Below Zero (The STEMinist Novellas, #3)

by Ali Hazelwood

Wow. A male engineer who’s not an asshole. The bar is pretty low, but I’m nevertheless impressed.

“Beautiful. You are very, very beautiful. Probably the most…And you’re obviously smart and funny, so…”

“Hannah.” The shock of hearing my name—in Ian’s voice, cocooned by the whistle of the wind, and through the metallic line of my satphone, no less—has me instantly shutting up. Until he continues. “Just relax and think of Mars, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

He’s still staring at me. Like he’s found his long-missing house keys and is afraid he’ll lose them again if he looks away.

“Is that why you came to rescue me?” I tease. “Because you were thinking about it? Because you have been secretly pining for years?” He meets my eyes squarely. “I don’t know that there was anything secret about that.”

“I don’t know. I just…” I could bullshit an answer for him. But it seems unfair. He’s earned more from me. “I just can’t believe that anyone would do that for me.” “Right.” He sighs and bites into his lower lip. “Hannah, if that changes. If you ever find yourself able to believe that someone could care about you that much. And if you wanted to actually…have dinner with that someone.” He lets out a laugh. “Well…Please, consider me. You know where to find me.”

“I have thought about what happened in my office every day for the past five years. You offered to go down on me, and I just…embarrassed myself, and it should be the most mortifying memory I have, but for some reason it’s turned into the axis every fantasy of mine spins around, and”—he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose—“I want to fuck you. Obviously. Always have. I just don’t want to fuck you once. I want to do it a lot. For a long time. I want you to come to me for sex, but I also want you to come to me when you need help with your taxes and moving your furniture. I want fucking to be only one of the million things I do for you, and I want to be—” He stops. Seems to collect himself and straightens, as if to give me space. To give us space. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to crowd you. You can…”