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“You looked so cute and vulnerable last night, I just couldn’t do it,” I tell him. Truth of the matter is, I crawled into bed next to him, pulled the covers over both of us, and watched him sleep. If he knew I had done that, I’m sure he would have labeled me a psycho, so I keep that knowledge to myself.
“Vulnerable?” Matt growls in my ear as he pushes his fingers into me extra deep. “Never call me that again. I’m the great and powerful Connover. Vulnerable has no business being anywhere in the vicinity of me. ”
Giggling, I reach my hand behind me and grab ahold of what has become my most prized possession.
Yes… mine!
I stroke him in time with the beat of his fingers, and we lay silently with nothing but moans and grunts echoing through my bedroom. After only a few minutes, Matt’s voice is raspy and harsh when he says, “Playtime’s over. ”
He pushes me onto my stomach, rolling over on top of me. Supporting his weight on his hands, he manages to kick my legs apart. I can feel him make a quick dip with his hips, and he’s at my entrance. He’s not seeking permission to come in either. He takes it upon himself with a few rough pushes and then he’s all the way in, and God… it feels so f**king good.
Feels better and better every time.
To give himself better leverage, Matt grabs my h*ps and raises them off the bed, pulling out and slamming back into me. I let out a very unladylike ooph into the pillow, and then I just hang on for the ride.
And it’s Matt-Fucking-Connover tunneling deep into me, so it’s the ride of a lifetime. He alternates fast, then slow, hard, and then tender, hands gripping my h*ps or sneaking around to my front to rub me just right.
Long before he reaches the pinnacle, I’m already shaking, shuddering, and crying out words of praise for his performance. He soon follows me, again whispering my name in reverence as he comes.
Once we get our sea legs under us, we venture into the shower… where Round Two of the Mac and Matt Show takes place. We’re not as graceful, and Matt even slips on the soapy tile once as he tries to pin me to the shower wall. He throws a hand out to make a grab at something—anything—to stop us falling and manages to grab onto my shampoo rack hanging around the showerhead. It slips off the metal pipe, catching the showerhead with such force that it rips away. It falls and hits Matt on the shoulder, for which he drops seven “F” bombs, and water starts pouring out of the bare pipe at an alarming rate.
Pride doesn’t even do it justice when I think that Matt never even misses a beat. His feet gain purchase and he balances out, never missing a stroke inside of me. He pounds me into the tile wall until both of us are groaning in orgasm.
And being a true gentleman, he fixes my showerhead after we dry off.
Now I’m feeding him pancakes and sipping at my coffee, completely content with my morning sex-a-thon, the fact that Matt is sitting in my kitchen, and that we’re talking about normal things. Oh, nothing too personal, but we’re not talking about business. We found we have a mutual love affair for Criminal Minds and Family Guy, and that we are not in alignment on reality TV. I adore Big Brother and Survivor—he thinks those shows suck brain cells out of your head. I then point out that he’s not getting any smarter by watching Family Guy.
Our banter is light and easy, and it’s hard to remember that he’s my boss and I’m his subordinate. It’s even harder for me to remember that this is just sex, and our conversation is probably nothing more than the passing of time so that he can eat his breakfast.
When he finishes, he helps me with the dishes, bumping his shoulder companionably against mine. But then he says he needs to get home and take care of some things.
I wait for him to say he wants to see me tonight, but he busies himself with putting his jacket on and grabbing his briefcase. When he walks to my front door, I finally blurt, “So… what are you doing this weekend?”
God… did that sound pathetically hopeful?
Hopefully not.
He turns to look at me with a tight look on his face. “I have plans all weekend, so I’ll see you in the office on Monday. ”
His words have a finality to them. He’s not going to share what those plans are and, clearly, I’m not included. A deep pang of hurt hits me in the center of my chest, but I don’t let him see it. I keep my smile bright when I tell him, “Cool. Have a great weekend, and I’ll see you Monday. ”
Kissing me on the cheek, Matt says goodbye and leaves without a backward glance. He doesn’t hold me in his arms and tell me he’ll miss me.
He’s already dismissed me from his mind.
My plans may not be with Matt this weekend—again, still smarting about that—but I do have plans.
I’m in the law library at Columbia doing a huge research project on how to pierce the corporate veil for Lorraine that’s due on Monday. Yes, I almost fell asleep just thinking those words.
Boring!
I could easily do the research at the office. Matt and Bill spared no expense on the online legal research software for Connover and Crown, but I love the law library at my alma mater. There’s something about the dark cubbies and green banker’s lamps on each table, emitting their soft glow, that makes me feel smarter. Like I can absorb the yawn-inducing material better. I’m always in my research zone here.
I’ve been at it for two hours, and I think I have most of my research collected. Now I settle in to read it in detail. I make frequent trips back and forth to the copier, and let my yellow highlighter mark the passages that apply to our case, or could poke a hole in our case.
That takes another three hours, and then I’m ready to begin typing a Memorandum that will summarize all of this work into an easy, twenty-minute read for Lorraine.
Yup… pisses me off that I’ll have probably seven hours of work into a Memorandum that Lorraine will be able to read in twenty minutes and be well versed in the law. Such is the life of a lowly associate attorney fresh out of law school.
