29
Trevor notices some office tension.
The tension is in my pants, by the way.
And, when the following week arrives, it only intensifies.
With each passing workday, whether I’m at the intern table or among the office computers, Ben makes it a point to stroll by, looking so damned proud of himself and greeting everyone by name. “Isaac. Caleb. Trevor.” His eyes linger on mine a bit too long, giving me the chance to catch that all-familiar glint of humor in them as he disappears into his office.
He’s clearly taken what I said to heart.
“Can you get me an intern to look over these numbers?” asks Ben one afternoon to Rebekah, loudly enough for me to hear. “I prefer someone with a good eye. Someone sharp. Someone who’s not let me down yet.” Then he casually looks my way and gives a nod. “Trevor, perhaps.”
“Yes, sir,” says Rebekah at once, and then I get a new task.
And when I turn in the corrected numbers to him, Ben gives me a twinkly-eyed nod and a curt, “Thank you,” before hopping back into his office like a proud puppy who’s found a bone.
Each day that passes, I catch myself having to stifle my laugh in the presence of my peers for fear of giving away any secret thing going on between Mr. Gage and I—especially when he peers at me from across the office, thinks no one’s looking, then gives me some totally out-of-character, attitude-filled chin-lift, or one of his superior, cocky smirks, or decides to pose suggestively against whatever desk he’s near, deliberately poking out his butt in my direction.
This third week as an intern at Gage Communications, I learn a very important lesson: Benjamin Gage is a super skilled cock tease.
I seriously underestimated him. When I’m seated at one of the computers, innocently doing my work, he comes to check on one of his employees seated at the computer right next to mine, and when he does so, he leans into their computer with obscene demonstrativeness, putting his tight ass right at eyelevel with me while I’m trying to work. He has no shame about it either; the total dick that is Benjamin shifts his weight from one leg to the other as he innocuously inspects the employee’s work, and I have to fight to keep all my attention on my computer screen and not take a big bite out of that sexy butt hovering in my peripheral. Ben gets so daring that he leans his ass close enough to my face that I could literally lean on it like a second head cushion to my office chair. I have no doubt it’ll be twenty times more comfortable.
I guess this kind of childishness is what I signed up for when I decided to screw around with the boss.
The week flies by fast, and the following weekend, even faster. Elijah occupies me for every minute of it, despite my wanting to make plans with Ben. It’s bothersome, but Benjamin and I both knew we’d have to let things cool down for a bit until we have more allowance to sneak around our respective obstacles.
My main obstacle: my roommate Elijah, who totally promised me not to mess with Ashlee if I don’t mess with whoever it is I did the dingy-dingy with in the bathroom.
My roommate, who I am terribly, horribly, utterly lying to.
Is it a good or bad thing that my devotion—if that isn’t too creepy and dramatic a word to use—to Benjamin is so strong, I’d deceive my best friend, hop around behind his back, and have little to no reservations about it?
I mean, really. The guilt is almost nonexistent lately. Maybe that’s because, ever since that one crazy Wednesday night where I jumped on a jet in the middle of dinner, Ben and I haven’t spent any time together.
That needs to change, I think to myself Sunday evening as I’m gripping my phone tightly awaiting yet another flirty text from Ben while watching my roommate kick some poor guy’s ass online on his Xbox.
The flirty text comes just as certainly as the last fifty did.
I’m unstoppable, I’m shameless, and I have no regrets.
No regrets at all, even when Monday rolls around and Ben innocently slips into the copy room to check on one of the fax machines for no reason at all. Well, for one reason: me.
“Excuse me,” he grunts under his breath as he reaches across me—obviously just to torment me with his mere proximity—to check a cable that runs along the copier table. “Totally don’t mean to invade your space,” he assures me casually as he gets on his hands and knees and follows the cable under the table.
Which brings his face right around my crotch.
I bite my lip and pretend to ignore him.
He pops up at my other side, still following the cord. “Thanks for your patience,” he mutters into my ear as he leaves.
“No problem, boss,” I toss over my shoulder, catching him just before he vanishes. Was it as good for you as it wasn’t for me? I think to myself with mounting sexual frustration.
He’s making me so infuriatingly hot and bothered at work.
I can’t go much longer without having another night at Ben’s house. I’m going to have to think of something—and soon.
Y’know, before my nuts swell so big that they collapse into a black hole and swallow Earth intact.
It’s Wednesday morning when half the interns are busy at the computers googling clients. Two have been sent on an errand in the city, last I heard. And remaining at the intern table, Elijah and Ashlee work with me on sorting articles by date.
Did I mention I’m right between them in a very leave-room-for-Jesus sort of way?
