Forbidden Intern Read online

  It’s hard to believe he chose to move into my neighborhood. The families there tend to be well off, but they still have jobs. Of course, Mr. Drake has a job too, but he could quit tomorrow and never work another day in his life.

  My stomach rumbles. I’d planned to go to one of the eateries nearby, but maybe I’ll check out the cafeteria. I might as well get acquainted with some of my fellow employees, and having company for lunch will give me something to think about besides my enigmatic, unbearably hot boss.

  After Miss Collins has me fill out a bunch more forms and issues me a badge, I take the elevator down and get off on the sixth floor. The cafeteria is nicer than its name suggests. It takes up the whole floor, with lots of sunlight coming in through banks of windows, plants everywhere, nice booths and tables, and decor worthy of an upscale restaurant. The place is packed, which bodes well.

  I wind up with a green salad, a bowl of tomato soup, and the most amazing-looking grilled cheese sandwich I’ve ever seen. A young woman around my age waves to me from a nearby table, and I approach with a smile.

  “Have a seat,” she offers perkily. “You’re the new intern, right?”

  I laugh and pull out a chair. “How did you know?”

  “Miss Collins sends out daily announcements. And your name is on your badge.” She grins at me. “I’m Holly.”

  “Nice to meet you, Holly. How long have you worked here?”

  “Since I started college. I’m part-time during the school year, and full-time in the summers.”

  “That’s cool.” I glance around the cafeteria. “He seems to take good care of his employees.”

  “Hunter’s very generous.”

  I send her a curious look. “You know him?”

  Her smile dims a little. “He’s a friend of my dad’s.”

  “Oh.” Maybe that’s how she got her job, and she’s uncomfortable bringing it up. I don’t mention that Mr. Drake is my neighbor because that would sound worse, even though it has nothing to do with how I got the internship. “So what department are you in?”

  “Marketing. Convincing the masses they just have to have the next exciting product from Drake industries.” The way she says it, I can’t tell if she’s trying to be sardonic about marketing and capitalism, or make herself sound self-effacing, or if she’s cynical about the company. Whatever she’s thinking, I don’t want to go there.

  “Anyway,” she goes on when I don’t respond, “let’s talk about something more interesting. Like Hunter.” Her eyes gleam. “Isn’t he scrumptious? What’s it like working with him?”

  I don’t like her calling him Hunter. Even if she is on a first-name basis with him, it’s not appropriate when we’re at work. And, if I’m honest, there’s a tiny part of me that rankles at the intimacy it implies.

  Quashing my response, I lift one shoulder. “He’s …” Disturbing. Enticing. Irresistible. “Fine.”

  Holly leans in. “Oh, come on. It’s just us girls. You can tell me.”

  I force a smile. “Of course he’s attractive; I don’t have to tell you that. But he doesn’t walk around striking poses like a model or something. He just works, like any normal person would.”

  “Well, you’re no fun.” She smiles to show she doesn’t really mean it, and we fall silent to attend to our meals. Which are delicious.

  I’ll definitely be eating here again.

  6

  The One

  Hunter

  Cameron Thorne looks across the table we’re sharing at El Greco. “What’s up? You’ve practically vibrating with frustration. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you hadn’t been laid in months.”

  Cam is one of my few close friends. On paper, we might seem an unlikely pair. He’s old money, and I’m self-made nouveau riche; he’s a hedge fund manager, while I’m in technology,

  But despite our disparate backgrounds, we have a lot in common, including a willingness to work hard, a low tolerance for bullshit, and an appreciation for beautiful women.

  From the start, Cam’s felt more like the brother I never had than a friend. I keep his secrets, and he keeps mine.

  I wasn’t planning on telling him about Lily. But if I can trust anyone with the truth about her, it’s Cameron. I finish my bite of pasta and decide to level with him.

  “Fate has thrown me a curve ball. You know I moved into the new house a few weeks ago.”

  “Yes.” He grins. “Hobnobbing with the hoi polloi by living in an ordinary upper-class neighborhood, instead of behind the walls of an exclusive estate. My family is scandalized.”

  “No doubt.” They’d be even more shocked if they knew my gym is in a rough neighborhood. I don’t take unnecessary risks, but I’m not about to live in a gilded cage.

  Cam understands all that, so I don’t need to rehearse my reasons for him. “There’s a girl – a young woman – in the neighborhood. She’s …” I search for the words, then shake my head. “Fuck, Cam. She’s perfect.”

  His face turns serious. He knows exactly what that means. “How old is she?”

  “Twenty-one. She just finished her junior year in college.”

  “Young,” he says thoughtfully, “but not impossibly young. Has she played before?”

  “No.” I’m as certain of that as I am my own name. “She’s relatively inexperienced.”

  “A lot of work, starting from scratch. Is she open to you?”

  “She’s been flirting with me for weeks. Jogging by my house in tiny little short-shorts, waving hello. Practically begging for my attention.”

  Cam’s eyes narrow. “And you haven’t taken her up on her blatant invitation because …”

  “Because she’s twenty-one, and I’m not in the habit of robbing cradles. Because she’s my neighbor, and while her parents aren’t friends of mine, I’m sure to make their acquaintance. And because she was making it too easy. I like a challenge, as you know.”

