Consumed (3 page)

“Unf.” I grunt as I walk into a hard body. My phone slips from my hands and hits the floor. Thankfully, the screen remains crack free.

“Sorry.” I groan, kneeling down to pick up my phone. I pick it up off the floor and then I freeze. My hand tightens convulsively around the device as I
notice the person standing in front of me is wearing a pair of black drawstring pants. Slowly, my eyes travel up his body.
No, no, no, no.
Please, God let it be anyone but him. My gaze meets his hard, sweaty chest and then flicks up to a pair of dark, chocolate eyes that have little golden rivers of honey that branch throughout them. I swallow hard. He’s inches away from me, standing as still as stone and staring down at me. I feel my knees begin to shake as I peer shyly up at him through my dark lashes.
He extends a long, fingered hand to me and I instantly take it.

“Did I get you wet?” He asks in a voice that is so sinfully deep I immediately get a shiver down my spine. He helps me to my feet, but doesn’t let go of my hand. His skin is hot and my blood simmers as a result. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as a telltale blush springs to my cheeks.

“What?”

“Did I get you wet?” He repeats slower this time, emphasizing each word. “I’m covered in sweat.”

“Oh, right.” I glance down at my dress. There are a few damp patches that are blacker than the rest, but nothing too serious or gross. I don’t even think the word gross can be used in a sentence with this man. “You didn’t get too much on me.”

“What’s your name?” He asks, leaning closer to me.

“Olivia.”

Seth’s mouth molds into a breathtaking smile and I’m unsuccessful at tearing my eyes away from his as he draws my hand to his mouth and softly places his lips on my knuckles. I gasp as he tugs on me, pulling me in close. My free hand flies up and rests against his hard chest in attempt to stop myself from fully pressing against him. Pure, white-hot lust tears through my body and spills over every organ and every bone before settling between my thighs. Our bodies are so close and I stare into his dark eyes completely disarmed and confused. Am I dreaming? I can feel his body heat radiating onto me—entering me. I glance past him and the brunette, his girlfriend, is glowering at us. I take a deep controlled breath before pulling my hand back. If my hand had a mind of its own it’d undoubtedly slap me. He seems amused by the way I regard him and bites back a smile.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, dropping eye contact. “I’m running late for work.”

Damn!
If only I didn’t have work, I’d stay in the gym all day. I step past him and keep my head down as I pass his girlfriend. Behind me, the angry brunette’s voice is rambling about how disrespectful he is being to her and I think I hear him chuckle. Without a glance over my shoulder, I flee from the gym.

Chapter Three

I sit at work typing names and taking calls. I try hard to focus on the tasks at hand, but I can’t stop thinking about Seth or his body. Or his black hair. Or the way his lips felt on my hand. Or his dark eyes. I squeeze my thighs tighter and suddenly, I have an insatiable craving for chocolate and honey. I shake my head. Underneath my strange and abrupt desire for Seth, the stranger at the gym, there’s a guilty feeling swirling around my stomach like I’ve done something wrong. I broke up with Blade last night so technically I’m a single woman...so why do I feel so dirty?

I enjoy working as a receptionist, but I’ve been glancing around the same spacious, sterile waiting room for the last two years and I just can’t seem to find enough motivation to quit here. I hope one day I can actually do something different with my life like become an author or direct movies. I’ve always wanted to be able to tell a story in some way. Writing seems more achievable and if I had a choice, I’d be a famous romance author. There’s just something about a healthy love and a happy ending that inspires me. Of course, my mother doesn’t consider writing an actual career, neither does Blade. “
Writing is a dead end career. You’ll run out of unrealistic stories eventually. Become a therapist or a psychologist, then you’ll always be busy. People have endless problems that they want to discuss all of the time
.” Mom would say. At least she had a point—not that I agree with it. Blade said things like “
People don’t read anymore,” or “It sucks.
” Since when does reading suck? Who says that? If I ran the world, people who didn’t read would be the first to go. Boom. Put them out of their misery.

I put a piece of paper through the shredder and my mind falls back onto Seth Marc. I still feel his hands on my skin and his lips on my knuckles. I’ve never been so captivated by the opposite sex before. I’m a little angry that he so openly flirted with me when is girlfriend was in the same building. That is
not
okay and I hate myself for being weak. I never want to be the girl a guy cheats with because I know what it’s like to be the girl that gets cheated on and it sucks. I can fantasize and perve on him in the gym though, can’t I? I mean, where’s the harm in that? The way he looked at me with that unapologetic stare makes me feel dizzy and I subconsciously squeeze my thighs together. He’s definitely the kind of guy moms warn their daughters about—the kind that breaks hearts and leaves a long line of them behind him. Strangely, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy you can avoid. I imagine he’d be relentless in pursuing what he wants.
Who am I kidding? There’s no way he wants me
. I have an over-active imagination... maybe that’s all it is. I tap my pen in an uneven rhythm on the desk.
But he did pull me into him...

A woman in front of me clears her throat, demanding my attention, but I continue to look through her, imagining all of the sick, sexy things I’d let Seth do to me.

“Excuse me?” She asks. Her tone is thick with snobby attitude.

Her wrinkled, aged face comes into focus and I’m looking at her cherry colored lips that are pursed into an annoyed line. Her white hair sits on the top of her head, like a poodle. Yep, she reminds me of a poodle. I ready my fingers on the worn out keyboard. “Name, please?”

“Miriam Matthews.” I type as she speaks.