When Ben enters the office, I’m the first to notice. At least, that’s what I tell myself every day as I lift my eyes from the table and watch him strut by in his fitted blazer, black dress shirt, and hot pink tie. His cocky smirk is so up-to-no-good that he’s popping a dimple, and as he passes by, his scorching eyes flick over to our table and meet mine powerfully and knowingly.
Then in a voice as smooth as silk, and without interrupting his sexy strut, he greets us: “Elijah. Trevor. Ashlee.”
“Sir,” mutters Elijah, wide-eyed.
“Morning, Mr. Gage,” returns Ashlee brightly.
Our eyes never unlock from one another as he passes. I give him just a curt nod. “Boss,” I mutter for a greeting.
Ben’s fierce eyes twinkle with amusement as he continues on, making his way farther into the office. Rebekah and two other supers find him, and then he’s followed by a cloud of questions and reports as he circles around the cubicles, patiently addressing each of them as he goes.
Yes, I watch him long after our eye contact is broken.
“He remembered my name,” whispers Ashlee at me excitedly.
“Mine too,” boasts Elijah, having overheard the whisper, “but I wouldn’t expect anything less. Boss man knows what’s up in his house,” he adds with a sassy accent. “He knows who the cool cats are.”
Ashlee snorts at him. “Is that so, Elijah? Is that why you haven’t been called to participate in one of his meetings yet?”
I chuckle and put out a hand for a low-five, which Ashlee is all too quick to give, smiling cheekily and letting out a tiny bark of victorious laughter.
Elijah smirks sourly at both of us. “Yeah, yeah, you two can laugh all you want. He’s just saving the best for last.” He puffs up his chest as he shoves an article into the June folder.
Ashlee leans into me and pokes a thumb toward him. “Watch out for this one. Mini Brady-in-training over here.”
“Do not compare me to that cherry Pop-Tart,” Elijah sneers.
My pocket vibrates—a text message from my phone. Since I’m sandwiched between these two (and am fairly certain who the sender of the text is), I can’t safely look at it. Even though I just abbreviate him with a “B” in my phone, my fellow coworkers can still read its contents and might be able to deduce a few things. Just that slight, terrifying possibility makes my butthole pucker.
Even though Brandon also begins with a “B”. And Brady.
And Ben.
While Elijah and Ashlee continue to tease each other, I feel the buzz from Ben once again. I know it’s a total figment of my imagination, but the vibration from each text he sends seems to get more urgent. By the time he shoots me a third text, I shut my eyes, feeling like he’s causing my pocket to vibrate on purpose.
And my pocket is awfully close to my cock.
Which is already starting to stiffen. Thanks, Ben.
Just when I’m about to pull away with a “that morning coffee I totally don’t drink went through my system faster than I thought” trip to the bathroom to check these texts, the door to Ben’s office swings open.
“Who’s responsible for this report?” he asks snippily.
Rebekah is at his side in an instant—his right hand and eager assistant at all times—and her features harden when she eyes the report up-close. She lifts her face, her tight bun flipping up with her head as she splutters several words I can’t make out.
Ben slaps the report against his palm, huffs once, then shoots a terse word to Rebekah before slipping right back into his office. Rebekah, after a moment of steeling herself and smoothing out her skirt, makes her way down the aisle of cubicles.
And she comes to a stop right at the intern table. “Trevor,” she states, her voice low as a reproachful mother’s.
I swallow. “Yes?”
“Mr. Gage,” she explains collectedly, “wishes to see you in his office regarding a report you turned in yesterday before you left.”
I frown, knowing precisely the report she’s indicating. It was perfect. I even remember looking over it twice. “Was something wrong with it?” I ask.
“Please see Mr. Gage in his office. That’s all.” With that, she spins on her heel and disappears to the computers.
Despite all the attention I’ve suddenly earned, I feel a heck of a lot more indignance than I do embarrassment or fear. I run a hand down my tie, take a breath, then dismiss myself from the table, ignoring Elijah and Ashlee’s glassy, worried stares.
A lot of eyes follow me as I cut across the room toward Ben’s office. I feel them on me like stale air.
His door is halfway open when I reach it at last. Benjamin is leaning against the front of his desk, his arms folded powerfully, and his glare is menacing.
Or sexy, depending on who you are. Good thing I’m me. “You called for me … sir?”
The blinds to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the rest of the office are open. Everyone is watching.
“Close the door, Trevor.”
I lift my eyebrows questioningly for three solid seconds. Then, setting my jaw, I turn and close the office door behind me.
Ben, smooth as the silky hot pink tie he wears, reaches an arm around the back of his desk and hits a switch. The blinds slowly rotate, closing themselves and shutting off all vision of the office to us.
Suddenly, we’re completely alone. I tilt my head, my role of intern traded away at once for the braver me. “What the hell?” I ask quietly. “Is this your idea of how to keep things discreet?”
His eyes are dark and greedy as he stares me down. “You are in deep, deep trouble, intern.”