Chapter 28

I t's odd to be alone in my office again. Not only did I get used to Andrea's presence, but I also grew fond of it. She fidgets, and moves, and sings, and can't keep an organized desk to save her life. Which are all things I hate.

But the space feels empty now that she isn't in it anymore, and I keep looking at the bare half of my desk, wishing her screens were still there with her mess.

I'm sure she's happy to be downstairs again with the others, so I take comfort in knowing that returning to normal is good for one of us, at least. And I can always join the team in the Lair if the silence becomes too oppressive.

That's exactly what I consider doing when someone knocks on the door. "Come in."

As if my mind conjured her, Andrea appears as the door opens. She's wearing the Hulk T-shirt she had on during her first day here, and it throws me back in time to those first moments in the elevator. But the high-waisted black skirt it's tucked into takes me to a hypothetical future where I rip it off her.

She hesitates, wondering if she should close the door or leave it ajar. Everyone usually does the former, so I say, "Close it."

She complies and walks around my desk to stand next to me. "Hi," she greets, bending just enough to be level with me. I don't need a more vocal invitation to give her a kiss.

"Hi. How was your Sunday?"

"Restful. Yours?"

"I worked." She frowns disapprovingly. "What brings you here?"

"I'm having issues with the deep learnin g protocol, and I was told you could help me."

"I might, but what do I get in exchange?" I try, playful and seductive.

"An app that'll make you millions," she snorts with an eye roll while moving to get a chair to sit by me.

I chuckle and save what I was doing. We work for a while, miraculously behaving, finding enough satisfaction in our knees touching under the desk. After about two hours of focused work, I'm done correcting the issues while explaining the process to her. Once everything is saved, she returns the chair to the other side before coming back to me. She doesn't seem ready to head back downstairs yet. Which is good because I want more of her.

"So, how does it feel to get your office back to yourself? Do you miss me terribly?" she asks, leaning on the desk with her arms folded over her chest.

"It's awfully quiet now."

"I wasn't noisy."

"You got carried away with the music at times," I reveal. Vexed, she frowns. "I'm not complaining. I quite enjoyed it when you hummed a tune or sang a verse. Especially the ones in Spanish."

"I'm not a good singer," she says with a grimace.

"I noticed."

Her jaw drops with amused indignation, and she attempts to move away from me. But I hook my fingers in the waistband of her pretty skirt and tug her closer.

"Good thing we won't have a karaoke machine at the party on Friday." This time, my teasing earns me a weak punch in the shoulder, but she stays right there. "Do you have your costume?"

Kelex's eighth anniversary is right around the corner, and like every year, everyone gets absurdly excited about it. It's always a big fuss, where we treat our employees with an evening of fun.

Since Kevin and I weren't sure about Kelex's official birth date, we picked September 23rd—a significant day for several reasons. Richard Rhodes invented the very first version of the hearing aid, and Nintendo was founded on that same date. Three years into celebrating Kelex's birthday, dressing up as Nintendo characters for the party became a tradition.

Andrea looks very smug when she answers, "I actually won the privilege of being Mario this morning."

Her smile is beyond endearing, so I pull her even closer. "That's a great honor. I'm surprised the team let you have it—they usually have a whole system in place for who gets to be Mario."

"Like I said, I won it," she expl ains, even prouder.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I beat the shit out of them in the Arena of Doom. One. By. One."

"Really?"

She nods. "We had a foosball table growing up, and I used to kick my brother's ass all the time." She pretends to polish her nails on her shoulder and then blows on them. "It looks like I haven't lost my skills."

God, how I adore this woman. "When can I see you this week?" I ask.

"I have something tonight with Tamika. And I have been invited to my first girl's night with a few other colleagues tomorrow. Other than that, I'm free all week."

"Damn it," I mumble. "My sister is in town from Wednesday to Friday. She has a whole schedule, and I don't think I'll have a minute to myself."

"So… the best we can do is Friday, after the party."

I stand up, trapping her between my desk and my body. I'm not waiting five days to be with her. "Or we could find another way," I suggest, mouth dropping to the side of her throat.

"Lex, we're supposed to be discreet," she protests with little resolve.

My hands sensuously caress her petite body, exploring her curves, squeezing, pulling, fondling… When they reach under her skirt, my palms and fingers grip her ass, skin to skin. What a naughty girl, wearing a thong under that little skirt…

"We can't do this, Lex. It's the middle of the afternoon."

"We'll be fast," I argue before guiding her to the empty side of the desk—the one she used to occupy.

"Lex, your ‘fast' is everyone else's record performance."

"I went fast enough back at the trivia night."

I spin her around and press on her back to make her bend over my desk. Fuck, how many times have I imagined doing exactly this?

