Stuck with You (The STEMinist Novellas, #2)

by Ali Hazelwood

It was Erik Nowak, all right. With his massive, colossal presence. Erik Nowak, who spent the entirety of our five-floor ride staring at me with those ruthless, icy blue eyes of his. Erik Nowak, who’s currently looking up at the emergency light with a slight frown.

“Does . . . what?” I glance up, finding him next to the control panel. In the stark shadows of the emergency light he’s still so . . . God. Looking at his handsome face is a mistake. He is a mistake. “I’m sorry, I . . . What did you say?”

Why is he so kind? He was never supposed to be kind. After what happened between us, I decided to torture myself by asking around about him, and the word kind never came up. Not once. One of New York’s top engineers, people would often say. Known for being as good at his job as he is surly. No-nonsense, aloof, standoffish. Though he was never any of these things with me. Until he was, of course.

If I want this kiss to happen I’ll need his cooperation. Or rock-climbing equipment.

“This.” His eyes are on my lips. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere from this.”

“Sadie,” he repeats. “Take them off.”

Gulp

The way he’s been thinking about this all day during meetings, all fucking day.

“I brought you here because I wanted to be with you. I’d have kept on walking around the city till dawn if that was what you wanted. So, here’s the deal: we can spend the night fucking, and I won’t lie, I’d greatly enjoy that, but we could also play Guess Who?, or you could help me give my brother’s cat his flea medication, since it’s a two-, maybe three-person job. Any of the above works.”

“You are a brilliant engineer who knows the Premier League stats of the past three decades off the top of your head. Physically, you are the uncanny combination of every single feature I’ve ever found attractive—no, I will not expand on that. And you saved me on your phone as Corporate Thor, even after I gave you my full name.”

“Yup.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek. “This is it, Sadie. I don’t think there’s any fucking this up.”

“I’ve been thinking about eating you out all day,” he says against my skin, which is sticky and drenched and—I cannot believe this is happening. I cannot believe this is sex. “All. Fucking. Day.”

The foil is golden. Trojan, it says. And underneath: Magnum. Which maybe explains a lot.

IM CRYING

I have a Ph.D. in engineering: if I can build sophisticated machinery, I can figure out how to put on a damn condom.

I CANT BREATHE

I have no clue what the parameters for the magnum size are, but I do get why he needs it.

THIS IS SO UNSERIOUS

Like it’s something he’s been doing every day for his entire life. Like it’s something he plans to do every day for what’s left of it.

“I just think you might be too tall,” I say into his clavicle. “I foresee neck problems for both of us.”

“Mine’s good. You should go on it when . . .” He trails off. Picks up again with, “Have lunch with me today.”

EEEEEEH

“She falls asleep and I watch her and think, This is like nothing else. Scary, almost.

“Fine. Let’s talk about how you used me to steal clients from GreenFrame.”

“Fuck.” It’s my turn to be confused. “What?” “Fuck.” “What . . . Why are you doing that?”

Im crying

“Why?” “Because I wanted to read it.” “But . . . why?” He looks at me like I’m a bit slow. “Because you wrote it.”

I stare at him, stupefied. This is . . . He’s not supposed to be saying any of this. He’s supposed to . . . I don’t know. Double down. Defend his own shitty actions. Make me loathe him even more.

And when I came upstairs to talk to you, Gianna said that she was sure you didn’t want to see me. And I like to think that I’m not the kind of asshole who would keep calling a woman who asked him not to, so I stopped. But I also wasn’t exactly able to quit thinking about you, which had me desperately looking for the reason you pulled back, to the point that I’ve been replaying what happened between us that night every day—every . . . single . . . day—for the past three weeks.”

“And I’ve been scared, scared like never before, that I’d hurt you.” He lifts his hand. Curves it around my cheek. “That I’d left you in some—any kind of pain. That I couldn’t make amends. Which, let me tell you, is no fun when you know in your lizard brain that you’re about five minutes from falling in love with someone.” He closes his eyes. “Maybe past. Can’t really tell.”