Page 82 of Rules in Love
After eating more and making out for a good twenty minutes—most of which was watched through the window by popcorn-eating Gareth the Creep—we packed up and headed inside.
“Austen. Grant. My office. Now.”
“Shit! Jason!” My stomach dropped, but Finn grabbed my hand and spun me to face him before I could freak out.
“No matter what happens, Scarlett. I’m not letting you go. I want everyone to know. I lo—”
“Austen, Grant, I said now!”
“For fuck’s sake! Shut up! Shut up!” The words flew out before I could slap my own hand over my mouth to stop them. Finn and others around us erupted into laughter, including Teddy, who maturely added pointing. Jason didn’t seem to find it so funny.
Scarlett
“She wants my design. I got the house?”
Pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger and huffing so loudly his hair shook, Jason nodded and then repeated himself slowly. “Yes, Grant. For the third time, yes. Jocelyn had a change of heart and decided to go with your original concept.”
Logically, I understood this. Yet somehow, it was still beyond my comprehension. “So, let me get this straight. I haven’t blown my career by dry-humping Finn in the garden?” Jason’s slow nodding continued, as did my verbal diarrhea. “You don’t give a crap about Finn and me? You just wanted to tell us about the house?”
“Yes. Scarlett.”
“But, Jason, what was with all the staring and hovering?”
“Victoria and I had a bet over how long it would be before you two banged—”
“And also, Finn and I have worked really hard on this for weeks. Jocelyn said she was happy. What exactly changed her heart?”
“Okay, we’re moving on already?” Jason seemed a touch exasperated, threw his hands in the air, and stalked back to his desk. “Well, it seems that after spending some time at her land, she reviewed all three designs, and yours just felt right. Is there more to it than that? Perhaps. Frankly, as long as we have her business, I don’t care. Finn, you can still act as a consultant and help out when needed, but otherwise, she’s all yours, Grant. Congratulations.” On an elongated sigh, he began shuffling papers and gave us the why-are-you-still-here look.
“But—”
Finn slapped his hand over my mouth and whispered, “You need to stop talking now,” as he slowly backed us toward the exit. The second the door closed behind us, I broke free of his grip and spun to face him.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I can talk to Jocelyn and—”
“No. No, you will do no such thing, and you will not be sorry, Red. This is exactly how it should be. You’re brilliant and deserving. No one else could do anything close to what you can, and everyone knows it.”
“I dunno, babe. It doesn’t feel right. I loved working with you.”
“Babe?” He smiled, pulled me closer, and tugged on a curl. “Did you just call me babe?”
Embarrassed as all fuck, I snorted and punched him in the arm. It was a mistake, not only because of the immaturity, but because the man’s arms were so freaking bulky it hurt like hell. “Shut up and stop changing the subject.”
“Ahh, okay, bully. I’m not sure I want to since you’re bashing me, but Jason said I’m to act as a consultant.” He looked around and dragged me into an empty meeting room—the only one without walls of glass—and locked the door behind us. “You do know what this means, don’t you? You’re kind of my boss. I like it, Red. I like it a lot.” He thrust his hips into me, and yes, I could feel that he really did like it.
“Finn, you can’t be walking around here with that.”
“So, help me get rid of it, then, boss.” He threw me onto the table. My legs were roughly kneed apart, and my underwear ripped. Ripped! It was so fucking hot.
“Fuck, Finn. We are going to get caught. We can’t keep doing this.”
“Nah, it’ll be alright. I’ll be real quick.” Houdini the Second produced a condom from nowhere and unzipped his fly, but with the wrapper in his mouth about to be torn, there was a knock on the door. We both froze—kind of. Finn kept thrusting into me but at a reduced rate.
“Is everything alright in there?” Fucking Gareth the Creep.Had to be him.
Finn was having trouble maintaining his composure and had a rubber in his mouth, so I spoke for us. “Yes, it’s fine, Gareth, thank you. I’m just…”—cue fake tears—“on an…uhh…emotional phone call. I’ll try to keep it down.”
“Are you sure you don’t need a hand?” he sleazed.
