Page 136 of Give In

My eyes took in the rear view of him as he walked from the room. His muscled back led down to where his track pants hung low on his hips. I knew I’d get an even better view when he returned since his shirtless torso was a sculpted-from-marble thing of beauty, and the deep vee muscles at his pelvis were practically a neon sign pointing down to his impressive dick print in the well-worn pants.

Tucking my knee under my chin, I used my other foot to spin the chair in half circles, my mind on everything and nothing.

There was a lot I needed to talk to Damien about. My family. His family, probably. Hell, we hadn’t even talked about what’d happened under his desk. By the time he’d gotten home that night, my anger had waned, guilt taking its place. I hadn’t even wanted to think about what I’d done.

We needed to set parameters. Guidelines and limits.

I knew it, and yet, I thought the same thing as every other time the opportunity had presented itself.

We’ll talk later.

It can wait.

Shaking off my melancholy, I was about to spin around to watch my show when Damien’s open laptop caught my eye.

I’d like to think that I was a good person. That my past, filled with a lack of privacy and untrustworthy people, put me in a unique place to fully appreciate the trust that Damien was giving me. He’d never tried to hide his phone passcode or angle his screens away from me so I couldn’t see what he was doing. He’d always been open with me, and I’d like to think that I’d earned that trust and would continue to nurture it.

I’d like to think all that…

But nope. My curiosity and nosiness took control, and I peeked at the subjects of his messages in his inbox. Most were just about meetings or requests for extensions.

Boring.

Boring.

Way boring.

Serves me right.

“What’s this?” I whispered to myself, reading the subject. “‘Paid internship candidates?’”

Usually, internship opportunities were just posted online, often getting filled before the majority of the student body even saw them. Apaidinternship would be especially competitive and cutthroat, likeHunger Games, but worse because everyone was fueled by a steady diet of Natty Ice and instant ramen.

He has over a hundred unopened emails with multiple read ones mixed throughout. He’ll just assume he opened it.

My heartbeat hammered in my chest as I did something stupid.

I opened the damn email.

I’m going to hell.

Keeping an ear out for Damien, I scanned the message.

Okay, I’m going to hell, but it’ll be worth it.

I wanted that job. Badly.

Closing my eyes, I tried to decide what to do.

I could stalk the online listing and hope I saw it before everyone else. But the chance of that happening was slim, which meant I was waving goodbye to a dream job.

I could tell Damien I saw the email. Then I had to hope he wasn’t furious I’d snooped in his email,andthat he was willing to give me preferential treatment, something I’d been adamant he never do.

Or I could forward the email to myself before deleting all traces of it from Damien’s computer.

Again, I’d like to think I had to spend time deciding what to do…

But I didn’t.

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