Once my Memorandum is finished, and I’ve proofed it three times—because if Lorraine catches a comma out of place, I’ll get an ass-chewing—I print it and head to the copier for one last round of copies. One for Lorraine, one for me, and one for Matt, just because I know it will piss Lorraine off that I think I need to copy Matt on this.
As the papers are shooting out from the copier into the collection bin, my mind wanders. Of course, I think of Matt. I wonder what he has planned this weekend, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was obsessing on the possible fact that he could be hooking up with someone else. Although we’ve been very clear and honest about giving into our attraction to each other, we never talked about us being monogamous. Matt has no need for loyalty to me because I’ve not asked for it, and my stomach churns over the fact that he might be screwing someone else tonight.
Someone prettier than me. Smarter than me. Sexier than me.
Sighing in longing and frustration, I don’t notice the man standing next to the copier.
“Legal research gives me the same feeling,” he says, assuming my sighs have more to do with the law than love.
Looking up, I see a very handsome man. He stands about six foot with dark blond hair and warm brown eyes. Dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt, he leans one arm on the copier and pulls my copies out. Scanning it briefly, he says, “Piercing the corporate veil, huh? Dry stuff. ”
Nodding, I give him a smile in agreement. “Yup. Just spent a lovely seven hours on this puppy. I’m not entirely sure I’m not in a coma right now. Am I talking okay?”
Laughing, he hands me the copies and says, “You’re talking just fine. I’m Cal Carson, by the way. ”
He sticks his hand out to me, and I give it a shake. “McKayla Dawson, first-year associate and relegated to the law library on weekends. ”
I take the copies from him and slip them in my briefcase. Standing up, I look back at Cal. “So, what type of law do you do?”
“Corp
orate and insurance defense,” he says, with about as much enthusiasm as a man getting ready to have his teeth drilled. “But I’m thinking of a career change. You?”
“Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Whatever my boss tells me to do, actually. ”
“Been there, done that,” he commiserates. “It will get better over time. ”
We both start walking out of the library together. “Didn’t you have copies to make? I just assumed you were waiting for me to get done. ”
“Nah… I just saw you standing there and thought I’d introduce myself. Say… if you want me to read your memo, I’d be glad to. I just gave a symposium on this very subject. ”
“Really?” I ask, grateful to have another opinion. If I’m wrong about something, I can get it corrected and save myself from a Lorraine Special Tongue Lashing. “I don’t want to bother you or anything. ”
“It’s not a bother and certainly no hardship to help out a beautiful woman,” he says, his eyes showing a tad bit warmer than they were before. I blush prettily because his words are nice, and I’m in a Matt funk.
“Okay… how about I buy you a cup of coffee across the street, and you can take a gander at it?”
Cal takes my elbow as we exit the law library. “I’ll agree only if I buy the coffee. ”
“But that doesn’t seem fair. ” I laugh. “You have to do work and pay for coffee. ”
“Trust me,” Cal says. “Being able to spend half an hour in your presence is payment enough. ”
I look at Cal in a different light right now. He’s clearly flirting with me, and I like it. It’s been so very long since someone has done that. Not even Matt has taken the time, because he knows I’m a sure thing. He knows without a doubt that I’ll drop trou when he crooks his finger at me.
But this is different. Since Pete, no one of the male persuasion has caused me to blush or made butterflies dance in my stomach.
Giving him a blinding smile, I say, “Okay… I accept your offer of coffee. Lead the way. ”
This day couldn’t get any worse. It was a Monday after all, and it came on the heels of a craptastic weekend. I spent all weekend vacillating between working my ass off and moping over Matt.
I try to mentally kick my ass over and over again for getting feelings caught up in this strange ‘thing’ I have going on with Matt. It’s a ‘thing’ because it’s not a relationship. We don’t really talk unless it’s to murmur dirty words to each other. I mean, it’s not like we’re sharing our hopes and dreams with one another. In essence, other than giving me bone-melting orgasms, he doesn’t really care for me.
Why is he plaguing my thoughts so much?
I figured coming into work might help me take my mind off things. I mean, I was met at my office door by Lorraine, who berated me for being five-minutes late, and for a solid thirty seconds… I didn’t think of Matt.
No, I thought of putting my hands around Lorraine’s scrawny neck and wringing the ever-fucking life out of her. But then she simmered down and asked to see the Memorandum I had drafted for her this weekend. She sat in her office, all prim and proper, and silently read my work.
The best possible scenario occurred, and she looked up at me with lips thinned flat and said, “I can use this. It’s passable. ”
The vision of my fingers squeezing her throat pushed its way back in my mind, and I let myself succumb to the few seconds of bliss that it afforded me.
After Lorraine trounced out of my office, I spent my time reading the articles on biomechanical engineering that Matt had sent me. By the third one, I was starting to understand it a bit more and wasn’t feeling nearly as stupid.
I took a quick lunch break and ran down the block to get a sub, eating it as I walked back to the office. I then immersed myself so deeply back into the world of biomechanics that I was surprised when I glanced at the clock to see that it was almost six PM.