So Into You Read online

  So Into You

  By J.D. Walker

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2018 J.D. Walker

  ISBN 9781634866408

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  So Into You

  By J.D. Walker

  So, there’s this guy. You know the type—friendly, hot, older. Frankly, I’m obsessed.

  I mean, it’s not like I sit here all day, at my desk, staring at his tight-looking ass while he bends over to pick up a pen, or walks down the hall to the copier room in those jeans that seem to only further accentuate his fabulous glutes. Because I shouldn’t do that, right? It’s creepy.

  And yet…

  We both worked for a financial services firm, and our floor had an open-space plan. His desk was directly across from mine on the other side of the room, and his back was to me most of the day as he typed on his keyboard, or spoke to clients on the phone. His dark brown skin looked delicious, and those veiny forearms gleamed in the overhead lights when he rolled up his shirt sleeves. His eyes reminded me of caramel, and the dimple in his chin just begged me to lick it. With that kind of eye-candy setup, how could I help myself? Perhaps I could blame HR. They’d hired him, after all.

  Anyway, Marc Temple was a senior analyst, and I was a newly minted MBA with aspirations to being as good as he was. I didn’t work with him directly, though assignments were passed down from him to me through my immediate supervisor, John.

  I had been here for almost eight weeks and appreciated the open-minded, casual environment, the collaboration and learning opportunities, as well as the active grapevine. I learned that Marc had dated the CEO, Fran Massey, but then she had fallen in love with someone else and they’d broken up, and were still friends. He had also dated the ex-IT director, Jason, who he’d found out last year had tried to sabotage the firm’s security for reasons I still didn’t understand. All this had happened in the last five years, and apparently, Marc was now single and not dating, as far as anyone knew.

  He was forty-five to my thirty-three—yes, I had waited a few years to do my graduate degree. Aside from work interests, what on earth did we have in common? And why did it hit me so hard to see him smile and laugh, and wish those expressions of joy were directed at me? It had been only two months, but I was hopelessly in lust, dreaming about the impossible.

  * * * *

  “Llew, are you ready to go?”

  Hans, currently in my living room and yelling at me to hurry up, had been badgering me for the past month to go clubbing. It was more his scene than mine, but he was a friend, and I had few of those. Since I was typically buried in work and barely went anywhere aside from bed to the office, maybe I owed him this evening. It was a Friday night, after all, and I already dreaded the pain relievers I would need to take when I got back home at ridiculous o’clock in the morning.

  “I’m coming. Just chill, man,” I replied as I tucked my navy-blue shirt—there was a bleach stain at the hem, damn it—into khaki pants and closed the belt. My blond hair was cut close to the scalp like Eminem, because I hated the idea of gel, or a comb, or any fuss. I wanted to roll out of bed, shower, dress, brush, and go.

  I stepped into brown loafers and headed for the kitchen. “Is that what you’re wearing?” Hans asked, his tenor voice broadcasting offense at my attire. Naturally, he was dressed in tight pants that squeezed his crotch enough to make me wince, and a snug long-sleeved shirt that was a stretchy material of some kind and showed off his toned, six-foot build. He wore glitter in his black hair, too.

  Shrugging, I walked to the tiny kitchen and grabbed my wallet and phone from the small folding table. “There’s more to life than the kind of clothes I wear, you know?” I replied as I turned off all the lights except the one in the narrow hallway. Tonight was going to be a trial.

  “It can’t be that hard to find something that doesn’t loudly broadcast you’re a finance geek. Couldn’t you at least put on a T-shirt or a pair of jeans?” He shook his head as he preceded me out the door. “Honestly.” It was an old issue, one we’d been arguing over since we met in grad school.

  Hans had been the outgoing, assertive, challenge-all-the-answers student, while I’d quietly worked my way to a Master’s degree. My sense of style had been offensive even then, compared to the always fashionably dressed Hans, but we had gotten along, otherwise.

  “When I pay off my student loans, then I’ll reconsider. Until then, I’ll shop at Ross or Value Village to get what I need. All my jeans are dirty. Deal.”

  Muttering to himself about “clueless men” and “where was Queer Eye when you needed them,” Hans led the way to his newer model SUV and unlocked it. “It’s a good thing your brown eyes are pretty, or there’d be no hope for you at all.” As he got into the car, he added, “You’d better at least get on the dance floor, Llewellyn Dane. It’s bad enough I have to be seen in public with you.”

  I rolled my eyes as I got in and fastened the seatbelt. “It’s never stopped you before. And you want to dance with me only because I make you look good.”

  “True. Still, when was the last time you got laid, dressed like that?” Hans asked, words dripping sarcasm as he merged into traffic. Why was he my friend again?

  “I don’t remember. Probably in school.” I had always been focused on my studies. I was also a little bit disheveled, apparently, as I had been told by a few men—and Hans. “You have so much potential, if only you would…” Insert their unwanted suggestions here.

