The Intern: Vol. 3 (5 page)

Chapter Eight

Cecilia

“Oh, my god! You’re finally back!” I scream as Simon swings me around like a child. “God, I missed you!”

“
I missed you, too!” he yells back. “But I’m pretty sure you just blew my eardrum out.”

He sets me down and lays a kiss on my lips.

“Sorry.” I smile up at him. “I just…you have no idea how excited I am to see you! Living here with my mother every day has been a fucking nightmare.”

We wa
lk into the house, slightly wet from the rain, and we immediately go up to my room to chat. “That bad, huh?” he asks, sitting on my bed.

“
Our conversation consists of ‘hellos,’ ‘goodbyes,’ and ‘Don’t forget it’s your turn to take out the trash.’” I mock my mother’s tone, flashing my best fake smile. “It’s been hell.”

“
She still won’t talk to you about your dad?”

“
Nope. She’s pretty much set that in concrete with ‘never ever go digging into your dad’s case again or else!’ lecture.”

“
You think she’s going let you go to the lock box in two years when it’s time?” He shuffles himself comfortably against the headboard.

“
Whether or not she lets me, I’m going. I don’t care what it takes. It’s my right just as much as it’s hers.” He nods, agreeing. “I’ve thought about it so much that I’ve now convinced myself my dad was in the mob, he was their gambling dealer, and when he started losing, they called for a mob hit,” I say in all seriousness. “I might’ve let my mind wander a bit,” I say after Simon gives me a wide-eyed expression.

“
I think you’ve been watching too much HBO.”

“
It’s likely.” I laugh in agreement.

*   *   *

I wake up in the middle of the night, pressed firmly against Bentley’s rock hard body. I can feel his chest pumping calmly with each slow breath. It feels natural—like home—being with Bentley.

He stirs behind me and nuzzles his nose into my neck and hair
, moaning. His hand runs down my body and reaches inside my pants. It doesn’t take long for me to realize what he’s after.

I shimmy my ass against his growing
erection, feeling it expand through his briefs as he rubs it harder into me. “Mm…” I moan as my head falls back and he begins kissing my neck, which is now covered in goose bumps as my body anticipates his touch.

“
Tell me what you need, sweetheart,” he growls softly in my ear, his hand making its way to my pussy. He curls a finger inside making me jump at the intrusion. I moan out in desperation, wanting—
needing
—more. “Is this what you want? Tell me,” he demands.

“
Yes. God, yes.”

He inserts a second finger, and then a third, stretching my walls to the brim.
He works his fingers in and out, harder and deeper, making me dripping wet as he teasingly tortures me.

My hips match his rhythm, moving in sync
as he drives into me faster. I whimper and moan as he drives me into an orgasm, my hips jerking with his powerful movements. His mouth covers mine as he wraps a leg over holding me still. His bodyweight feels amazing as I ride out the intensity.

He breaks the kiss as he
climbs on top of me, flashing a mysterious grin as he lowers his body. He pulls my shirt up slightly and begins feathering kisses down my stomach. The softness of his lips is driving me insane as he makes his way toward my already aching pussy.

“
Bentley,” I whimper. “Lower.”

I feel him smile against my stomach, but he doesn
’t give in. Instead, his lips make a path up my stomach and land on my breast.

“
God, Bentley.”

His lips wrap around my nipple, sucking hard as my body frenzies underneath him.
He’s torturing me and he knows it, too. His hand cups my other breast as he works my nipple, slowly and playfully teasing me.

“
Pants…” I gasp.

“
Yes?” he asks, amused.

“
Off.”

“
I’m not wearing pants,” he muses, laughing at how worked up he’s gotten me.

“
Asshole,” I groan as I shift underneath him, pulling his mouth off me. “Take. Off.
My
. Pants.” I clarify.

His lips form into a devilish grin as his hands make their way to my waistband, pulling them down my legs and throwing them to the floor.

“Better?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“
Yes,” I breathe out, pulling him back toward me. “Much better.”

I pull him out, hard and ready.
I stroke his shaft firmly as his tongue licks from my collarbone to my neck, and then makes its way to my mouth, sucking on my tongue before letting his dance with mine.

“
Ceci…” he moans as I pump him harder.

“
Hm?”

“
Oh, god…” he breathes out, unable to keep up with our greedy kiss. “God, I love you.”

My head pops up to his eye level and my hand freezes the second I hear his words—
those words.

“
W-What?”

…
why the fuck is my phone ringing?

“
Bentley…what did you just say?”

“
Answer your damn phone!” a voice in the distant screams.

