Chapter 173 Hell No!
~Hermes~
"Do you want to have sex with me?"
The words don’t just echo — they detonate.
For a second, I actually forget how to breathe.
No, this has to be a joke. A prank. Some sort of secretary-initiated… hazing ritual? Because what the hell is this petite, soft-voiced girl doing pinning me — me — against a wall with the force of a damn hydraulic press?
She’s stronger than she looks. Too strong, and my traitorous body reacts instantly.
A sharp, painful twitch shoots down my cock, and I swallow hard.
God.
I really must have a crush on her or hormone poisoning.
Or both.
Her lips — plump, bitten, pink — are right in front of me, trembling with some wild mix of nerves and determination.
I can’t even think, or speak.
"What?" she snaps softly when I don’t respond. "You want to kiss me instead?"
And then—
she actually tilts her head and brings her lips closer, as if offering herself like a dare.
My entire system short-circuit.
Feeling suddenly overheated, I slide sideways off the wall—trying to put space, sanity, anything between us.
She follows.
No.
No, no, no.
I lift my hand fast and press my index finger to her forehead, pushing her back a fraction of an inch — the only possible defense mechanism I have left.
Her forehead meets my fingertip, soft, warm, dangerously inviting.
"Don’t," I manage.
It comes out lower than intended. Rougher.
Embarrassingly close to a groan.
She blinks.
I blink.
"What!" she suddenly barks, throwing her arms out. "Am I not that desirable?"
I freeze. Completely.
My lips actually tremble—what the hell is happening to me?—and I stutter like a complete idiot.
"No… no. You’re beautiful. And gorgeous. And your eyes are so—"
"Talk about my body, Hermes. My body. Leave my eyes out of it."
She mutters it like I’ve personally offended her ancestors.
Then she turns and walks away, flopping onto the bed with a dramatic sigh worthy of a stage play. Arms crossed, her head tilted, annoyed. Beautiful. A menace.
I run a hand through my hair.
What does she want from me?
We came here for a document.
A simple document.
Not this—whatever this is. Sex? Kissing? Temptation wrapped in sweet madness?
Is she testing me?
Does she… like me?
Because I’m painfully aware I like her.
There’s only one way to know.
I inhale once, steadying myself—then walk to her. I sit beside her, and before I can talk myself out of it, I hook an arm around her waist and pull her onto my lap, her body hitting mine with a soft gasp.
Her eyes fly open, pupils dilated, lips parted, and I swear that sound she makes goes straight to the base of my spine.
"If you let me," I murmur, my voice lower than I expected, "I’ll claim your lips."
She mutters something I can’t make out.
I don’t wait.
I cup her face with both hands, thumbs brushing her cheeks, and pull her in—slow, deliberate, hungry.
My lips meet her upper lip first, catching the softest whimper against my mouth. She melts immediately, hands sliding around my neck, tugging, tilting her head to give me more.
I try to be gentle.
I really do.
But she deepens the kiss—rough, needy—and I match her without hesitation. Heat slams between us, fast and dizzying. She tastes like vanilla. Real vanilla. From the ice cream she practically devoured in the taxi.
The kiss turns primal, urgent—two people devouring each other because breathing suddenly feels optional.
It feels like sex.
Just with our mouths.
And God help me, I don’t want to stop.
Our mouths moved desperately, starved—sharp, messy, almost angry. I felt myself unravel in ways I hadn’t since before I knew her name. Since that night that lived in the back of my skull like a fever dream I pretended not to revisit. The night she kissed me.
June’s lips pressed harder, demanding, pulling me deeper, and something inside me slammed awake.
A flash.
Just a flicker—but enough to burn.
Her body arched beneath me like she had once before. Her breathy moan sounded exactly like—
"Hermes…" Her voice. Her voice from — I don't know.
It hit me so hard I broke the kiss with a sharp inhale, chest rising and falling like I had just sprinted.
She blinked up at me, lips swollen, eyes glazed, looking wrecked and confused. "Why did you stop?" she whispered, almost breathless.
I swallowed. My throat felt raw. "That—" I tried, but my voice cracked. I cleared it. "That felt… familiar."
She froze, then swallowed, lashes fluttering. "What do you mean?"
I couldn’t answer yet. My brain was glitching between fragments of memory and the reality of her warm thighs straddling me, her hands tangled in my shirt, her vanilla-sweet breath brushing my mouth every time she exhaled.
I tightened my hold on her waist without realizing.
God. God, I was losing it.
The scent of her skin. Her soft gasp. The way she pushed back into me without fear.
"June…" I murmured, eyes locked on her parted lips, "have we ever… done this before?"
Her heart seemed to stop. I felt her pulse jump under my fingertips.
She opened her mouth—but I didn’t let her speak.
Because the half-formed memory hit again.
Her laugh—drunk. Her fingers pulling me down. Her body squeezing around me like she couldn’t get enough—her voice cracking when she said my name like it was dangerous.
I sucked in a breath so sharply it almost hurt.
"Why do you feel like someone I’ve already tasted?" I murmured, rough, low, almost pained.
June went still. Completely still.
Her lips trembled, her breathing shaky.
And I didn’t wait for the answer. I didn’t want the answer.
I simply flipped her fully under me, hands sliding up her waist, and hissed against her ear:
"If you keep kissing me like that… I will take you. Right here. Right now."
Her breath hitched.
"And this time," I growled, lips brushing her jaw, "I won’t forget a single second."
June whimpered, her face pressed close to mine, eyes locked on my lips, sniffing slowly.
I gently pulled her back, hands cupping her shoulders. "What’s wrong?" I asked, my voice softer than I intended.
She sniffled, eyes glistening, and muttered, "Do you remember me now—or do I have to fuck you first?"
I bit my lip, dropping my gaze. The fragments of memory flickered—her face, her scent, her touch. She was someone important, of that I was certain, but I couldn’t place her. The emotions rushing in were… layered. Complicated. Far from just employer and employee.
"Were we dating?" I asked, rubbing the back of my neck, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
Her eyes shone, lips trembling, and I felt something tighten in my chest.
I sighed, muttering to myself that I must be imagining things.
"Secretly, I mean. We were secretly dating… or just having fun, right?" I added hesitantly.
Her face fell, and she slid down from my lap, leaving me feeling exposed in ways I hadn’t expected.
"Hermes," she said quietly, "What do you feel about me… after we just kissed? Do you feel love for me?"
I swallowed hard. Everything inside me felt tangled, chaotic. Memories and emotions collided. "Am I supposed to feel love? Uh—wait… was it a secret love affair?"
"Jesus Christ, Hermes!" she yelled, startling me.
"I’m sorry," I said quickly, shifting away, voice tight. "If you can just explain our relationship… I’ll be grateful."
"Really?" she asked, face stern.
"Or… or we can have that sex you suggested. I’m down," I stammered.
"Hell no!" she snapped, eyes flashing. Then her phone lit up, and she brought it to her face. A soft sigh escaped her lips. She stood, composure returning.
"Let’s go," she said, resigned.
I watched her, heart twisting at the look on her face. I wanted to reach out, to make her stay. I felt sudden guilt—and maybe even a pang of love.
"But I remember your name… June… no one told me. That counts for something, right?"
She forced a smile, lips tight. "You probably heard it from Ted or someone else. C’mon. We’re done here. Ted’s texting me to
come back with you."
She left the room, leaving me sitting there, chest heavy.
I let out a deep sigh. I didn’t know how, or when, but I would remember who she was to me. No matter what.