"Lex, someone might—"

Her words die with a whimper when I eagerly hike up her skirt, bending to press a long and insistent kiss on the birthmark she has there. Then I fondle both mounds, which has her moaning softly. I fish the thong from between them and stretch it to the side, revealing pink folds already glistening with want. With bated breath, she waits for whatever I'll do next, back arched in a clear invitation.

"Fuck, Andrea… I'll never get tired of your—"

Firm knocks on the door pull us out of the erotic trance, and she straightens up in a split second. I spit out a curse and move away as she tugs her skirt down.

As soon as she looks proper again and there's some distance between us, I command, "Come in."

Beatrix from accounting enters and greets us with a smile. It doesn't seem she suspects anything as she hands me a pile of documents. After a few mundane exchanges, she exits the room, closing the door behind her.

"I can't believe I let you do that!" Andrea whisper-shouts with vehemence, pointing at the spot I just bent her over. "This wasn't discreet ."

"Alright. But just to be clear, you could have stopped me."

"I was telling you we had to stop," she responds, appalled.

"Yes, and you were doing it with such spirit."

"Fuck you! It's not my fault if my brain stops working as soon as you touch me."

"And it's my fault if mine stops the moment you walk into the room?" I ask in the same irritated tone.

That apparently short-circuits her brain because she stays silent, jaw hanging. When she shakes herself out of it, it's to say, "We obviously can't be trusted to be alone in the same room together, like hormonal teenagers with no boundaries. So, from now on, being alone together at work is off-limits."

"I don't like that."

"Well, tough luck, big guy. Ten more seconds and that woman would have found us with your dick inside me," she explains, pointing at the door.

"It would have been my tongue," I refute. "I was going to eat you out first—I'm not a savage."

Heat creeps up her cheeks, and she nearly scowls at me. "I'll tell you when I need help, and you can come downstairs. Or I'll come up here with someone. Or we leave the door wide open."

I still don't like that, but I give in with a sigh. "Alright."

She looks satisfied with that, so she walks up to the door. "Let me know if you have some free time while your sister's here." With her hand on the handle, she impishly adds, "I'm sorry for the blue balls."

"And I'm sorry for the blue ovaries."

That makes her giggle, and the sound stays in my ears long after she's gone.

I don't know what Lucy has planned during her stay here, but if I can get even half an hour to myself, I know how I'll spend it.

Buried to the hilt in that tease of a woman.

W hat the fuck is wrong with me?

I lasted ten months deprived of sex, and now I can't even handle five days without it. What has Lex done to me?

I'm a Lexomaniac, a slex addict. I need my dose of it before I go insane. If I'm completely honest, my addiction isn't solely focused on the phenomenal dick but on the whole man attached to it. I miss spending time with him, simply talking and being around him.

Work-wise, things are back to normal. The high of the convention wore off, and my old habits with the guys are back—gaming lunch breaks, geeky debates about video games, movies, shows… At home with Tami, everything is smooth as well. We have a furry companion for a few days—friends of hers who are going on a short getaway—and we go through a few rom-coms with the cat by our side.

It's all very nice, but thank fuck it's Friday. As incredible as the party will be, I'm even more impatient for what comes after. The whole office gets the afternoon off so we can get ready while the party planning committee prepares everything.

Tami is dressed up as Sasha from Pokémon, looking cute as hell, and I'm a real-life Mario—red sweater, denim overalls, an alarmingly realistic mustache, and an actual tool kit belt. I regret not being a little more feminine, but I'm still proud of the fit, so I send pictures. Kate says I'm hot, liking the creepy vibe I'm sending off, and my mom jokes that I'm five minutes away from luring kids into the back of a van with candies.

The party itself is '80s themed, which I adore. The desks of the open space have been pushed to the side, hidden by panels covered with graffiti. The color scheme is vivid neons, with accessories, balloons, a giant boombox, a disco ball… It's all very kitsch but also perfect.

And the costumes… Oh, the costumes are fantastic, and it shows that it's been going on for years because people got extra creative about it. Someone dressed up as a GameCube, and their partner is the controller, with a rope tying them together. There's also a banana peel from Mario Kart , but the most impressive costume is a pot from Zelda , which can break and be reassembled thanks to magnets. Soon after arriving, I'm much less proud of my costume. It's too basic. I don't have time to dwell on it as my eyes catch a flash of bright pink.

"Hi, guys!" I greet them with enthusiasm. Then, unable to hold back a smile, I turn to Oli.

Because we were the finalists in the battle to be Mario, I got to choose his costume for tonight, and I must say, I chose well. He's wearing a Birdo onesie that is several sizes too small for him. The sleeves barely reach the middle of his forearms, and the legs sit mid-calf. Finding a costume on such short notice had to be hard.

"Hi, Birdo," I greet him with a grin. He smiles back with a roll of his eyes.