Bang, bang, bang.

I gasp loudly at the sound of my door about to fall down. I look around and notice the sun shining into my room—it’s morning.

I look around anxiously and finally realize my phone
’s ringing.

“
Cecilia!” Nathan screams again on the outside of the door.

“
Sorry! Chill out,” I yell back in a daze from my dream.
Just a dream…

Never fucking fails. At least once a week
, Bentley enters my dreams, torturing and taunting me of what I had. What we had. What I screwed up.

You
’d think I’d be used to it by now, that it’s been long enough and that I should be over him after all this time, but if it were even possible, it’s only been worse. Since Bentley is always in the spotlight or featured on some magazine, it makes it impossible to forget my feelings for him.

I grab
my cell from the dresser and pick it up. “Someone better be dying,” I answer without looking at the caller ID.

“
Are you sleeping?” It’s Cora.

“
What gave it away?” I groan, sleepily rolling over and closing my eyes.

“
Sorry, but I have news. Big news!” she gushes. I can tell she’s ready to burst at the seams. I decide to sit up and prepare for whatever it is she’s going to tell me.

“
Okay, I’m ready. Tell me.”

She squeals all giddy, making me pull the phone away from my ear.
“I need you to pick me up from the airport today!”

“
What are you talking about?”

“
I’m flying in. I’ll be there in four hours.”

“
WHAT?” I scream my eyes going wide. “You’re coming home finally?”

“
Yup. Oh, god, I can’t wait to see you!”

“
Yes! I’m so excited! Simon just got here, too. I’ll finally stop being a hermit by myself and the three of us will be back together for the summer,” I say happily, the smile reaching my eyes. I’m so happy.

“
Ugh,” she groans. “I haven’t seen Simon since last summer. Not sure I really want to.”

I roll my eyes even though she can
’t see me. “Seriously, you two are going to get along—whatever weird liking, not liking each other thing you have going on.”

“
Fine,” she moans. “As long as I can pretend he doesn’t exist, they’ll be no arguing.”

“
Whatever works, I guess.” I laugh. “So, what terminal are you coming in?”

We finish our conversation and I immediately shower and get dressed. Cora didn
’t even come home for holidays, so it’s been ten long months since we’ve seen each other.

Being with Simon and Cora again feels like home. It’s comforting to be with my two best friends again, but also painful. So much is changing so fast and there’s nothing I can do about it except embrace it and enjoy our time together.

I end up getting a job that summer as a
cocktail waitress. I take whatever position I can find that gets me out of the house most nights. Cora takes a hostess position so we can spend more time together, and Simon visits us just to annoy us. But it was perfect, nonetheless—I get to be with the two people that really ground me.

Not knowing answers to my dad
’s case still haunt me. I anticipate being able to open my dad’s lock box in two years. It feels like forever, yet I know it’s not. It’s sooner than never knowing at all, and I can wait since I know that I’ll find out his secrets soon—hopefully.

Simon and Cora
hookup once at the end of summer—kind of their way of saying goodbye, I guess. I try to not question it, but my mind spins at all the times they’ve taunted each other all summer. But then again, it makes complete sense.

Saying goodbye was the worst part of
the summer. Simon transferred to a school in Florida after his study abroad. The romantic in me thinks it’s so he is close to Cora, but both of them deny it.

Casey comes home for the
Fourth of July and looks completely different. Her hair is short and dyed bleach blonde with pink underneath. She’s lost a good twenty pounds and wears sunglasses as big as her face. She’s gone complete diva. But I love her and spending that short amount of time with her was amazing.

Mom and I still don
’t talk much. She continues working a ridiculous amount of hours, and when she is home, we rarely make eye contact. A part of me knows she’s nervous being around me since I know some of dad’s secrets. Soon they’ll all be out, and she won’t be able to deny anything. Until then, our relationship will continue the way it is.

I look around my room that I spent the last three months in. It looks the exact same
as when I came home from college. I didn’t put up any new pictures or even change the color of my sheets. It still doesn’t feel like my room anymore.

I load my car with my luggage and a couple boxes packed with my things. I had a feeling I wouldn
’t be coming home anytime soon, or at all, once my second year was completed. I’d probably look into an off-campus apartment or something.

“
I love you,” my mom says quietly as she stands by my car. “I’m glad you came home.”

I swallow as I stare expressionless at her.
“I love you, too, Mom.”

She leans in and we awkwardly hug goodbye. I wish I could say what I really want to say, but it
’s not the way I want to leave things with her. For now, it’s just awkward silence and glances, which is better than fighting with each other.