  I didn’t see what was so wrong with just being myself. I was comfortable as me. If I ever tried to play dress up, I knew I would fall flat on my face. Any man interested in me would have to take me as I was, and that was asking a lot, I had found. Now, I just worked, wished, and watched.

  Hans had never lacked for conquests, even in grad school. Somehow, he had graduated top of the class, with me close behind, while sleeping with any available male body—professors included. I was sure that after we arrived at the club, and had our obligatory dance, he would disappear and I’d have to find my own way home. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  As Hans chattered on about his day and the threesome he had slept with two nights ago—ever adventurous was he—my thoughts went where they always did.

  Marc was a genuinely nice guy, from what I had seen. When we crossed paths at work, he was friendly and always smiled in greeting, and asked about my well-being. He did that with everyone, so I wasn’t special. But still, it warmed me inside.

  I knew he worked late hours because I was there, too, doing the same, along with the rest of us. But he never seemed r
eally stressed about it, just got shit done and moved on. How on earth could I ever get a guy like that to—

  “Are you jonesing over your dream guy, again?” Hans asked, cutting into my thoughts as we parked a block from the club he preferred. I hadn’t even realized we’d arrived.

  “Your point?” I replied, not wanting to hear anymore advice from him because his solution wasn’t my cup of tea. Hans wanted me to proposition Marc and get it over with already. Seriously? As if sex was all I wanted, though that was a good place to start, I could admit. Talk about setting myself up for rejection and awkwardness in a workplace that I really, really liked.

  Hans paid our entrance fee, because it was the least he could do, and a wall of sound hit me as the door opened. I had the beginnings of a headache already.

  “Come on!” Hans shouted in my ear, yanking my arm as he pulled me through the writhing, sweaty mob to the center of the dark, thumping dance floor.

  Dancing was something I was good at, though I didn’t do it often anymore. I had been on a dance team in high school and college, but that had fallen by the wayside when life became serious. Now, Hans and I moved to the beat, as obnoxious as it was, and we bumped and jumped and got cheers from the crowd. Whenever I danced, it was like a magic coat fell over me and everybody loved me. I lost myself to the rhythm and forgot about my worries for a little while. I’d forgotten how it felt.

  Once a few songs had passed, I retired to the bar and left Hans to get mauled by his potential sex-bait for the night. No one approached me, probably because I was just plain ordinary without the vibrant Hans or music to back me up. What did I know, though? Maybe I was clueless and men were trying to catch my eye, which I kept glued to the bar top. Right.

  I drank two beers over a couple of hours, and when my temples started throbbing along with the music, I sent a text to Hans—he was probably lost in the crowd or a bathroom stall somewhere—and left.

  It took me an hour to get back to my apartment, and I was exhausted as I stumbled up the steps to my second-floor unit. I barely made it through the door before collapsing on the old, ragged couch, much too tired to get water and Advil. I was out almost before my eyes closed.

  * * * *

  I awoke to the sound of my ringtone. After wiping the drool from my mouth with a wrinkled sleeve, I sat up carefully, dragged the cell phone out of my pocket, and answered it.

  “Hello?” My voice sounded gravelly and I really needed to brush my teeth.

  “Llewellyn? This is Marc Temple. From work.” Holy fuck! When I didn’t answer right away—you can imagine my shock—he continued, “Are you there?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. Uh, Marc. Sorry.” I rubbed my face as I tried to get my brain to work and the idiocy out of my mouth.

  “I apologize for calling so early, and on a weekend, but John’s wife went in labor and he’s at the hospital with her right now. I need help with a project and I know you were working with him on some of the numbers this past week. Can you come in today, in about an hour? I need to get this done and off to the client by Monday morning and could use the help.”

  “Sure thing. Happy to do it. Anything you need, uh. Yeah, okay. See you in a bit.” I hung up before I made a further ass of myself. Could I have sounded more desperate? I would have sworn I’d heard Marc chuckle before I ended the call, though.

  I stretched and twisted my back side to side so it would pop. God, I knew better than to sleep on this damned piece of shit. I’d gotten the couch at a yard sale on the cheap, so I shouldn’t complain. But I did. Damn those student loans!

  Glancing at my phone, I saw it was a little after seven on a Saturday morning, and there were texts from Hans, which basically boiled down to “epic lay!” No need to respond.

  I got up and took a quick shower, then dressed in a slightly crumpled white shirt, and black slacks, along with faded gray Converse that had seen better days, before making coffee and grabbing a couple breakfast bars to take with me to work.

  Forty-five minutes later, I walked into the office and saw Marc sitting in the conference room, head buried in paperwork. I knocked on the doorframe to get his attention.

  “Hey, Marc,” I said in greeting, and he looked up at me, a little startled.

  “Oh, hey. Sorry, I’ve been sitting here for a couple of hours.” He leaned back in the black leather chair and rubbed his eyes. Nope, didn’t notice his chest. “You know you didn’t have to dress up, right?”

