little, being ignored, even if I know why she’s doing it. But if she thinks pretending I’m not here is going to fix this, then she needs to think again. I wait until I see her walk down the hall, coffee cup in hand, before I make my move.

  The hall is empty so no one sees me slip into Mya’s office. I sit in her chair and turn it so it’s facing away from the door. It has such a high back that no one will know I’m here unless I turn around.

  About ten minutes later I hear the door close, so I turn around in the chair slowly.

  Mya squeals. “Milo? What the hell? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “Now you can see me? Oh that’s good. I figured I must be invisible considering that you rushed right past my open door and couldn’t see it.”

  “I was in a hurry,” she protests.

  “You were being weird. Which we agreed not to do.”

  Her face falls. “You’re right. That was weird and rude. I guess I just don’t have a lot of experience with this kind of thing.”

  “Believe it or not, neither do I. Things are awkward, I get it but our plan will work if we both commit to it. If we work together, I know we can come up with some kick ass campaigns that are sure to wow the Lavin team.”

  “Sounds good to me.” She sets her coffee on the edge of the table just as Anya walks in carrying another vase of flowers.

  The sight of that o
bnoxious bouquet causes an unexpected pang in the center of my chest. Before Mya can move, I jump up and take the flowers from Anya, putting them on the worktable in the corner.

  “Meet me at my place after work. I’ll text you the address,” I whisper so Anya doesn’t overhear. “We can work on our campaigns.” My eyes go to the flowers in the corner again. “And have a bonfire.”

  Then before she can overthink it, I lift her chin and plant a soft kiss on her lips. Anya gives me a thumbs up before she backs out of the room.

  “You shouldn’t have done that. Anya is the biggest gossip in the office. They’ll all be talking about us before lunch.”

  She says it as if that should frighten me but truthfully I don’t care if the whole office is gossiping about us. Whatever they’re saying isn’t going to come anywhere near the actual truth.

  “Let them talk.”

  14

  By the time the end of the day rolls around, my eyes are burning from staring at my computer screen. I’ve been working on my design ideas for the Lavin campaign all day but so far nothing I’ve come up with is good enough.

  My eyes stray to the clock in the upper right corner of my monitor. Milo is expecting me to come over tonight to work on our campaigns together. In theory that sounds like a good idea but then when you break it down, I have to remember that he is still my competition. Our ideas are going to go head-to-head and Mr. Lavin can only pick one of them. So why should I give up my ideas to him ahead of time? We’ve built a temporary trust between us but I’m still not ready to put all my eggs in that basket. It’s better if I develop my ideas independently so there can be no misunderstandings later.

  Mr. Lavin is going to love what I come up with. And I don’t want anyone else trying to take credit for my ideas.

  James pokes his head in from the hall. “How are things going?”

  “Great. The research we did before the meeting has been useful. I’ve come up with several possible directions we could take for a bridal campaign.”

  “Fantastic. I haven’t heard anything else yet but once Mr. Lavin is ready to move on this, I’d like to be able to accommodate his schedule.”

  Which is a subtle warning to get it together in case the client asks for a meeting out of the blue. No pressure or anything.

  My phone blares the raunchy lyrics to Big Sean’s I Don’t Give a Fuck About You and we both pause in shock. I grab my bag and stick my hand inside hoping and praying that for once I’ll find my phone quickly amidst all the junk in there.

  I Don’t Give a Fuck About YOU. The volume is even louder now that I’m holding my bag open.

  James coughs slightly. “Right, I’ll check back in with you later. I have a meeting.” He’s trying to talk over the sound of the music but it’s nearly impossible.

  “No problem, boss. I’ll put together a draft campaign for you to review by the end of the week.”

  I Don’t Give a Fuck… my face flames as I continue to rummage through my bag… About YOU.

  James is still smiling when he walks away.

  My office door is wide open and one of the interns from Kevin’s department scampers away when I look up. Damn Ariana and her crazy ringtones. Every time I leave my phone around her, she programs in whatever song captures her current feelings. I guess she was feeling nihilistic last time. By the time I find my phone the ringtone has finally stopped.

  Ari: Drop whatever you’re doing. I’m off work early and in the mood for margaritas.

  It’s not like Ariana to get off work early or to text me about it. Which means that she had a really shitty day. She’s a pediatric nurse so her bad days are really bad. If she lost a patient then I definitely don’t want her to be alone. The thing about Ari is that she’ll never admit when she needs someone.

  Mya: K, on my way. I’ll take the metro and come to you.

  I turn off my computer and grab my bag and coat. It’s not like I was getting anything done anyway. Maybe a margarita is exactly what I need to cut loose.

  Twenty minutes later I’m getting off the metro at the Foggy Bottom station. As soon as I come up the escalator I see Ariana waiting. Her face looks pinched and tired and she hasn’t changed out of her scrubs yet. Things are definitely bad if she wants to go out for drinks without changing first.

