28. Calliope
Calliope
“Come on, pick up.” Calypso’s call goes right to voicemail, instantly giving me flashbacks to Hadley. Who I refuse to call now out of spite.
She can come to me at this point.
Fuck her.
Fuck Calypso.
I toss my phone in my locker and slam it shut.
Unluckily for me Lazarus walks in. “Bad day?” he questions with a stupid smirk on his perfectly stupid face.
Maybe I’m PMSing. Though I refuse to use that as an excuse. My periods are irregular enough.
“Calypso isn’t answering,” I grumble feeling my irritation rise, and rise. “Hadley stopped answering me months ago. I’m just a girl with no friends, no real connections. Nothing. Zilch nada.”
“Are you hungry?” Lazarus asks carefully like I might bite his head off, which fair.
I might.
“Maybe.” I wiggle my nose. “Maybe I want chocolates, coffee. Salty snacks. A soda would be nice too.”
“An orgasm?”
“Are you offering?” I cross my arms, “because you weren’t into it over the weekend when I was at your house fucking your friends over a Twister mat.”
He chokes on his own coffee. Good.
What the fuck is wrong with me today? I’m absolutely being a bitch, but I can’t stop it, even if I wanted to.
“Ah, I needed a moment.” He coughs. “Come on.”
“Fine but only because I think chocolate is involved.” I follow him out of the break room outside the clean room and down the hall. “Office?” In the basement which I prefer.
Less people for me to rage out on.
Though logically I know my rage is completely directed at Calypso, and Hadley. Mostly Calypso because what the fuck happened at that bar. I could ask Lazarus. Maybe even Soren and Vex. But last time I asked about weird shit no one believed me. And I can’t do that to myself again.
I licked those wounds then covered them with armor I never intended to take off.
Lazarus unlocks his office door, and I follow him in mostly because of the promise of chocolate.
He didn’t promise. I’m assuming.
“I have a secret stash.” He tosses over his shoulder as he heads to his bookshelf. He tugs a huge book out and there behind it is a bag of chocolates.
“Oh bless you.” I snatch it out of his hand and gobble down a Kit Kat like my life depends on it. Which maybe it fucking does right now.
“Want to talk about it?” He leans against his bookshelf. His door slowly snicking shut.
“Maybe,” I say, swallowing the last of the chocolate. “I don’t even know where to start. It’s like everyone in my life is either ignoring me or making me feel crazy.”
Lazarus settles into his chair, his eyes tracking me as I pace his office. The chocolate bag crinkles in my grip. Mainly because I’m holding it like the lifeline it is.
“Hadley ghosted you months ago, and now Calypso is doing the same?” he asks.
I nod, unwrapping another piece of chocolate with more force than necessary. “Something happened at that bar. Something I can’t explain. And no one will tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“What bar?” Lazarus leans forward, his expression shifting from casual concern to something sharper.
“The one downtown. With the weird name. Velvet something.” I wave my hand dismissively. “Calypso took me there after she picked me up from your house.”
“What happened?” he asks. I can tell he’s invested in what I have to say. It’s that little bit of awareness all women have when a man is actually paying attention to her. It’s subtle. Mostly a feeling of his attention on you and no one else.
“I don’t know.” I look at him, I want to tell him, but I need to talk to Calypso first. “How’s the translation coming?”
“I don’t know, you tell me,” he teases.
I toss a chocolate at his head. “Ha. Slowly. I think I almost have the next glyph, but I cannot find it anywhere else. It’s just that glyph doesn’t exist. At all.
Just a random fucking glyph.” I ramble. “Like I know half of my job is research, but I’ve worked here years and I feel behind and like I need to keep pushing forward when I don’t know where forward is leading me. ” I stop pacing. “You know?”
He looks at me and I feel like he’s seeing me actually seeing me. “I do know.”
“Exactly.” I snap my fingers and go back to pacing. “Next time you dig something up,” I turn to look at him. “Especially on site, I want to go.”
“Done.”
That was easier than I expected.
“Calliope.” He says my name and a wild thrill goes through me and suddenly I’m acutely aware that we haven’t had sex yet. Haven’t kissed. And I want to kiss him.
I’d imagined it a hundred times now. Each time his lips feel different, his breath tastes different. He touches me differently. And it’s because I don’t know what the real thing feels like and suddenly, I have to know. No, I need to know.