  Marc stared at me, and I fidgeted a little, not knowing how to respond. It hadn’t occurred to me to dress differently. And anyway, my casual clothes were dirty. He let me off the hook, however, and added, “I appreciate you coming in. I tried the other junior analysts, but you were the only one available.” And didn’t that not make me feel special?

  Hopefully my facial expression didn’t give away my disappointment, because what the hell else had I been expecting?

  “Take a seat,” Marc said, gesturing to a chair. “I’ll explain what I need you to do and we’ll get started.”

  “Sure,” I replied, and told myself not to be distracted by his short-sleeved red T-shirt, which bared more of his muscular arms. Yum. Did he have to smell like cinnamon and vanilla?

  I focused as best I could as we got down to work, discussing and arguing over the numbers and findings for the next several hours. Despite the complexity of the project, I was enjoying myself. I felt like I was contributing something, and it helped that I was working right alongside Marc.

  “Llewellyn.”

  I looked up at him and blinked. “Huh?”

  Marc smiled and took the pen out of my hand. “Take a break, dude. We’re ahead of schedule, and I’m hungry.”

  “Oh.” I had become so involved, I didn’t even realize I hadn’t eaten since arriving that morning. “Okay. Well, you go ahead. I’ve got some breakfast bars to tide me over.”

  Marc shook his head. “Come on, now. You need to eat more than that, build up your energy. My treat?” And his smile sealed the deal.

  “Well, if you insist.”

  He laughed and closed his laptop. “Come on. We can get pizza around the corner.” I followed him out of the office and into the elevator, keeping my eyes above waist level, for once. “You ever eat there?”

  “No, but I’ve passed by that place a lot.” I couldn’t admit to Marc that I saved all my money to pay off my loans and ate out rarely. How much of a dud would that make me look?

  “It’s good. You’ll like it. They even have gluten-free offerings, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t have a preference. Food is food, especially when it’s free.” I grinned and he laughed.

  “I bet.” He slapped me on the back as we left the elevator and waved to the security guard on our way out. This could be a nightmare, or fodder for late-night fantasies. I was game either way.

  * * * *

  “You like it, at the company?” Marc asked as we shared a Hawaiian pizza. A piece of cheese dangled from his lower lip and tempted me greatly before he wiped it away. Shame.

  “I do.” I took a sip of Coke and bit into a cheesy breadstick. I was crap at small talk, another one of those strikes against me.

  “Happy to hear it,” he said. “I know you’ve worked mainly with John, but he has only good things to say about your potential, and I agree.”

  “Thanks” was all I could come up with, because I hadn’t expected to hear that from him, or anyone else at the company, so soon.

  He smiled. “You don’t say much, do you, unless you’re arguing a point?”

  I could feel my skin heat. “I guess not,” I replied, and hoped Marc would drop it, because if he pressed, any chance of impressing him, aside from my work ethic, would fly out the window. And I kept forgetting that I shouldn’t even be going down that road.

  “I’m sure there’s more to you than just work, considering that all the other analysts I called came up with really flimsy excuses for not being here, if they even answered at all
. You didn’t even hesitate. Don’t get me wrong,” he added, before taking another bite of pizza and chewing. “We have good people, but many of them only work enough to make the grade. Rarely do they go the extra mile.”

  I didn’t know why he was telling me this, but I listened all the same. “You, on the other hand,” he continued, “seem to live for this kind of stuff. Like I do.”

  Nodding, I said, “I like figuring things out, making sense of data.”

  We ate in companionable silence for the rest of our meal, then, while we finished our drinks, Marc leaned back in his chair and asked, “What do you do for fun?”

  Here we go. “I’m pretty focused on my work and don’t do much outside of that. Uh, every once in a while, my friend Hans will force me to go clubbing, but I usually don’t last long and end up going home alone, with a headache.”

  “Student loans, right?”

  How did he know? “Yeah. I want to pay those off as soon as I can. Then I’ll consider having a life.”

  Marc laughed. “While I applaud your goal, doesn’t it get a little lonely?”

  Ah geez. “It doesn’t bother me,” I lied, and finished the rest of my soda before standing. “Thanks for the food. I’m going to the little boy’s room. Back in a sec.”

  Yup, my tail was between my legs, but I had to get away and catch my breath. Did he have to ask those questions? Now, I looked like a loser whose only saving grace was “work ethic.” Jesus.

  I washed my face and calmed down as best I could before heading back to our table. Marc was no longer there. I spotted him on the other side of the eatery, talking to someone. Not wanting to intrude, I got his attention and mimed that I was leaving and he nodded before going back to his conversation. I felt dismissed, but there was no reason for that, was there? It was illogical, but there it was.

  * * * *

  We spent the rest of our afternoon finishing up the work Marc had wanted to accomplish for the day, and around nine in the evening, we were done.

  “I really appreciate your help today, Llewellyn. I should be able to do the rest and have it finished long before the deadline on Monday.”