The Intern

Chapter 6

"What kind of deal?"

Levi had done the impossible feat of getting me to focus on something other than the increasingly demanding throb in my pants. The mix of emotions that had battled for position on his face had finally settled into one expression of annoyed defeat. He was giving in to something, although I had no idea what it was. I had my hopes, of course; all of which had to do with him continuing to move his hips in the same blissful rhythm they had been in only moments ago. Hell, if it would get him moving, I was willing to bargain just about anything despite the fact that I had very little to offer.

"I shouldn't have to give you shit, you know," Levi started, an annoyed snap in his voice, "You agreed to do this for me and now you're backing out. I should have expected as much."

"That doesn't sound like a deal," I muttered, trying to ignore the way his hips felt against mine as he adjusted his position. "Those are usually a you give, I give kind of thing."

"Would you shut your mouth for one damn second?" Levi interrupted. He let a sigh rush through his clenched teeth and I wondered for a moment if he was trying to get control of his body as well. Maybe his mind was as muddled as mine. "You never think before speaking, do you? You just say whatever the fuck pops into your head. There's no filter."

I opened my mouth and he clamped his hand over it. I thought, in an instant of pure insanity, that it would be a good idea to lick his hand. It was a childish idea, of course, something I would have done if I were messing around with Armin. Luckily whatever sense I had left was just enough to keep my tongue in my mouth. It was, unfortunately, not enough to keep the mischievous glint from flashing through my eyes. He stared down at me, reading my expression as if I had actually said my thoughts out loud, and leaned down. His fingers curled to grip my jaw as he spoke close to my face, his hand the only barrier between our lips.

"Don't even think about it, brat. Sending you back to Mike without a jaw wouldn't look good."

I swallowed.

I knew he didn't mean it as a joke. Levi's apartment had been immaculate in every sense of the word, without a spot of dust to be seen. Something about his appearance told me that the cleanliness was not a maid's doing, but his. Even now, after he had taken his time tormenting me on the couch, his clothes were still in pristine condition and his hair didn't have a strand out of place. I thought back to the times when I had seen him in the elevator, black eyeliner and wig in place, and realized that he had been perfect then, too. I had a feeling that Levi didn't do anything half-assed. He valued being as sanitary as the things around him, and my tongue on his hand would be a violation of that.

"Now, as I was saying," he continued, "I shouldn't have to give you a damn thing, but since you're determined to be a little shit... why don't you tell me what you want. One thing and one thing only."

He moved his hand and sat back on my hips. I fought my reaction to the satisfying weight pressing into the dull throb that still lingered there and spoke, "You."

I had expected, and even hoped for, some kind of shock in response to my confession, but the most I got was boredom and annoyance. His expression didn't falter in the slightest, not even a small twitch of his mouth. He was stoic. He had anticipated this. "Why?"

I felt my brow furrow as confusion sunk into me. Was that a legitimate question? Had he ever seen himself in the mirror? "What do you mean why? Isn't it obvious?"

"You think I'd waste my breath on something that's obvious?"

"You just did."

"Look at me, kid," he said despite the fact that I already was. It had become impossible to look away from him. "I'm not exactly a prize to be won. I'm offering you a fucking sex god. Don't turn down a buffet for dinner scraps."