I tick her name as attended and tell her to have a seat. With a frustrated exhale, she struts away from me. Her dress is a cherry-red, just like her lips and it’s tight, forcing her gigantic, fake boobs as high as they can possibly go. I wonder if she comes here to discuss her inability to let go of her youth. I smile to myself. Trying to read people without even getting to know them is a habit of mine. I frown. I couldn’t get a full reading on Seth. He was difficult and that bugs me. With the old lady, on the other hand, I think I have a pretty good idea of what she’s all about. I peer over my desk at the woman and judging by the way she sits with her legs tightly crossed as she subconsciously taps her beautiful manicured finger on her equally beautiful diamond watch tells me that she’s impatient. That’s not too surprising considering everyone is busy these days. The rock-hard, lifeless pair of fake tits that protruded from her dress brings me back to my inability to let go of youth point. I glance at her hands. There’s a tan line on her ring finger and I’m going to assume she’s a recent widow to her latest of five husbands. I look at my computer screen and click on her file. Close enough. She’s had three name changes the past two years. I click on ‘John Matthews’ the name that’s linked to her account. A big red ‘DECEASED’ watermark runs across his file. Sometimes, I’m too good at what I do.

“Aren’t you breaching some kind of doctor-slash-patient confidentiality laws?” I jump and switch the monitor off as Selena slides onto my desk.

“Jesus,” I breathe. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Selena laughs and nudges me, drawing a few annoyed scowls from the patients in the waiting room. I press my finger against my lips. “Shoosh, this is my work, remember. What are you doing here?”

She flicks her soft, blonde curls so they drape over her shoulder and leans closer to me. The smell of cigarette on her breath makes me nauseous. Lightly, I shove her backwards. “Your breath smells like smoke. It’s disgusting.”

“Oops,” She reaches for a piece of gum out of a hidden pocket in her bag. “Sorry.” She pops the gum into her mouth, scrunches the wrapper and aims for the bin, missing terribly.

“What are you doing here?” I ask again as she applies minimum lip gloss to her plump lips.

“I thought I’d come check on you. You didn’t answer any of my texts.” She slides out of her beige coat and tucks it underneath her. “I was worried. I half expected to find you dead somewhere.”

“Oh, right.” After literally running into Seth at the gym, I completely forgot to text Selena back. “I switched my phone off last night and then this morning I got a little caught up at Dad’s gym.”

She rolls her eyes. “Boring. Anyway, you really broke up with Blade?”

I nod. “Yep.”

“And there’s no getting back with him?”

“No. Not this time.”

Ignoring the fact that we’re in a quiet place, Selena squeals like a pre-teen who’s just won backstage tickets to a Justin Bieber concert. From her bag she pulls out a mini box of baby sized wine coolers. The patients cringe at her high voice—but a few enjoyed having a slim blonde dancing to no music and slamming back wine. The door closest to my reception desk opens abruptly and Mason Peterson, my boss, storms from his office. His grey suit clings to his fantastically tight body. He’s in good shape for someone who’s as old as he is—early forties, maybe. He has a nice face, too. His hair is a golden color, like baked bread and his eyes are a striking blue. He moved his business to Portland, Maine from Seattle four years ago due to a rocky divorce. Beside me Selena stops dancing and I drop my eyes to my blank screen, moving my fingers across the keyboard, pretending to type.

“What’s going on here, Olivia?” He asks sternly.

Mason is an awesome boss. He lets me get away with a lot of stuff most bosses would fire their employees for and occasionally I abuse it.

“I have no idea who this girl is.” I say. “She must be a patient here.”

I pick up the phone. “Hello, Guyers and Peterson Psychology this is Olivia.”

Mason exhales, placing his hands firmly on his hips. His azure eyes narrow in on me and the disappointment is clear on his face. “Olivia, I’m not an idiot. I know the phone didn’t ring and Selena you’re not allowed to drink in here. How many times do I have to tell you?”

I press my lips tightly together to prevent myself from laughing. It didn’t help any. The laugh I’m holding back ends up coming out of my nose. Damn, Selena. She knows exactly how to turn me back into my old high-school self.

“Come on guys. How many warnings do I have to give you?”

“I’m sorry, Mason.” I apologize, wiping laughter tears from my eyes and smudging my mascara slightly. “I had no idea Selena was coming today. She just showed up.”

“Yeah, okay.” He doesn’t believe me.

“Olivia broke up with Blade last night.”

Wow, so apparently that’s information the whole world should know. I shoot Selena an angry glare and she shrugs it off. Selena has a habit of running her mouth off to people I don’t want knowing my business. Mason is a good boss, but he’s also persistent. I’ve lost count of how many times he has asked me out to dinner.

“It’s about time.” Mason sighs. “That guy was an asshole. How are you holding up?”

I shrug. “Surprisingly well, actually.” I made it out of bed so that’s a start.

“Good.” He pulls his cell phone from his back pocket and dials a number. “Sally? Hi, it’s Mason. Yeah. Can you come in today? Olivia isn’t feeling well. Okay, great. See you soon.”

I gape at him wide eyed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you time to relax. You can come back in two days.”

Selena bounces excitedly, but I cross my arms over my chest. I don’t like people doing favors for me, especially people that will expect things in return. “That’s unnecessary.”

“It’s happening, now get out of here before you cost me anymore clients.”

I reach under my chair, grab my handbag and step away from the desk. I’m not going to complain about a day off. God knows I need one. Selena grabs her coat, hooks her arm around my elbow and pulls me toward the door. I look back at Mason who positions himself behind the desk. He switches on the monitor and John Matthew’s personal file opens right where I left it. Mason shoots me an annoyed glance. I shrug and push through the door before he changes his mind about letting me go.

***

Selena and I pull into a small steakhouse. She fought tooth and nail for Mexican, but I think I made it pretty clear that I never want to eat Mexican again.
Ever
.

We sit by a window that showcases the not-so-beautiful scenery of the car park and the full highway.

“I am so sick of living in this place.” Selena groans, taking in the car park.