Falling for My Enemy (Dirty Martini Running Club, #2)

by Claire Kingsley

My brain kept circling around the fact that I had to go to this conference with her. Why did it seem like the universe was conspiring to throw us together? I couldn’t avoid her. Certainly not at work. And even in my off hours, I found myself thinking about her. This was some nerd-level obsessiveness, and I needed to make it stop.

Tendrils of heat snaked their way through my chest while I spoke. Who the fuck had made Hazel blush?

Grinding my teeth together, I kept my gaze lowered. If she looked into my eyes right now, I didn’t know what she’d see, but I knew I didn’t want to have to explain it. How could I, when I didn’t understand it myself? A man she’d met this weekend was texting her. Why did that make me so fucking angry? I wanted to reach through her phone, grab this asshole by the throat, and tell him to stay the fuck away from her. He wasn’t getting her or her cinnamon rolls.

“Um, Hazel?” “Yes?” He cleared his throat. I took my copies off the paper tray and tucked them into a folder. “What?” “Your, um… buttons.” I looked at him first, before his words registered. His eyes flicked down to my chest and suddenly everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. His tongue did a tantalizing dance across his lower lip, drawing it into his mouth. Then he caught it with his teeth in a bite that sent a very unexpected rush of heat straight between my legs. Suppressing a gasp, I clenched my thighs. And then I realized what he’d just said. My buttons. I glanced down and sure enough, not just one, but two of my shirt buttons had popped open while I’d been gathering my papers off the floor.

He inched toward me, adjusting his glasses. The whirlpool sensation in my belly left me feeling light-headed and tingly. I was well aware that my shirt was still open and I wasn’t making any attempt to fix it. But the closer he got, the harder my heart beat, and the more the pressure between my legs begged me to do something about it. Something crazy. Something reckless. Something so ill-advised I was angry at myself for even thinking it. Angry at him for making me think it.

“You think you can distract me with your… gifts.” I glanced at the bulge in his pants again. “But it won’t work.” “You’re the one trying to distract me with… all this.” His eyes flicked down. “It’s very unfair.” He moved closer, so close we were almost touching, and my body tensed with anticipation. “I don’t like you,” I whispered. “Good. I don’t like you either.” His mouth crashed into mine, his lips firm. I grabbed his shirt and yanked him against me, meeting his angry kiss with my own.

He shoved his thigh between my legs, forcing them apart. My skirt rode up and I moaned into his mouth at the sudden pressure against my clit. Do not dry hump his leg, Hazel. Do not. Obviously I did.

Wait, helping me? He wanted me to come. He wanted to give me an orgasm, right here. Fully clothed. Using his leg. Oh no. I was not going to be a good, cooperative girl. Not for Corban Nash.

“I still don’t like you,” I said, my voice breathy. “Me neither,” he growled. Fisting his hand in the back of my hair, he tilted my head to the side. Scraped his teeth down my neck. “But I’m going to make you come anyway.” “No you’re not.” Yes, please make me come, Corban. Please.

“Yes, I am. Tell me you want it, Hazel.” Shuddering, I moaned. We couldn’t. We were at work. And I couldn’t give in. Not to him. But it was late. We were alone. And this felt so good. “Say it.” His fist tightened in my hair and he sucked on my neck. “I have to hear you say yes.” I did want it. I wanted it more than I wanted to be right. More than I wanted to win. “Yes.”

“One time, Hazel,” he growled, driving deep. “You get my cock once.” “I won’t want it again.” That was a lie, and I knew it already. But there was no way I was admitting it.

If he didn’t make me come, I was going to kill him. “You better warn me before you finish.” He thrust harder. “You’re coming first.”

He pulled out and paused with just the tip inside. I whipped my head around to look at him over my shoulder. He was still braced over me, his face close. “Don’t you fucking dare.” His body shuddered. “Oh my god, did you just say fucking?” I arched my back, desperate for more. “So?” “So? God, I hate how hot you are.” He thrust back in. “I hate that your cock feels good.” “I hate that you make me hard every time I fucking see you.”

