15. Loren
15
LOREN
“ O h, my God.”
Tom turned and immediately left. He came in to grab papers and saw me, saw Matt, like this.
It was an incriminating position to be caught in. Seated on the edge of the table, the same conference table that we had been working at for so long. My legs were splayed wide, giving my boss all the access he could’ve needed or wanted to lap at my pussy like it was the most delicious dessert in the universe.
He hadn’t rolled his chair back. His hands hadn’t left the spot on my ass where he clutched me so tight and held on like he wanted to keep my ass in his grip forever. Possessive and needy. After all those weeks of resisting each other, all that time of acting like we couldn’t stand the sight of each other, he’d fallen to want me close, close enough for him to feast on.
I looked terrible. There was not a chance in hell that Matt flipping my skirt down could’ve changed a thing. Tom didn’t see anything private on me, but he certainly walked in on a private moment I should have never tried to have with our boss.
Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. Fucking shit!
A litany of profanity rolled through my mind as I shoved at Matt’s shoulders to get him to back up. The wheels on his chair spun, and as he retreated, putting his feet down to halt his backward roll, he reached out to me to reclaim his hold on my butt.
“No.” I shook my head, frantic to climb off the table. The chill of the air on my bare ass and pussy made me shiver, but even that couldn’t slow me down. I scrambled to the side before he could touch me again or try to insist that I don’t run away.
Because that was all I could do. Adrenaline spiked hard and fast, and I reacted with the debate of fight or flight. I couldn’t fight him, not when I’d initiated that first kiss and when I’d wanted this playful, sexy moment with him. I couldn’t even fight myself where my desire for him was concerned.
That left flight. I was running out of the room before I could fully comprehend how much deep trouble I was in. I didn’t think. I wasn’t sure I was even feeling anything. On autopilot, numb beyond the stark shock, I bolted out of the room and hurried toward my office to get my purse.
The hallways passed in a blur, and it wasn’t until I was out on the street, breathing in the humid, slightly stinky air from pollution and garbage, that I sucked in a deep inhale. It didn’t quell the panic that set my heart racing. It didn’t soothe me or start to show me how I didn’t need to freak out. But it gave me the steadying cue to keep going. To get further from the Richards building. Away from the man I shouldn’t have let kiss me or suck my clit like a sex god.
Tom caught us, or he more or less had. Nothing could stop him from going to HR, to that nice man named John. He had no obstacles in front of him preventing him from telling everyone in the office.
I could be fired. I could be ruined. My first big job, and that was how I was going to blow it?
I cringed as I headed down the sidewalk, angry and in disbelief that I could’ve done something so epically stupid like this. Even if the company could be lax and understanding about employees fraternizing with each other, they didn’t want them to engage in anything intimate, forbidden, or sexual while they were on the clock. Much less choosing the conference table as the site where they’d do that.
“Fuck,” I said again as I reached my street. I couldn’t turn off the litany of panicky and furious thoughts.
Humiliation made my cheeks flame up with too much heat. My breaths came short and shallow with my inability to calm down.
There was no way to know whether Tom would tattle. And worse, there was no way to guess what could follow. What would Matt think now? What would he do now?
Too many unknowns clashed in my mind, and it was with a wince that I looked down at my ringing phone. I tugged it further out of my purse so I could see the screen fully, half expecting it to be Matt—to say who the hell knew what. Or Tom—to berate me and accuse me of being a player or manipulator to turn him down but clearly pursue something with Matt.
Instead, it was my parents’ landline, and I warred with the indecision about what to do. Answer? Let it go to voicemail?
I blocked Becca’s number weeks ago, but I kept my parents’ home line in my contact list because I had to maintain some sense of contact with them. Despite how little they cared about me, never bothering to get the basic information like exactly where I was working and living, they were my parents. I had to be reachable in case of bad news or updates about health problems that could arise.
What if someone is in the hospital? What if something bad happened? They were family.
I felt like my worrywart nature was off-kilter, disturbed and worsened because of the shock of being caught with Matt.
