Page 13 of Susie's Orc

I make it to my desk and survive most of the morning, right up until my coffee habit whispers in my ear and I get up from my desk with mug in hand. It’s a mistake, because the moment I’m in the fifth floor breakroom—the one the Community Outreach Department shares with Accounting—my luck runs out.

“Good morning, Susie.”

Like Pavlov’s fricken bell, it only takes the rumble of that deep voice for a shot of arousal to run all the way through me. I swallow hard and turn around to face him.

“Hey, Jonah.” I try for casual, but I’m sure I land somewhere near ‘still horny and embarrassed out of my fucking mind for this orc.’

The corners of his lips quirk up in a knowing smile, and even though that sends another little spark through my veins, I need to remember I’m annoyed with him right now.

He gave me two of the best orgasms of my life then got all weird and left. I should be pissed. I shouldn’t be a lump of horny putty, just begging for his enormous hands to do what they want with me.

Before I can remind him of that, though, he takes a long, slow look at me with unmistakable heat in his hazel eyes, and when he finally meets my gaze again, all my thoughts burn to ash.

“Nice sweater.”

It is a nice sweater. Tight and red, with a vee neck that shows off my collarbones and my non-existent cleavage.

I’m not really even surprised he noticed it. What had he said when I asked him about noticing my sweaters?

Every godsdamn day.

Like he can read my mind, that smile of his grows even more wicked, and my cheeks heat. Unbidden, a series of images from Friday flash through my mind. How he pulled off my sweater in one smooth tug. The way he looked down at my bare breasts and handled them with such rugged tenderness. The way he…

Stop, Susie. Jesus.

Jonah’s still looking at me, eyes darker now, and when his nostrils flare slightly, I remember what he said about scenting me, about knowing just how wet he makes me.

Goddamn it.

I’m going to have to quit working here. Either that, or spend every Monday through Friday being completely, devastatingly transparent about how much I want this confusing, handsome orc who rejected me so spectacularly.

Taking my coffee and fully intending to turn tail and run back to my desk, Jonah’s deep voice stops me in my tracks.

“Susie. We should talk about Friday.”

Oh, my god. He’s not doing this. Not now. Not here. Double-checking to make sure there’s no one else nearby, I lower my voice and practically hiss my reply.

“No, I don’t think we do.”

A flash of surprise on his face. “You’re angry.”

It’s not a question, and not something I feel like I need to dignify with an answer. I step toward the door, but Jonah puts himself right in my path, halting me.

“I need to get back to work.”

He shakes his head. “Just hear me out?”

I don’t want to, I really don’t want to, but when I glance up from where I’d been stubbornly staring at the center of his chest, he’s got that same pained look on his face that he did on Friday. I still don’t want to hear him out, but seeing that look thaws my resolve a little.

“Fine,” I say. “You’ve got sixty seconds.”

To emphasize my point, I lift my wrist to look at my watch, only to realize I’m not wearing one.

Perfect.

Look at me, preserving whatever pathetic bit of dignity I have left.

Lips twitching, Jonah does an admirable job of not laughing at me before he regains his composure. “I don’t want you to think I regret what happened on Friday.”

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