Kevin's here with his wife, who disguised her very pregnant stomach as Kirby. Kevin wears an "I heart Kirby" T-shirt, which is cheesy but adorable. Everyone and their plus ones are here, it seems. Or almost everyone.

I find myself upstairs a few minutes after arriving, opening the door to Lex's office. Of course, he's working while everyone is having fun downstairs. When he sees me, he does a surprised double-take, and I remember my mustache. Time to see if I'm sexy-creepy or just creepy-creepy.

"Hi, workaholic."

"You look very… handy," he jokes when I'm by his side, pointing at my tool belt.

"That's exactly what I was going for. Thank you."

"Any time."

He, on the other hand, is wearing his usual clothes. "You look very boring."

"Thank you for the honesty. I appreciate it." His cheeky smile is endearing, and once more, I fight back the need to kiss him.

"You know what I mean. Where's your costume?"

"I don't wear costumes."

"What? Lex, you have to wear one. Everyone's on theme down there," I complain.

"Being the boss means I don't actually have to do anything. And I said I wasn't into costumes, not that I wasn't on theme."

Oh, does he have Donkey Kong boxer briefs on right now? My eyes drop to his crotch, and an amused smile stretches his lips.

"Alright, let's get downstairs then," he suggests, turning off his computer and getting up. "How's the party?" he asks as we walk to the stairs.

"So cool! It's like the '80s down there, so I love it."

"I thought you might."

"Did you choose the theme?"

"I know you really like the era, so—" I stop in my tracks, stunned by his attention, and it takes him a couple of seconds to notice. "Are you alright?"

Oh, I'm more than alright. I'm amazing. "God, I could kiss you," I blurt out.

His reaction tells me I'm not the only one feeling sex deprived. Especially since I'm wearing a mustache right now, and he still wants to kiss me. I guess Kate was right and I'm sexy-creepy.

"Soon," he mutters, for himself as much as for me.

We don't enter the party floor together, just to be safe, and don't share anything more than stolen glances once all my coworkers surround us. The music is very much to my taste, and although I'm not the best dancer, I spend a good part of the evening doing just that.

Probably thanks to Lex and Kevin, the bass is cranked to the maximum, and light installations allow people to see and feel the music. In that sense, the numerous deaf and hard of hearing guests also have fun and rock the dancefloor. Tamika is an incredible dancer, and we goof around a lot. I almost manage to forget that I can't do all that with the one person I want to, whose eyes are often on me as we exchange knowing smiles. He spends most of the party in a corner, observing the fun from afar, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

Eventually, the people, the music, and the lights become overwhelming, even though I didn't drink much.

In need of a quiet moment, I head to the Troll's Lair. The glass door has been covered by a graffiti panel, so it's dark in here. And the music is still fairly loud, but it's already much better. "I think the plumbing issue is upstairs," a familiar voice playfully notes.

Oliver is here, too, leaning on his desk in the dark. "Needed some quiet time?" I ask before I walk toward him. The upper part of his Birdo costume is tied around his hips, exposing his white tee.

"I had a phone call to take."

"Nothing too serious, I hope?"

"Just my sister."

I lean on the desk next to him, and we stay silent for a moment, the muffled sound of the music and the people filling the air.

"You looked like you were having fun out there," he says, pointing at the door.

"Yes, a lot. I haven't danced this much since college."

"I could tell you didn't have much practice," he teases. Amused as much as I am offended, I turn to him with my mouth open in a silent protest. "You dance like they do in The Sims ."

"The first one or the last one?" I ask with squinted eyes, giving him one last chance to keep our friendship intact.

"Definitely the first one."

I softly punch his arm with a chuckle. "Take that back."

"Little lady, you should know only the truth hurts," he insists, massaging the spot I just hit.

"Seriously, Oli! Say I don't dance like a Sim, or I'll never be able to dance again."

"And it's a bad thing because…?"

Once more, I hit his arm, barely harder this time, stifling a giggle. We come up short of things to say, so there's nothing but the muffled sounds of "Maniac" by Michael Sembello for a moment.

"I miss how we used to be," Oli says out of the blue. "I miss you ."

Confusion, pain, and shock strike me. I didn't expect us to have this conversation right now. But I know what he means because I feel the change, too. In the end, it's better this way, especially for him.

Oli is a friend, and I don't want it to change. I won't ever like him the way he wants.

I have Lex. I want Lex.

Misunderstanding my torn expression, Oli straightens up before me, and his hands reach for my hip. It feels so incredibly wrong for him to touch me like this. Sheer panic floods me. No!

A cold shiver crawls up my spine, and my stomach churns when I understand he's about to kiss me.

A split second before I rip away from him, loud music invades the room as someone opens the door. Oli lets go of me, and I take a few steps back, giving him a reprimanding scowl, disappointed and disturbed by his attitude.