His hand slid down around the top of my thigh, his fingers finding my clit, and I almost died. I could no longer separate anything I was feeling. Lust. Anger. Desire. The hot swirl of pressure built as his fingers rubbed tight circles over my clit. It was perfect. How did he know? No, really. How did he know

I threw my head back as my entire body convulsed with the breathtaking power of my orgasm. My pussy clenched around his cock, squeezing hard, pulsing with the waves of climax. Finally. Oh thank god, finally

What had come over me? I hadn’t even needed to go to the copy room. But I’d swear it until the day I died, she’d been releasing a massive quantity of intoxicating pheromones. I’d been as helpless as a worker bee, obeying the commands of his queen. Until I’d taken charge.

And I’d been achingly aware of every detail. The way she felt, her wet pussy surrounding me. Her scent and the heat of her body. The open door behind us and how I was going to hide her if someone approached. I’d been in charge, in command of the whole situation. And I’d fucked her like an animal. I didn’t want to think about how much I’d liked it. No—loved it.

Most of the time it was cool to be around them. These guys were happily married and raising families. They didn’t bitch about their wives or complain about the responsibilities of having kids. They clearly loved their families—loved being husbands and fathers. It gave me hope that this was possible. Maybe even for a guy like me.

“How long have you been fucking her?” he asked, his tone nonchalant. “Dude,” Alex said. Weston raised his eyebrows, but otherwise his expression didn’t change. “What?” “Why do you assume he’s sleeping with her?” Caleb asked. “He said they don’t get along.” “Doesn’t mean they’re not fucking,” Weston said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and we were idiots for not realizing it. All eyes swung to me. “Just the one time. Last night.” Weston gestured toward me. “See?”

“And now you want to fuck her again, but you also basically hate her,” Weston said. I rubbed the back of my neck. “No, not… sort of? I don’t know.” “Just fuck her again,” Weston said and held out his hands, ready for a pass. “Are we playing, or not?”

“You don’t hate her,” a low voice said next to me. I glanced over at Weston. “What?” “You don’t hate her, or you wouldn’t give a shit about any of this.” As much as I wanted to say I hated Hazel, he was right. I didn’t. I didn’t know what I felt for her. But it wasn’t hatred. It was a lot more complicated than that. “Yeah, maybe.” He eyed me for a second, like he wasn’t sure if he was going to bother continuing the conversation. “If it had been some other woman’s shirt popping open, would you have fucked her?” “No,” I said with a lot more vehemence than I expected. “Didn’t think so. That’s your problem.” “What?” “You care. Sex isn’t meaningless if you care. So that means it wasn’t.” “Wasn’t meaningless?” “Nope. She’s under your skin. Maybe she does drive you crazy, but that’s because you care about her, and you care what she thinks of you.” This was the most Weston had ever spoken to me. And he was hitting too close to the truth for comfort. “So what am I supposed to do?” “Fuck if I know.” He took a long drink from his water bottle. “Caleb’s right, no one should listen to me for relationship advice.” I rolled my eyes. So he was just bullshitting me. “Great, thanks.” “There is one thing I do know.” “What’s that?” “If she has the power to fuck up your insides this much, you only have two choices.” “Yeah?” “Get as far away from her as you can so you never have to see her again.” My gut churned at the thought. “Or?” “Marry her.”

Hated weston for like 3 secs now hes ok with me boy is smart

“Relationships are the most transformational space, whether it’s with your children, your parents, or your loved ones, because you can’t control the other person.”

I’d spent the rest of my day baking. I needed something—anything—to take my mind off last night. Off Corban and his superhuman ability to drag an orgasm out of my previously stubborn body.

Nora started making another gin and tonic. “Have a seat, Soph. I know Everly isn’t here, but I have her blessing. I think it’s time we extend the circle of trust.” Sophie slowly lowered herself into the armchair next to the couch. “Circle of trust?” I knew, without reservation, that Nora was right. Everly, Nora, and I had been a tight-knit group for years, and the circle of trust was the cornerstone of our friendship. Sophie fit in with us like a puzzle piece we hadn’t realized was missing. “I agree.” I put my drink down and extended my arms to clasp each of their hands, forming a circle. “The circle of trust is sacred,” Nora said. “What we share in the circle stays in the circle.” “And it’s a no judgment space,” I added. “Mostly,” Nora said. “If one of us is being an idiot, I’m going to be honest about it. And I expect you all to do the same for me.” “Fair point.” Sophie held our hands and nibbled on her bottom lip. “I don’t know what to say. This feels like such an important moment.” “It is.” Nora squeezed, then let go. She dropped a slice of lime into Sophie’s drink and handed it to her. “Okay, Hazel. Circle of trust. Tell us everything.”

