Page 11 of Devil In A Suit, Vol. 2

Chapter 5

Later that nightI’m in bed, once again trying to fall asleep while pouring over dirty images of my time with Jared, when my phone buzzes. I pull it out from beneath my pillow, where it hangs out while I sleep, and see a text.

From Jared.

I can’t stop thinking about you bent over my desk.

I gulp, the memory indelible in my brain as well. I stare at my phone, trying in vain to come up with something to say back. Something confident and sexy that isn’t OHMYGODYES ME TOO MORE PLEASE.

The little flashing dots appear indicating that he’s typing. My breath catches in my throat as I wait for what he’s going to say next.

I don’t know how I’m going to concentrate on contracts tomorrow with that image in my head.

The thoughtof me distracting him while he’s alone in that office, the memory of my palms on the glass top of his desk, makes me shiver. I love having this effect on him. I stare at the screen waiting to see if he’s going to say more, when I realize that he’s probably waiting for me. So I quickly tap out a text in return.

Tomorrow? I’m having trouble sleeping TONIGHT.

I hold my breath. I’m nervous about scaring him off, since he seems so concerned with boundaries, but I also want him to know that I’m into this, too. And that I want more.

Ah, so you’re up.

I grin and type a response.

Possibly all night

His response is almost instantaneous.

I want to hear your voice

My breath catchesin my throat. My voice? He wants to talk on the phone? I can’t remember the last time I talked to a guy on the phone. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I texted a guy. Probably that Tinder date I went on back before I graduated, when I met the guy at the cheapest pizza place on the planet and he still “forgot his wallet.”

I cradle my phone in my hands, trying to come up with a response, but he’s impatient, because my phone rings in my hands with an incoming call. My hands are shaking, but I swipe my finger across the screen to answer it.

“Hello?” I say, already feeling the butterflies he gives me every time we interact for even one second.

“I’ve always thought it was strange that people answer cell phones like that,” he says. His voice comes through the line deep and clear, and it sends a rumble of want through me.

“Like what?”

“‘Like they don’t know who might be on the other end of the phone.”

I search his voice for cruelty, but there’s none. He’s teasing me a little, but angry Jared is nowhere to be found. “So how should I answer the phone?” I ask.

“How about ‘This is Quinn Carson, Queen of Sex’?”

I smile, glad he can’t see how badly I’m blushing through the phone. “But you called me. You know this is Quinn Carson, Queen of Sex.”

His laughter bursting through the phone is almost better than the idea of seeing him naked. It’s warm and familiar, and it makes me feel safe. It feels like a victory, like something hard-earned that only I know the secret to find, and I know in that moment that I want to hear it again and again and again.

I take the moment of his laughter to collect myself, because while he may think I’m the Queen of Sex, I know I’m anything but. Everything we’ve done so far has been new territory for me, and there’s only further to explore. I can’t wait to go there together. And I want to tell him, but I’m also afraid that it will mean something it shouldn’t. I don’t want to scare him away, especially not now that I’ve made him laugh.

“I meant it, you know,” his voice getting low and smooth as melted chocolate.

My insides liquefy as I start to imagine the roads down which this conversation could go, and I’m thrilled by the notion of what we could be doing. I want to encourage it. I want him to go there. So I ask, “meant what?”

“That I want to finish what we started,” he replies. There’s passion in his voice, but also something else. It almost sounds like beneath the gravel and the demanding tone, that he’s hopeful.

“You mean what we started that first night, when you promised to take me home and then sent me away with no explanation?” I challenge him.