Page 93 of Sugar

Keeping my back to her, I gave a quick glance over my shoulder to confirm no one else was around. June had the tendency to appear whenever Maddie was around and lure her out to the lobby to visit the fish they both seemed inordinately attached to.

There was only one guppy I cared about.

And I didn’t feel like sharing her.

Since she was alone, I let my displeasure seep into my voice. “Come in and close the door.”

She did as I ordered.

Technically.

She barely shuffled two steps in before only partially closing the door.

“Madeline.”

The heavy wood rattled as she hurriedly slammed it, but she still didn’t come further in.

Smart.

I gave her that distance.

For then.

Walking from behind my desk, I stopped at the side of it. I kept my eyes on her as I tossed the heavy pad I held down to land with a clatter on my keyboard. She jolted at the sound, but her wide eyes stayed locked on me.

Again…

Smart.

I waited for her to start fidgeting under my stare before taking pity on her. “I made an interesting discovery today.”

“Oh?” she prompted when I didn’t continue.

That kind of opening and heavy silence was often enough to make the guilty spew excuses, confessions, or counterattacks.

Maddie offered up none.

Too bad I already had the evidence of her wrongdoings on my desk.

I grabbed the offending object and held it up between my index and middle finger. “Would you care to explain why I found this tucked in my desk with your favorite pens you keep stealing from me?”

Not that I cared. I’d already ordered more.

She gave me a vapid blink when we both knew she was anything but. She took her clueless act a step further. “Oh, is that where that went? I must’ve misplaced it.”

“That defense might’ve been more believable if you hadn’t left it under your sticky notes.”

That time, her surprise was genuine, and it was a safe bet leaving the papers had been an accident. She rallied. “Maybe those are yours.”

“Hot pink ones covered in doodles?”

She grimaced, and her word came out as a question. “Yes?”

Fuck, she’s cute.

Always, but especially right then. Her dark hair was piled on her head with little pieces escaping to get in her face. Her loose jeans were low on her hips, and the strategic holes gave peeks of her tanned thighs. The damn cropped tee was the same one she’d been wearing the first time I saw her. And just like that night, I itched to touch her skin.

She looked every bit the pretty college student, and I was a sick bastard for wanting her so badly anyway.