“Where did you go just now?” Lazarus asks, drawing me out of my head.
I instantly blush. I can’t tell him what I was thinking. Can I? Am I that bold? In my head I’m that bold, but am I? Am I really?
“I was thinking about kissing you,” I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. My face burns hotter. “I’ve imagined it a hundred different ways, and I need to know which one is real.”
Lazarus’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move from his chair. The air between us thickens with possibility.
Like him getting up and kissing me.
And maybe things progressing to the desk.
The desk…
“Calliope.” My name sounds different on his lips now. Like a prayer or a warning. I can’t tell which. Is it wrong to hope that it is the former.
I take a step closer. Then another. My heart pounds so hard I’m sure he can hear it in the silence of his office.
“Have you imagined it too?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes darken. “More times than I should admit.”
“Tell me.” I’m standing right in front of him now, close enough to see the flecks of silver in his eyes. “What did you imagine?”
Lazarus reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger against my skin.
“I imagined you coming to me after everyone went to bed. Just like you are now.” His voice drops lower. “I imagined you sitting on my desk, right here.” He pats the wooden surface beside him. “And I imagined finally knowing what you taste like.”
My breath catches. I’ve never been this bold before, never wanted someone this desperately. “Show me.”
He rises from his chair slowly, like he’s afraid any sudden movement might scare me away.
We’re standing so close. He’s close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body, smell the coffee on his breath mixed with something uniquely him.
My heart hammers against my ribs so hard I’m certain he can see it through my shirt.
“Calliope,” he whispers, my name a caress against my lips. “If we do this—”
“Stop thinking,” I interrupt, my voice steadier than I feel. “Just... don’t overthink this.”
His hand cups my cheek, thumb tracing the line of my jaw. I lean into his touch, eyes fluttering half-closed.
“Last chance to change your mind,” he says, though his eyes tell me he desperately hopes I won’t.
“Not happening.” I rise on my tiptoes, closing the remaining distance between us.
The first brush of his lips against mine sends electricity zipping down my spine. Gentle, questioning. As if he’s giving me one final chance to pull away. I don’t. Instead, I press closer, my free hand coming to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palm.
The kiss deepens when Lazarus tilts his head, his other arm wrapping around my waist to pull me flush against him. The chocolate bag crinkles between us, forgotten. His lips are softer than I imagined, tasting of coffee and something sweet. Probably from whatever he had for breakfast.
I drop the chocolate bag. It hits the floor with a soft thud as I bring both hands up to tangle in his hair. My tongue tangles with his, tasting him, feeling him, learning him.
I want more so much more and I can’t tell if it’s more kissing or more of everything.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. My lips feel swollen, my body humming with desire.
“Well?” he asks, his voice rough. “Was it what you imagined?”
I shake my head, a smile playing on my lips. “Better.”
Lazarus laughs, a low sound that vibrates through me. He brushes his thumb across my bottom lip.
“We should probably get back to work,” he says, though he makes no move to release me.
I should agree. We’re in his office, at work, during business hours. But I don’t want to move from this spot, from his arms.
“One more,” I whisper, and maybe a part of me hopes like hell this goes another direction.
Lazarus doesn’t need any further encouragement. His lips meet mine again, more insistent this time. His tongue traces the seam of my mouth until I open for him.
I melt against him, my fingers tightening in his hair as the kiss deepens. His hands slide down to my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space between us.
It’s exactly what I wanted and more.
I feel the edge of his desk press against the back of my thighs as he guides me to sit on it, never breaking contact. His body settles between my legs, and I wrap them around his waist instinctively. The position makes my head spin, or maybe that’s just him.
“We really shouldn’t,” he murmurs against my lips. But his hands are already sliding under my shirt, fingertips tracing patterns on my bare skin.
“Definitely shouldn’t,” I agree, tugging his shirt from his pants so I can feel the warmth of his skin beneath my palms.
His mouth moves from my lips to my jaw, then down to my neck, where he nips lightly at the sensitive skin. I gasp, arching into him. The logical part of my brain, the part that knows we’re at work, in his office with thin walls and colleagues just down the hall, is growing quieter by the second.
“Lock the door,” I whisper, my voice husky with desire.
“It’s automatic. No one gets in without a code.”