“Oh my god.” Nora fanned herself. “He just bent you over the table and took you. That’s so hot.” Sophie grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled on it as if trying to create a breeze. “Ten out of ten, Corban.

“Here’s what you’re going to do. Own it. Don’t walk by his office and look away, hoping you don’t make eye contact.” “Are you sure? Because that’s what I’d like to do.” “Nope. Own your sexuality. You did something you wanted to do, you enjoyed it while it lasted, and there’s absolutely no shame in that.” “I agree,” Sophie said. “If you pretend it didn’t happen, it’ll only make things worse.”

Fine. I didn’t care that I’d said she only got my cock once. Now I just wanted to fight with her, even if it meant fighting over doing it again. Plus, fuck it. I really, really wanted to do it again.

Meeting my gaze, Hazel smiled. Her lips curved and her eyes brightened. It was the first time she’d ever really, truly smiled at me, and it hit me like a blow to the chest. I was so fucked.

“Got it.” He grinned again. “When we finish, do I get a cookie?” “Yes, if—” I stopped because the look in his eyes made me wonder if he meant one of the chocolate chip cookies I’d baked, or something else entirely. Was cookie a euphemism? Was he thinking about sex? I was thinking about sex. Sex with him. Flustered, I shoved the stack of paperwork at his chest. “Cookie. Yes. If there are any left.”

I had an overpowering—and very strange—urge to march over there and attach myself to him like a koala. Tuck myself beneath his arm and kiss his neck. Show them they were wasting their time with their coy smiles and suggestive body language. He was mine. Except he wasn’t.

“I suppose I owe you a cookie.” “You absolutely owe me a cookie. Maybe even more than one. To make up for the fact that you ran out.” “Do I? It’s not my fault college students have an insatiable cookie appetite. I thought I’d be bringing leftovers home.” “You should have known better. And those kids have nothing on my appetite.” His appetite for what? Were we still talking about cookies?

But the worst thing I’d done—the thing that had her glaring daggers at me in the airport this morning while we’d been waiting for our flight—was to ignore the batch of brownies she’d brought into work yesterday.

Why was everything I felt around her so strong? She didn’t just make me mad, she made me furious. I wasn’t just attracted to her, I was obsessed with her. There was no in-between. Either she was smiling at me and I wanted to kiss her, or she was glaring at me and I wanted to bury her. Or fuck the fight out of her. That last one especially.

My arm accidentally brushed hers and the unexpected contact was like a lightning strike. “Otters hold hands when they sleep,” I blurted out. “And sometimes they form otter rafts of up to a hundred individuals. Sleeping in the water provides protection from predators, but they hold onto each other so they don’t drift apart.” The attendant blinked at me, her brow furrowed with confusion.

I got up, left my room, and went straight to hers. Lifted my hand to knock. The door opened before my fist could connect. Hazel held the door, her eyes widening. My first thought was to wonder where she was going. Until I saw her buttons. Those fucking buttons. Her shirt was partially open, the tops of her tits and part of a nude lace bra showing. My mouth turned up in a predatory grin. Fuck. Yes. She grabbed my shirt and hauled me inside.

“Books are finite, sexual encounters are finite, but the desire to read and to fuck is infinite.” ~ Roberto Bolaño

Plus, she was coming first. Making Hazel come the first time had felt like the ultimate win. No matter what we argued about or how often we picked at each other, I’d made her come apart. That had been me. I’d sent those pulsing tremors through her, brought her to the height of pleasure and felt her explode. And I was going to do it again.

