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Susie

Seriously, if they think any of us in this room are actually listening to the presentation on the new accounts payable process, they’re living in a daydream.

All around the conference room, my coworkers are zoned out into various stages of boredom and distraction.

I can almost see the little thought bubbles over everyone’s heads—imagining their happy hour plans, or dreading sitting in Friday afternoon traffic, or mentally queuing up their Netflix selection for the evening.

Any other day, I’d be in the same boat. And truthfully, I’m probably not any less distracted than anyone else here, but today I’m distracted for a very, very different reason.

I’m sitting next to Jonah from Accounting.

And yes, that’s how I’ve always mentally referred to him. I do know his last name. It’s Greenwood, but somewhere along the way he became ‘Jonah from Accounting’ in my—way too frequent—thoughts about him, and it just stuck.

Or maybe Greenwood’s his clan name. I’m not one hundred percent certain how naming conventions work for orcs.

If someone had told me five years ago that I’d be attending an accounts payable meeting, listening to a half-faun talk about claims filing, sitting at a table between an orc and a vampire, I would have asked them what kind of drugs they’d taken.

But here I am, working in the Community Outreach department of the Paranormal Citizens Relations Bureau—the Monster Relations Bureau, as most people call it.

Despite the worldwide shock that came with the passage of the Paranormal Acts five years ago, followed by the merging of the paranormal and mundane worlds, now it seems like just a fact of life.

I started at the Bureau two years ago, and being a human working alongside paranormal coworkers is nothing to bat an eye at.

Well, I might still want to bat an eye at Jonah from Accounting.

Six and a half feet tall, broad as a freaking mack truck, and with skin a lovely shade of cool green, he’s kind of hard to miss.

Not that I’ve really gotten to know him beyond a few polite conversations in the breakroom and the handful of times my expense reports have landed on his desk and he’s had to reach out with questions.

I’ve never had enough courage to get to know him better, even though I’ve had a big, dumb crush on him for the last two years.

That’s right. A huge, stupid, pathetic crush I’m absolutely not brave enough to act on.

Until today, that is, but even that hardly counts. When I got to the meeting room he was already here, and there just so happened to be an open seat next to him. I slid into it right before Carol got started with her presentation, so I didn’t even get the chance to strike up a conversation.

Jonah, for his part, looks like he’s completely engaged in the presentation because… well, because of course he would be. He seems like that kind of guy. Earnest, kind, a little dorky with his slightly too-big khaki pants and his navy blue polo.

He’s exactly my damn type. I like them big, and I like them nerdy, and even though nothing in our interactions up to this point has made me think he’s crushing on me, too, it’s still distracting as hell to be this close to him.

Focus. I need to focus.

Somewhere near the back of the room, someone clears their throat. A clock ticks on the wall, and a few afternoon clouds drift by outside the window. In the row in front of me, a minotaur checks her watch, no doubt just eager to get out of here as the rest of us.

I glance down at the empty notebook page in front of me and try to listen to what Carol’s saying. It’s probably important. I’m hopeless when it comes to filing all my expenses correctly, so I could benefit from whatever she’s saying.

Instead, my eyes wander from the blank page to where Jonah has his hands resting on the table in front of him.

How have I never noticed his hands before?

And now that I have…

I can’t stop staring at his fingers. They’re enormous. His entire hands are, really. The same pretty green as the rest of him, they’re the biggest damn hands I’ve ever seen. They’re huge and calloused and rugged, and an intrusive thought flashes into my dirty, depraved mind.

I can’t help but wonder what those fingers would feel like inside of me.

There’s a sharp throb between my legs, my inner muscles clenching on nothing like they’re already imagining what it would be like to be impaled on two, maybe three, of those thick digits. Good lord, they’re huge. Even one would give me the friction I need to…

What the hell is wrong with me?

Am I having a stroke? Did someone lace the water cooler with hallucinogenics? Are they pumping some kind of aphrodisiac in through the HVAC?

I swear on my employee-handbook I’m not usually this much of a freak, ogling my poor, innocent coworkers, and there’s no earthly reason I should be fixated on Jonah from Accounting’s hands.

I’m just sitting here, supposedly listening to Carol from Accounting talk about the new accounts receivable process—or was it accounts payable? I honestly can’t remember—while also privately fantasizing about an orc in ill-fitted khakis who’s just minding his own damn business.

And I’m so busy gawking at his fingers that I take a horrible, life-ruining amount of time to realize I’m not being as sneaky as I think I am.

Oh, my god.

I look up from Jonah’s hands to find him staring at me.

He has one eyebrow cocked as he looks from me to his fingers and back again, mouth in a slight frown around his tusks, like he’s trying to figure out what’s got me so focused on him.

I can’t help but follow his gaze down to where his hands rest on the table.

And then those damned fingers flex and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning.

To make matters worse, I glance back up at him, and all the confusion on his face is gone. In its place is pure, amused knowing , and my entire body breaks out in a flash of heat.

Making myself turn away from him, I stare unseeing toward the front of the room, and a silent stream of pleading begins in my brain.

A fire alarm. A sinkhole. A portal to hell. An earthquake to bring the whole building down around me. Anything, anything to get out of this meeting would be a blessing.

For the last ten minutes of the training, I look straight ahead, pretend I’m paying attention to Carol, and wish to any gods who might be listening that this will all turn out to be a dream and I’ll wake up any moment now.

And still, those hands are there. Stretched out in front of him, clasped together with his big fingers intertwined, taunting me.

I flee the meeting room the moment the presentation is finished, and make a beeline for the nearest bathroom.

It’s blessedly a single room with a locked door rather than a long line of stalls, and I pace back and forth across it, trying to get a handle on myself.

After turning on the sink and splashing some cool water on my face, I stare at myself in the mirror.

The same persistent, blaring thought rings through my brain.

What is wrong with me?

I’ve never been this mindlessly, viscerally attracted to someone, let alone to someone’s freaking hands , but that’s no excuse for what a creep I just was to Jonah. Another thought occurs to me as I stare at my flushed skin and bright, shame-filled eyes.

How long has it been since I got laid?

That the answer isn’t immediately obvious tells me everything I need to know. It’s been way, way too long. Not that it’s an excuse to objectify Jonah and his sexy hands, but maybe the two-year-long dry spell I’m in has something to do with my temporary insanity.

My mind flashes back to the meeting room, to Jonah, and before I can think better of it, I let myself sink into the memory.

It wasn’t just his hands. The knowing look in his hazel eyes behind the wire frames of his glasses, the way one of his eyebrows quirked up so high it almost touched the black, slightly shaggy hair over his forehead, the smirk set on his surprisingly full lips.

Fuck… just, fuck me and my stupid crush and whatever streak of insanity made me decide today was the day I was going to get bold and sit next to him.

Turning off the water, I dry my hands and face with a paper towel and slowly open the bathroom door. After making sure the coast is clear, I book it back to my desk in the Community Outreach department, which is on the other side of this floor from Accounting.

I don’t see Jonah again, and thank god for that. Maybe I’m going to make it through the rest of this day unscathed.

I’ll get out of here at five on the dot, retreat to the small apartment where I’ve lived by myself for the last couple years, and spend the weekend hibernating. I’ll pretend that none of this ever happened, and maybe by Monday, Jonah will have forgotten, too.