I answered, though, my breath and voice shaky as I climbed the stairs to my apartment. I’d reached my building, and once again, I found that the elevator was out. Because of course it would be.
“Hello?”
“Oh, so the slut living it up in the city can answer her phone,” Becca taunted. It was a greeting I didn’t want to hear right now, and it was her voice that I never wanted to suffer through again.
“What’d you do, block my number?” she snapped when I didn’t speak.
“Yes. I did.”
“What a pathetic move.” She huffed. “Do you think you’re too good for your family now?”
“Why would I care to stay in touch with you? Why would I want to keep getting your calls? You, Mom, and Dad have spent years drilling it into my head that I’ll never measure up or be good enough.”
“We have not. You’re too sensitive.”
“Oh,” I spat as I got to my door, out of breath and panting as I fitted my key into the lock. “We’re on to the phase of gaslighting already? So soon?”
“You are too sensitive,” she argued. “You always have been, assuming the whole world is out to get you.”
“No. It’s just you. It’s just you , Becca. You’ve always been out to get me. Always there to nag and scold and tease and taunt. Always!”
“You’re—”
“I’m not in the mood to speak with you or hear your bullshit,” I told her as I entered my apartment, then shut and locked the door behind me. Talking back to her like this gave me a rush. My people-pleasing skills—or flaws—were likely due to her and our parents. A lifetime of Becca telling me that I’d never be good enough and bragging that she was better, then my parents always comparing me to her, had set me up to constantly seek their approval. Basically telling her to fuck off was the opposite of all that was ingrained in me.
It felt good.
But at the same time, it threw me off. My heart, already so fast from being caught with Matt, pattered so fast now. Another hit of adrenaline came, but this time, faced with a threat in the form of my sister calling to bother me, I chose to beat her back. Fight, not flight.
I could run from Matt and the office, but I refused to cower to my sibling.
My stomach twisted with more cramps and nausea, sending me to rock back against the wall. The urge to puke built up, and I slapped my hand over my mouth. That burning sensation crept higher and higher, and I closed my eyes tight to stem off the urgency.
In my ear, Becca ranted on and on. All her negativity rolled without pause. Her telling me that I was a slut, an idiot, a horrible person, and above all else, that I would always be the embarrassing disappointment of the family.
None of what she said made it to my mind. I was too locked into this horrible nausea to concentrate on anything.
Except where this cramp originated in my body.
I’d been suffering stomach issues, but the cramp that I felt was something that typically came once a month. Lower in my abdomen.
Oh, fuck!
I ran to the bathroom, disconnecting the call with Becca on the sprint. My phone dropped to the bathroom counter harshly, and I prayed the loud clatter of it on the surface wouldn’t indicate a crack.
I didn’t have time to stop and check. There was no slowing down. This was now a race to hunch over the toilet and puke my guts out. I groaned, not even trying to get up until everything was out. I’d snacked on some things from the staff room that Rupert had brought into the conference room, but it wasn’t really a meal.
Whatever I had eaten was now gone.
“There’s no way…” I mumbled to myself as I slouched back against the wall in the tiny room. Going too far from the toilet didn’t seem wise. I felt wrung-out, dried-up, and used after throwing up so quickly. Mentally, I was battered from the humiliation of being caught with Matt and then the stupid call with Becca.
But the sheer stupidity that I’d been operating on for weeks now, that was inexcusable.
“There’s no way I can be pregnant .” Whispering it out loud didn’t change how the thought stuck.
Matt used a condom. We’d joked about him running out. We used protection!
The more the thought seeped into my mind and settled in, it felt like it was the only thing that could make sense. I’d been feeling more tired recently, quick to be out of breath. My stomach had been off for a while now. While missing my period should’ve been a huge clue, it wasn’t. My cycles had never been regular, and my doctor explained that skipping a month or two here and there wasn’t anything of an indication that I should worry about.
I worried about it now. Because if I was pregnant…
It would be my boss’s baby.