  “Yet here you are, seething with frustration as you haven’t been for the last several weeks. Has she begun to challenge you?”

  “She’s my new summer intern.”

  He stares, then throws back his head and laughs. “That’s a hell of a curve ball, my friend. You didn’t even know her name?”

  “No. I was keeping my distance. We’d never actually spoken. But now that we have …”

  He sobers again. “Now that you have, you know she’s perfect?”

  “Yes.”

  “So perfect that she calls to you.”

  I have to close my eyes for a moment as the weight of his words settles on me. “Yes.”

  “Then she’s worth waiting for.”

  I push my plate away. “I know that. I’m just not sure I can wait.”

  “I don’t envy you, Hunter.” He shakes his head. “When I find the one, I hope to hell all I have to do is claim her.”

  I go still. I’ve been telling myself Lily’s a diversion, a future amusement. “I don’t know if she’s THE one, Cam.”

  He levels me with a look that’s one of the reasons I value his friendship. “But you don’t know she isn’t. Do you?”

  I shake my head. “All I know for certain is she’s driving me crazy after a single morning in her company, and waiting three months to have her may be more than I’m willing to put up with.”

  “Even though you know what kind of complications will ensue if you go ahead now.”

  “Even though.”

  His grin this time is wry. “Then good luck. And you know I’m here if there’s anything I can do when it all hits the fan.”

  “Thanks,” I say drily. If Lily overcomes my good sense and survival instincts, I’ll do what I have to to manage the fallout.

  7

  Velvet Claws

  Lily

  “Lily.”

  I look over at his desk from where I’m sitting at mine, working away. “Yes, Mr. Drake?”

  His eyes darken every time I say his name. But I keep telling myself it’s just my imagination.

  He
clears his throat. “I’m going to a board meeting now. I may be late getting back, but you can go ahead and leave when it’s time.”

  “Yes, Mr. Drake.”

  He looks away, as if he can’t bear to see me any longer, and I strengthen my resolve against the urge to fly across the office and crawl into his lap.

  Acting like a nun is hard.

  It’s Friday, the end of my first week at Drake Industries, and I’ve been a very good girl. Every day, I battle my instinct to dress as provocatively as I can, and instead don my most demure outfits. I speak softly, keep my eyes downcast, and don’t flirt at all.

  And with each passing day, the tension between us has only gotten stronger. At night, I fall asleep with my hand down my panties, only to toss and turn with restless dreams. Hunter Drake chasing me. Holding me. Taking me.

  He leaves every day for lunch, and I go down to the cafeteria and eat with Holly. It always feels like he can’t wait to get away from me … but when he’s here, he watches me. I never catch him at it – if I lift my head, he’s engrossed in his work. I feel it, all the same.

  I try to keep my distance, but we have to talk about the project, and my progress. Sometimes he comes and stands behind me, or leans over me to look at the laptop, and I feel the heat from his body, and smell his cologne, something subtle but so intrinsically masculine it makes me wet. It’s probably custom-made for him and costs as much as a luxury car, but I can testify that it’s money well spent.

  Mr. Drake stands up and buttons his jacket. He looks so unhappy that I forget my place. “Is something wrong, sir?”

  A muscle works in his jaw. He doesn’t look at me. Damn, I’m such an idiot. I’m his intern, not his friend or his confidante. Certainly not his lover.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to--”

  “Lily.” He almost snaps it. I flinch, and he closes his eyes for a long moment. When he opens them, he finally meets my gaze.

  The storm of emotion on his face stuns me. He so rarely lets any kind of feeling show. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I need you to know that.”

  “All right,” I say cautiously.

  “Things are … difficult right now, for a variety of reasons. I’m going to be preoccupied, and moody, a great deal while I sort through them. I’ll apologize in advance for that, and ask you not to take it personally.”

  I feel like he’s telling me a half-truth. The instincts I keep trying to ignore insist that I am definitely one of his problems. But I won’t let myself believe that it’s because he wants me as much as I do him.

  Whatever the reason, he needs to know he can count on me. “I understand, Mr. Drake. I promise not to take anything personally.”

  Something that looks a lot like anger flashes in his eyes. What did I do wrong now? This time, it’s me who looks away.

  Moments later, I hear the click of the office door closing behind him. As always when he leaves me, I let out a sigh of mingled relief and regret. But now that he’s gone, my libido has free reign.

  My hand glides up my thigh, then slips under my skirt to rub my clit over my panties. You have time, my wicked mind whispers. Miss Collins never bothers me when I’m in here alone.

  Mr. Drake has his own washroom (of course). I slip inside it, close the door, and tug my skirt up. Five seconds later I’m sitting on the lid of the toilet, legs spread, stroking my clit.

  I let my fantasies run wild, fueled by the steamy books I devour. Hunter Drake undresses me, kisses me, touches every inch of me. My hand moves faster. “Mr. Drake,” I moan softly. Even in my imagination, I can’t address him as Hunter. “Ohh, Mr. Drake.”