“Don’t stop.” Her tongue slid across mine and she nipped at my lip. “Don’t fucking stop.” A curse word coming out of Hazel’s mouth was the hottest thing I’d ever heard. This wasn’t the straight-spined, buttoned-up scientist I sparred with at work. This woman was a sex goddess. “You want me to fuck you all day, sweetheart, I’ll fuck you all day.” “I hate that you’re so good at this.” But her eyes closed and her lips curled in a smile. I made her smile. My cock was making her smile. God, I loved that.

After a moment, I glanced around the room—not that anyone was around to see—and scooted closer. Closer. A little bit closer. Until I was right up against his back and could feel him breathing. Just a precaution in case his condition turned significantly worse, of course. Not because my body craved closeness with his.

A train of thought took off, the idea racing through my brain. A dangerous idea. A terrible idea. An irresistible idea. Once the thought hit my frontal lobe, I couldn’t get it out. So I just said it. “Do you want to do my questionnaire together?”

I’d done this before. I knew these questions inside and out. But answering them, especially the early ones, had never felt like this. It was like walking into a maze I’d thought I’d solved—the route to the exit memorized—and realizing all the walls had moved. But it was too late to go back now. Wherever this led, I was committed.

“No, it’s not. Now that I’m back in Seattle, I’d like the security of knowing I can stay. Especially since Molly’s having a baby.” I tried to covertly chew on the inside of my lip so he wouldn’t see me react. That statement had absolutely not hit me right in the ovaries. That was a lie. It really had.

Before beginning, I’d understood the logic of the questionnaire in an academic sense. But I hadn’t realized how it would feel to experience it. Especially how it would feel to experience it with Corban. The thought-provoking questions drew out answers from deep inside. His responses fed my openness, as if my subconscious sensed his vulnerability and sought to match it. It was like spinning down a whirlpool. The more questions we answered, the more we shared. The more we shared, the deeper our responses became. The deeper our responses became, the easier it was to continue, and the more I felt something very unexpected. Connection. Understanding. Familiarity.

For half a second, I was disoriented. Where was I? This wasn’t the staff lounge. I’d walked straight to the copy room. What was it with this place? This was the second time I’d wandered over here without meaning to. And once again, Hazel stood in front of the copy machine. Pheromones, man. Motherfucking pheromones.

The temptation to kiss her was too much to resist. I craved her like a drug, and she was right here, only inches away. Stepping closer, I put my arms around her and hauled her against me. Pressed my lips to hers and teased my tongue into her mouth. She was stiff at first, drawing in a quick breath, her spine straight. But a second later her body softened. Her lips parted and her tongue met mine, sending a jolt of fire through my veins. I loved making her relent like this. Melting her hot librarian exterior.

She smiled, then turned around and walked away, leaving me with an unavoidable realization. I liked Hazel. A lot. This wasn’t hate-lust anymore. I didn’t hate her at all. Teasing her hadn’t been the same as arguing. I wasn’t fuming at her, and yet I could have easily bent her over that table again. I still wanted her. And it had nothing to do with being enemies. I didn’t know what I was going to do with that.

Something on his desk caught my attention. Off to the side, almost hidden, was the penguin figurine I’d left to tease him. It sat next to another one of similar size. “I knew you liked penguins.” I pointed to the pair. His sheepish grin and little shrug sent a pleasant tingling through my stomach. “Busted. They are my favorite animal.” “Why?” He picked up the two penguins. “They mate for life. Some species do, at least. They pick a partner and stick with them, year after year.”

“Their ability to find their mate in a sea of other penguins is rather heartwarming,” I said. “As is their dedication to protecting their egg together.” “Yeah, exactly. It sounds cheesy, but I’ve always wanted to find my penguin.” My heart fluttered and if I’d have been standing my knees would have gone weak. Which was so strange. Thankfully, he continued, preventing me from saying something ridiculous like I’ll be your penguin, Corban

“That’s Erwin,” Hazel said from the kitchen entrance. I chuckled. “Erwin. I get it. Erwin Schrodinger. Schrodinger’s cat. That’s funny.” “It is funny. But no one ever gets the joke.”

Brownies. She’d made brownies. I’d refused to eat her brownies that day at work. And she’d made them for me again. I didn’t know why that hit me in the chest the way that it did, but I set the dishes on the counter, grabbed her by the waist and spun her around.