“Yeah.” I tried not to flinch. “The uh, one about Emory Enterprises and the internship opening.”
“They pick you?” His nostrils flared.
“Depends.” I gulped. “Did they pick you?”
“I’ve applied three times.”
“Same.”
“I report in a few days.”
“Damn.” I kept a straight face. “Good for you.”
“Olivia…” He lowered his voice and looked ready to pounce. “Did you get in?”
“Maybe.” I started trying to find my clothes by way of telepathy. Shoes, shoes, where are youuuuuuuuu? “I should get going.”
“Let me see your phone.” He lunged.
I panicked and jerked back and then sprinted into the living room, hearing his footsteps pounding behind me.
And then I was suddenly on my stomach against the floor while he pinned me there with nothing on but black boxer briefs that looked sexier than sin slung low on his hips.
“Give it!” he yelled.
“Never!” I bucked backward.
And then he was hard all over again.
And I was naked.
And he felt so good.
And I was so angry.
Possibly confused.
And the next thing I knew, he was lifting me up with his hands and pressing his tip into my entrance while I squirmed in an effort to get him to thrust harder.
When he was finally all the way in…
We both stilled.
And then, like a man possessed, he fucked me.
Hard.
Against his carpet.
With my phone in one hand.
And holding myself up with the other while he grabbed my neck, leaning down and pressing open-mouthed kisses to my skin, one hand pinching a nipple, the other keeping me pinned where he wanted me.
It was the most insane thing I’d ever done.
He was the devil.
And damn, did I want to sin.
Heaven was overrated, right?
Just let me fall in with my enemy for one damning minute.
“Mark!” I screamed. “I’m so clo—”
“Had to.” He interrupted. “Needed you.”
“Yes.” I agreed. “Yes!”
“Enemies after this,” he grunted.
“Always,” I said as he pulled out and then flipped me onto my back only to surge back in, his eyes wild.
He was angelic beauty mixed with the devil.
And I was okay with it as he thrust painfully hard as if to punish both of us for feeling this attraction—for acting on it when we knew we’d go back to our corners afterward.
It was just a bit of crazed fun.
Right?
We were enemies.
Always.
But I’d earned this, right? This pleasure. As my eyes rolled into the back of my head, his mouth lowered, and then his tongue was tangling with mine, and I tasted him everywhere.
“Fuck.” His hips swiveled, and then he plunged so deep I felt him in every part of my body. As I pulsed around him like my body was trying to hold him captive, he said, “Olivia, I need to tell you—”
“No.” I cupped a hand over his mouth. “The line goes back.” I arched. “After this…it has to.”
His eyes shuttered, and then I was screaming his name as he slipped his hand between our bodies as if to finish off what he regretted starting.
I fell back against the floor panting.
Looking up at the devil or maybe a fallen angel—who knew at this point?
And then he said the damning words that I should have expected but didn’t have time to protect myself from.
“You should go,” he whispered, still inside me.
“Yeah,” I said stunned, pulling away. “Guess I should.”
I shakily grabbed the clothes strewn around the room. He watched me as I stepped into lacy panties and struggled to get my dress zipped, and smoothed as much as possible. I pulled on my cardigan without zipping the dress so I wouldn’t have to muscle into my Spanx—the last thing I needed was to put on a show as sweat ran down my back while trying to roll on the damn things. Once I was safely covered, I located my shoes and put them on. I walked to the door and left without so much as a goodbye.
Hating him more than I had ever thought possible.
For being the man I’d always compare every other man to.
For being cruel when I needed him to be the bigger person.
And for agreeing to draw that line back in the sand when all I wanted was for him to say no, and keep me in his arms just a bit longer.
I didn’t realize I had tears until they dripped from my chin. Until I was doing the walk of shame down the sidewalk and attempting to grab an Uber to my car.
The only thing I had to look forward to was the fact that I was an intern now for Max Emory.
Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be worse than the walk of shame from your enemy’s apartment after sober sex, not drunk, but sober sex!
Nothing.
I had no clue that a month later, I would do anything to return to this embarrassing moment.
After all, Max Emory… isn’t normal.
Had I known that I probably never would have said yes.
And neither would Mark.
Chapter Five
Mark
“Welcome to intern initiation!” Max Emory, CEO, spread his arms wide as he smiled at the group of twelve interns, of which I was one. He was wearing a three-piece black and white striped suit. The man had friggin’ spectacles attached to his suit that he randomly held up to his face looking like he belonged in the cast of A Christmas Carol. Did he even need them, or was it to throw us off his scent?
After my one-night stand with Olivia—I’d done an embarrassingly long internet search on Max and found out that he had actually been a contestant on Love Island. Think The Bachelor, but with more crazy women than any sane man would be able to handle.
Then again, Max Emory was known for being…eccentric, so maybe he’d been into it.
Some articles said that’s what had sent him over the edge. Then again, he was still happily married and a freaking billionaire, so whatever; his life wasn’t that rough, you know?
Other articles said he was eccentric, both in his personal life and in work, which as he spoke, I realized was scary accurate. He was almost too confident and too happy to be torturing all of us interns.
I drummed my fingers against my thigh, waiting for the announcement, but the guy kept pausing for three seconds in between taking giant gulps of water. The hell was wrong with him?
The hell was wrong with me?
I was so nervous I wanted to puke.
I needed this internship more than I needed another night with Olivia, and that was up there with needing air.
Fuck, she tasted good.
Max droned on, and every few minutes he spread his hands wide like he was the host of some game show when there were only twelve people in the room and one camera guy documenting, according to Max, his epic speech.
Weird.
And even weirder, or should I say harder?
Olivia was here.
Two seats down.
Wearing black jeans and a gray T-shirt, looking sexy as ever.
Did she regret it?
Did she think about me the way I thought about her?
Did she even care that she made me feel cheap, so I made her angry? I mean, I was inside her when she wanted to draw the fucking line between us again as if her job was more important than whatever connection we’d had that night.