  Pleasure coils in my center, tighter and tighter, the pressure building until I’m ready to burst. My moans get louder, echoing off the gleaming tile. I wrap my legs around my fantasy boss and he carries me into the shower.

  He drives inside me, plunging deep. “Yes – yes – harder – yes – oh please – Mr. Drake!”

  My climax rips through me with velvet claws, curling my toes, making me shudder and gasp. It takes several long seconds for me to come down, and so I barely register the faint noise in the office beyond me.

  The sound of a door clicking shut.

  8

  Breaking Point

  Hunter

  I’m sitting at the head of a large mahogany table with the world’s biggest hard-on.

  In keeping with the current threat level, the board is getting an update on Lily’s project, but none of the data is stored on the company’s servers. They all have printed handouts, which I will collect again when we’re done.

  But since we’re usually high-tech – what with being a technology company and all – and since I’ve had my brain in my dick all week, I forgot the folder with the handouts.. So I had to go back to my office, and noticed at once that Lily wasn’t at her desk. Then I saw the closed bathroom door.

  And then I heard her.

  Just a soft sound, but unmistakeable in its nature. That fast, I was hard as a rock. And there was only one thing to do.

  Knowing it would make me late to the meeting and having zero fucks to give about that, I went and stood on the other side of the bathroom door. And listened as she made herself come, calling my name.

  I almost came myself.

  Under any other circumstances, I would have thrown the door open and shown her exactly what happens to naughty girls. But I can’t postpone updating the board. So I willed my cock to behave, strode to my desk, collected the folder, and left the office.

  And now I’m pretending to care about whatever the board is blathering on about while I keep flashing back to the sound of her orgasm. Touching Lily would be foolish. Taking her, unwise in the extreme.

  Taming her … exquisite.

  I’m known for my work ethic, my patience, my discipline. Today, they’ve all been stretched to the breaking point.

  Lily Whitaker is mine. And unless the universe sends me an overwhelming “no,” it’s time to start teaching her just how things are going to be between us.

  9

  My Good Girl

  Lily

  When I open the bathroom door and peek out, the office is empty and silent. I can almost believe I imagined that sound, but I know I didn’t. Someone was in here.

  Did they hear me? My mind whirls with the possibilities: dismissal if whoever it was tells Mr. Drake. Blackmail, maybe. Or silence, with me wondering, forever, if anyone knows and what they might do about it.

  I’d almost rather be blackmailed. If I could be certain Mr. Drake wouldn’t fire me for rubbing one out in his bathroom, I’d tell anyone threatening me to go jump in a lake.

  Creeping back to my desk as if someone might be watching, I get back to work, but it’s hard to concentrate. The minutes seem to last hours as they tick slowly by.

  Finally, it’s time to go. Mr. Drake still isn’t back from his meeting. He’s always here when I leave, and I feel strangely forlorn at not being able to see him again before the weekend.

  I shut down my laptop, gather my things, and go out the door, ready to tell Miss Collins goodnight. She isn’t at her desk. The whole floor feels empty, but I know there’s some kind of conference room in the other area, past the reception desk. Probably the board is meeting there, and Miss Collins must be taking the minutes.

  The door handle to Mr. Drake’s office, when I examine it, has a keyhole. So it’s meant to be locked. I go back inside and sit down in one of the visitors’ chairs in front of Mr. Drake’s desk, turning it sideways so my back isn’t to the door.

  And I wait.

  It’s another hour before Mr. Drake comes in, carrying a folder with some papers in it. He stops short at the sight of me. “Lily.”

  He doesn’t say, What are you doing here, but the question is obvious. “I don’t have a key,” I explain. “And there was no one here. I wasn’t sure if it was safe to leave the laptop.”

  His eyes get warm. “My good girl,” he says softly.

&nb
sp; A quiver runs through me at his words. I swallow hard, and his eyes go to my throat. I know my pulse is pounding there, under my skin, hard enough for him to see.

  He brings his gaze back to mine, and I stop breathing. There’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before. It makes me feel scared and hungry and like my skin is too tight.

  10

  Good Night

  Lily

  “Lily,” he says quietly. “Come here.” It’s somehow both a demand and a question … as if the demand is the question.

  I don’t understand what’s going on, not exactly, but I know – with every independent, twenty-first century, feminist bone in my body – that I want to be his good girl. Standing from my chair, my legs a little shaky, I cross to him.

  He looks down at me, very serious now. “So beautiful,” he says in that same soft voice, as if to himself. I start to tremble – with wanting him, so near but so far, and with the understanding that something momentous is happening here.

  Lifting a hand, he brushes the backs of his knuckles over my cheekbone, gently, so gently. “Mr. Drake,” I whisper.

  “Lily …” He seems to gather his thoughts before he goes on. “Propriety says we can’t be anything to each other but employer and employee.”

  Disappointment stabs me like a jagged, rusty blade. “I know, sir.”

  “I want to break that rule.”

  My gasp is loud in the still room. “You do?”

  “Yes. The question is, do you want to break it with me?”

  “I do, sir.” I can barely stand upright; I’m getting dizzy. “Very much.”