  As I approach I hold out my arms and she accepts the hug.

  “Hey girl. Thanks for coming. I should have known you could decode my bat signal.” She hooks her arm through mine and leads me through the throngs of people clustered around the escalators leading to the metro below ground. I follow her lead, assuming she knows where she’s going. This is her turf not mine. Mirage’s offices are in Georgetown.

  “It was the getting off work early part that gave you away. Your boss never lets you off early.”

  “Technically she didn’t let me off early this time either. It was the attending physician who told me to take off.” She pulls me through a doorway and I look around the dark interior of the restaurant.

  Ari takes a seat at the bar. “I’ve heard this place has the best tapas in the city and their margaritas are so strong that just one will have you spilling your secrets.” She points to the menu on the bar and orders two strawberry margaritas. Soon, we’re both sucking down the sweet liquid and it feels like all my stress is just melting away.

  Ariana sighs. “Today was a rough one. I’m not sure if this is the right fit for me. It takes a really thick skin to see all this suffering and not be affected by it.”

  “You’re a great nurse, Ari. As crazy as you are, you have the biggest, squishiest heart. Those babies are lucky to have someone like you to take care of them. Especially the ones whose parents can’t be there.”

  Ari volunteers her time in the neonatal unit when she’s off shift to hold and snuggle the babies whose parents can’t visit as often. Some of them live too far to get to the NICU often and others have to work so hard just to afford the medical bills. So Ariana comes in and fills the gap, so those babies have someone there for them.

  “Enough about me and my bad day. I want to hear all about you and Happy Hour Hottie. You’ve been so quiet all weekend. You never even told me how the trip went.”

  “The trip was great.” I smile brightly but I should have known that wouldn’t fool her. Ariana can smell drama from a mile away.

  She gasps. “Did you actually take my advice and have a little fun?”

  It’s weird to talk about this because I don’t even know what Milo and I are doing. We’re fake engaged at work but we’re also supposed to be keeping things professional. This mental yo-yo is taking a toll and we’ve only been back at work for one day.

  “The meeting with the client was a disaster.”

  Ari sucks down the last of her margarita as I recount the whole tale. By the time I reach the end, she waves her hand at me to continue.

  “That’s it. We lied, and now the entire office is gossiping about us.” I decided to leave out the part about Milo pledging to show me what good sex is supposed to be like.

  “Girl, some shit going down with your job is NOT why you’ve been whistling a happy tune since you came back. Either you found your own Magic Mike while you were down there or you did the nasty with Happy Hour Hottie. So which is it?”

  I lose my grip on my margarita glass and almost spill what’s left. “Damn! Is it that obvious?”

  “Um, do you really want me to answer that?”

  Glumly, I stare into the remains of my drink. “How did this whole thing get so complicated? Everything was going wrong and then I ended up in his hotel room. And then everything was going right. Now I’m not sure what’s up with us. It was so awkward seeing him today.”

  “Look, I know you won’t listen to my advice but there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun with your sexy co-worker. You’re both adults and no one is getting hurt. It sounds like you’ve both been honest about what you want from this. You got your heart broken and now you’re just having a little fun. Hot, sweaty sex is the cu
re for heartbreak.”

  The bartender chooses that exact moment to come back and check on us. He grins at Ariana’s words. She points at him with one red lacquered nail. “Don’t you agree that hot sex is the best cure when you get your heart broken?”

  He takes one look at her almost-empty margarita glass and immediately starts making her another one. “I think that would cure just about anything, sweetheart.”

  Ari looks at me with an I told you so face. “See? Big, muscly bartender man agrees with me.”

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Because of course taking sex advice from a random guy in a bar sounds like a good idea. “But this is not me. I don’t do stuff like this.”

  “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  I can feel my cheeks heating. “Definitely. That man is a beast in bed.”

  Ari holds her margarita aloft like a trophy. “Yes! I knew it. My girl finally got it right.”

  Her words settle over me and I roll them around my brain. Did I get it right? Ari is always saying I need to stop overthinking everything and just have some fun. That’s never been easy for me. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always liked to have things planned out and organized. A list of goals for every area of my life. But I had a checklist that included finding the perfect guy and getting married and look how that turned out.

  According to all my lists and rules, Milo is the last person that I should spend time with. He’s impulsive and reckless. Allergic to commitment and just out for a good time. But you know what? I never had as much fun with “perfect” William as I did with Milo. Not just the great sex but everything. Even just talking to him was more fun than I’ve had in a long time.

  Which scares the hell out of me.

  “You know what? You’re absolutely right,” I announce, pushing my now empty margarita glass down the bar.

  Ariana pauses with her straw halfway to her mouth. “I am?”

  “Yes. I do need to get out there and have some fun. I definitely need to stop worrying about what the men in my life want and start thinking about what I want.”