The Dating Experiment (Better With You #2)

by Briar Prescott

Everything about my boss just makes him supremely murderable. His flaws are many.

I’m about as deadly as a cheese sandwich, in that I could choke you, but it would definitely happen by accident.

The dimple is back. I repeat, the dimple. Is. Back.

“It’s good to keep your inner child alive,” I say. “I don’t have an inner child. Even as an actual child, I had an inner adult.”

J: I’m really sorry. About the drunk messages. And the… you know what. Seb: The photo of your dick? J: A true friend would have gone with the vague description.

I’m trying to meet my online crush. In walks my boss. What kind of a god-awful plot twist is that?

This whole situation would be sort of funny if I weren’t one of the main characters in this comedy of errors.

I have come to the decision to resign from my post as your PA, effective immediately. I’ve learned a lot from you. Mainly how to take deep breaths and count to ten in my head, but I’m sure that skill will come in handy in the future.

By Friday afternoon, I’m ready to actually print out all of the seven resignation letters I’ve written over this past week—even the one that just said “Fuck you, I quit” in capital letters—crumple it into one huge ball, and chuck it at Connor’s head. Pick your favorite, you ass!

you never seem to get my coffee order right.” “Start ordering normal coffee instead of trying to hit every word in the Starbucks menu like you’re playing coffee bingo, and I will.”

“This almost makes up for having to put up with you for these last three years,” I gasp as my dick rubs against his. His palm moves to the back of my head as he draws me closer. “It does make for an interesting change to my usual need to strangle you.”

“You’ve been insufferable,” I murmur. I can feel his breaths on my lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a more frustrating person in my life.” “You’re rude,” I whisper against his lips. “You’re annoyingly cheerful.” He flicks his tongue over my lower lip. I moan. “Kiss me.”

“What do you want?” Connor asks, lips still against mine. “Your fingers in my ass for a start,” I reply immediately. “And then I want to sit on your cock.”

“Condom?” Connor growls. “Wallet. Wait a sec.” I let go of his cock, and he growls. “I can manage. Just put your hand back.” I grin. “Yes, sir.”

“Fuck, you’re…” His voice drops off.

“Intolerable?” I pant next to his ear. He shakes his head.

“Infuriating?” “Only ...

“Naked?” I start to push myself upward, his cock slowly sliding out of me as I go. He nods, eyes closed.

“Tight?” I ask, nipping at his earlobe, kneeling above him with only the head of his cock inside me.

“Talking way too much,” he says as he grabs onto my hips and ...

When clothed, we bicker continuously. Turns out the magic solution to make us stop is removing the clothes.

“This has been—" I start. “A mistake,” Jamie says and nods seriously. I grit my teeth. “You and I should have never—” “Fucked each other’s brains out?”

“We can’t—” “Have sex in the office anymore,” Jamie says. “I agree. Very unprofessional.”

“This is—” I say in the most measured voice I can muster in these circumstances. “Wrong.”

“Would you stop putting words into my mouth?” I growl. “Why? Would you like me to put something else in your mouth?”

I don’t do well with bright lights like Jamie. I have a history of dimming them with my presence.

“I dare you.” Do not even think about it, Connor. You need two letters. N and o. Now get them out of your mouth. “You’re on.” Wrong order, you fucking idiot.

“My track record in dating is awful. That’s not accurate enough. I don’t date.” “Have you tried?” I ask. “Yes.” He says nothing else. “Maybe it’ll be different with me,” I say. “And while we find out that you’re mistaken, we’ll make a horrible mess.”

“We’ll conduct a dating experiment. We’ll do the things people do when they date, but it’s an experiment. It’s a draft contract. Nothing’s finalized. We’ll just take it all a day at a time and go with the flow. Until the fall. When you’re no longer my boss.”

And when I’m kissing Jamie, the world gets just a tiny bit quieter. And I fit just a tiny bit better.

“What should I do with you?” I murmur into his ear. He squirms underneath my touch, like he’s fighting the need to push into my hand. He fails. “For starters, I’d consider moving your hand,” he says on an exhale. “Away?” “Don’t you dare.”

Hands are always the worst part when speaking to somebody. I never know what to do with them. And they seem to double in length every time I stand in front of people.

ME

There was always tension between you two, but I figured it was the gruesome-murder-suicide-in-the-office type of tension and not the I-want-to-rip-your-clothes-off variety.”

“There’s no love here,” I say sharply. “Naturally. The dopey look when you say Jamie’s name and the general air of terror that surrounds you speak only of mild curiosity.”

“I told my family I was seeing you.” “Like one would see a ghost?” I ask because it seems like the more likely option as opposed to saying that in the dating sense of the word. “You have been haunting me lately.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says hoarsely. I shake my head and thread my fingers through the hair at the back of his head, pulling him closer until our foreheads are pressed together. His hot breath tickles over my lips as I lock eyes with him. “No. I’m going to be the life of you.”

We stumble into the cabin I rented for us. Kissing. Drop our crumpled clothes on the floor. Kissing. Reach the bedroom. Kissing. Fall on the bed. Kissing.

“Ah well, I didn’t have high expectations of romance when I picked you, so I’m not really disappointed.”

“My greatest hits. Starting from you’re hired and ending with I love you.”