We both look toward the newcomer, and my blood freezes.

Fuck. No …

Lex is looking at both of us from the door's frame, doubt and confusion plastered on his face. Slowly, his features change and a mask of indifference tinted by a thin veil of anger replaces his turmoil.

"What the fuck is happening here?" he asks, his low voice dangerously calm.

Shit. This is bad.

"We were just talking," Oliver answers.

Lex doesn't buy it, an arrogantly inquisitive brow cocked up as he looks straight at me. My palms are sweaty, and even though I did nothing wrong, I feel guilty. "What he said."

Lex answers nothing, his attitude way too calm. Under his stern facade, I worry there's a storm raging within him. Eventually, Oli mumbles with a shrug, "I should go back."

Once it's just Lex and me, the tension—which is already pretty high—climbs even higher. Especially when he steps closer to me. Stop feeling guilty. You didn't do anything wrong.

"What the fuck was that?" he angrily asks.

"I think he tried to kiss me," I explain, choosing to speak the truth. Lex saw something anyway. "He probably drank a little too much."

"And what's your excuse?" His unfair a ccusation is full of bitterness.

Appalled, I give him a scandalized glare. " My excuse?"

Oh, hell no. He better not be accusing me of cheating because it's not only untrue, but also insulting. Lex's eyes keep drifting to my fake mustache, so I rip it off with an annoyed move, worried he won't take me seriously otherwise. I manage not to grimace at the burn it causes, but my eyes fill up with tears, anyway.

"You were here, too. In the dark with him," he continues.

"Yeah, I needed a quiet moment because it got too much out there. I didn't know he was in here."

"But then you knew, and you stayed."

"What!? So I can't even be in the same room as Oli anymore?" I ask, confused and angry. He's being ridiculous. I get he's jealous, but this isn't rational.

"Not when you're drunk, and he is too."

"I'm not drunk, barely tipsy. And I mean it this time." I'm trying to remain calm but failing. Knowing that he doesn't trust me hurts. "I was thrilled to be with my friends and colleagues, so I was having a great time, and that's the extent of it." I wait for him to defend himself, but he says nothing. I can tell he still doesn't fully believe me.

"I can't believe you'd imagine me capable of doing anything with anyone when you're the one constantly on my mind."

My words finally reach him, but it's too late. I'm beyond pissed. He offended me with his lack of trust.

"I was also excited about spending time with you later, you jerk! But I don't sleep with assholes who don't trust me, so I'll be spending my weekend with Idris instead," I blurt out, almost choking on my tongue when I realize what I just said. Okay, maybe I'm a little drunk.

Lex's eyes darken, his anger reborn at the mention of yet another man. Well, that'll teach him a lesson. Let the idiot worry over a stupid sex toy. That'll show him how ridiculous he is.

Eager to get out of here, I give him one last vexed glare and move for the door.

Lex grabs my arm as I pass by him, and before I can protest, argue, or even squeal, he slams me into his solid body and plasters his lips against mine. I shove his chest, still pissed, but I'm no match for his determination. Turns out I don't have much fight in me, anyway.

The intensity of his kiss melts me to the bones. He does it with anger, despair, and desire. A very explosive combination. I forget where we are, his accusations, being mad at him… I forget everything that isn't him.

His dominant temper, which he usually contains, is all out. He's imperious and commanding, his merciless tongue barely allowing mine to sample him, his greedy lips making it hard to br eathe, his powerful hands holding me in place against him, preventing me from moving even an inch. The music out there is "You Spin Me Round", which is not only fitting but also turns out to be an excellent song for kissing.

Part of me swoons at his possessiveness, surprised by the novelty of him being like this. It isn't a kiss. It's a message. A lesson. He's marking me as his, showing me who I belong to.

As if I didn't already know.

Someone yells outside, and it's loud enough to break through the music, the door, and then through my lust-fogged mind.

"Lex…" I pant, ripping myself away from him.

His lips drag against my throat instead, devouring the soft skin, making me shiver. Fuck, I don't want this to end, but it has to. "Lex, we have to stop," I insist, pushing him away. He groans with disapproval but eventually releases me, standing straight and tall. He's flushed, and I have no doubt I am, too.

"Alright. Let's go," he orders. I first think he means to the party, but then he continues. "Where's your bag for the weekend?"

"Wait, I didn't plan on staying the whole weekend. All I have is a toothbrush and clean underwear."

"We'll stop by your place before going to mine."

I hesitate, the argument from just before slowly coming back. I want to spend the weekend with him, but I also can't indulge his behavior by rewarding it with sex. As much as I enjoy his techniques, it's unfair.

"You can't do that every time we argue," I say, gesturing between us back and forth.

"We'll see."