The Intern: Enemies To Lovers

“Dinner, my place-you know, the house where I’ve never brought any other woman before.”

She moved in closer, pressing her tits against my desk. “And you’re going to give me those lips-you know, the ones you’ve never given to any woman besides me.”

I winked. “You’re always the exception, Hannah.”

She released my hand and sauntered toward the door, glancing at me over her shoulder as she said, “I’ll bring dessert.”

“There’s only one thing I want for dessert, and that’s you.”

TWENTY-SIX

HANNAH

B

utterflies. That was the only way I could describe the feeling in my stomach as I walked up to Declan’s front door. This wasn’t the first time I’d been here. We’d spent plenty of time together since our return from Wyoming. But this occasion felt different than those previous dates.

It felt more significant.

It finally felt like all the obstacles were moved out of our way now that we’d had conversations with my family, and as of this evening, I was no longer interning at The Dalton Group.

And it felt like our relationship had changed.

Intern Hannah wasn’t knocking on his door.

Girlfriend Hannah was.

I’d stripped off my suit when I got home, and after a shower, I’d put on leggings and a tank top, adding very little makeup with my hair in a high ponytail. This was the version of me that I wanted Declan to wrap his arms around.

He opened the door, wearing a pair of dark jeans, a white T-shirt that fit snugly over his incredibly defined chest, and bare feet. His thick lips were outlined in delicious, dark scruff.

I shifted my weight, balancing my overnight bag and two Tupperware containers. “Hi.”

As his hand moved up the frame of the door, his eyes taking in the entire length of me, my lungs tightened, a feeling consuming me that went far deeper than just a physical reaction.

“Hannah …” His voice was deep, growly. “Some women try so hard to look beautiful. You”-his eyes dipped before slowly rising-“do it so effortlessly. Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

His compliment made me breathe harder.

“Casual is my favorite.” I ran just my fingertips over his abs, feeling the ripples and line of dark hair through the thin material. “On both of us.”

He moved to the side, adding more space to the doorway. “Come in.”

I didn’t get farther than the entrance before he gripped the back of my head, steering my face closer to his.

“I need those lips.”

He slammed our mouths together.

Tasting.

Feeding.

And when he pulled away, he roared, “Exactly what I needed.”

Standing this close-my lips still wet and tasting of him, the feel of his skin against mine, the wind of his cologne, the heat from his presence-it was sensory overload.

With his hand on my face, he kissed me again. “Fuck, I missed this.”

My eyes drifted open.

“This smile”-he tightened his hold on my cheek-“I don’t want it to fade tonight.”

“I can’t see how it could.”

Not with the way I was feeling.

How I was still hardly breathing.

“Come on,” he said, his hand now on my back, leading me into the kitchen.

As I set the containers on his island, he took the bag from my shoulder and took it into his bedroom.

Every time I came here, I fell more in love with his home. An environment that was pristine, a style that was masculine. Dark art covered steel-gray walls, the floors rich and ebony. Molding and lighting weren’t just accents; they were used as decor. I’d once commented on how even his entryway was decorated to perfection, and he’d said every litigator needed a strong opening statement.

Except Declan’s entire house was a statement.

One I would love to spend much more time in.

I closed my eyes and took in the aroma, and as I heard Declan rejoin me in the kitchen, I said, “Whatever Peter prepared smells delicious.”

“Tonight wasn’t Peter. It was all me.”

His admission caused my eyelids to open.

Declan’s private chef had made us dinner every time I came over. His food was amazing, and his presentation was five-star worthy. I’d had no idea Declan even knew how to cook.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“So, you’re telling me that this gorgeous kitchen wasn’t just designed for Peter?” I scanned the high-end appliances, the extra-tall cabinets, the island that was the length of my whole bedroom.

He tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. “In college, I quickly learned that if I wanted decent food, I was going to have to make it myself. So, I did. I just don’t have time to do much cooking anymore. Hence why Peter works for me full-time.” He moved to the other side of the kitchen, where he decanted a bottle of red before he poured some into two glasses.

“What’s the special occasion?”

He returned to my side and handed me a glass. “You.”

God, this man.

“Well, whatever you made, it smells amazing.” I tilted my face up to him.

He held his glass to mine. “To graduating law school with top honors and the highest accumulated hours of pro bono work during the year.” He kissed me. “That’s impressive.”

“How did you know about my pro bono work?”

He smiled. “You know I have plenty of connections at that school.”

“What else did Professor Ward tell you?”

“She didn’t know that I’d switched firms and wanted to see if there were any openings at Smith & Klein in case you decided you didn’t want to work at The Dalton Group.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “She did that for me?”

“She believes in you, Hannah. You’re her top student, and she wanted to make sure you had options.”

Still holding my glass to his, I said, “Did you tell her I was your intern?”

“I might have skipped that detail, but I did mention that we’re dating, and I promised to take good care of you-not when it comes to law. You have that all figured out on your own.”

I gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll cheers to that.”

“What did you make?” A grin spread across his face while he waited for me to reply. “Or is it a surprise?”