“
Drive safe. Text me when you arrive, okay?”

“
Sure.” I flash a weak smile at her. I open the driver’s side door and get in. I sit down and look back at my childhood home that’s filled with secrets and tainted memories.

Part Three

Chapter Nine

Bentley

I walk out of the gym, dripping wet with sweat. I chug my bottle of water before getting into my car and throwing the empty
container on the passenger seat.

Working out four to five times a week has made for an isolated, structured routine.
It’s definitely different from my corporate job I worked two years ago—working relentlessly ten hours a day.

I spent my
first-year and a half of my modeling career traveling worldwide for exclusive photo shoots and magazine interviews. It was an amazing experience, but I needed to stabilize my life more. I’ve opted to traveling out of the country once every month or two now instead, leaving a lot more time for working out and more national shoots.

However, I was taking the majority of
the summer off. She was able to move my press appearances for early fall.

Kickboxing has become a constant in my life. Maya helped train me by using my emotions into my workouts. She helped relieve all the pent up
stress and misery I was feeling. In fact, she’s been a complete life changer.

After a good six months of showing up for classes twice a week, she asked if I
’d be interested in training others. My traveling schedule had slowed down, and I was game for anything she was offering. I had hoped helping someone the way she’d helped me would be fulfilling. And it is.

Now I train and
instruct classes three times a week, plus working out one to two days on my own. It’s definitely a different lifestyle than I’m used to before, but it’s been the one thing that’s kept me happy, and my mind free from wandering—thinking about her.

Cecilia West.

I couldn’t help myself and looked her up a while back. She was attending the University of Nebraska and living on campus. Since I hardly left the gym or my house, and she lived on campus an hour away, our chances of running into each became slim—and I wasn’t sure if I was happy or sad about that.

*   *   *

“Maya!” I call out as I walk into the gym with all the lights already on. I open up on Mondays usually, so no one should be here yet. “Maya, you here?”

“
Bentley? I’m in the office,” she calls back.

I round the door and step
into her frantically clicking away on her keyboard in front of the computer.

“
What’s going on? You look like shit.”

She slumps her shoulders as she scowls at me.
“Will just bailed on me. He was taking over the intro classes this summer. Now I’m short staffed and have no extras to cover the class.”

I think for a moment before responding
. “That one is Monday evenings, right? I can teach it,” I offer.

Her eyebrows
rise as she finally stops slamming her fingers down. “You already teach the morning and afternoon classes on Mondays. Plus, you train in between.”

“
So?”

“
That means you’ll be here like all day.”

I cross my arms as I
lean up against the doorframe, cocking a smile. “Are you doubting my ability to work a full day or something? You’re aware of who you’re talking to, right?”

She rolls her eyes up at me.
“Oh, yes. The all-powerful, all-too-perfect Bentley Leighton,” she mocks. “I almost forgot.”

“
Well, I don’t know about powerful, but I’ll take perfect.”

“
You’re so egotistical.”

“
And you love it,” I fire back.

“
Guys like you are the exact reason I don’t date them.”

“
Oh, come on. Not all guys are like me.” I grin. “I mean, it takes a lot of time and determination.”

“
You’re annoying.”

“
And
your
life saver.”

She groans and slouches before giving in.
“Fine, you can take the class. But you had better bring your A-game. No slacking because you can’t handle a nine-hour day.”

“
Maya, please. Give me a little credit.”

She laughs at my confidence.
“You start today. Hope you had your Wheaties.”

I smirk as I push off the doorframe.
“Always do.”

June is the first month of
summer classes. They only last through August, which means they are longer and more intense. I have my ten a.m. Kwando kickboxing class, which is a combination of techniques of boxing, Taekwondo, and karate. It’s the most intense but pumps me up for the entire day.

My
three p.m. class is Cardio Kickboxing, which is a medium-level based kickboxing class. It’s a step above intro and a step below the combined class.

And starting tonight at
six p.m. is my new women’s intro class. Intro classes are twice a week, whereas the other two classes are three times a week.

I go to the
studio where my first class is held and begin setting up. I crank the music and get myself pumped up for the first day of summer session classes.

*   *   *

By five p.m., I’m ready to die. Spring session ended two weeks ago meaning I had only trained on my own, but now I was getting my ass kicked working out back to back.

“
You going to make it?” Maya pops into the studio and questions.

“
Yeah…” I nod. “I’ll be fine.”

“
Make sure you get something to eat. I don’t need my best instructor passing out.”

I curl my lips into a smirk.
“I’m your best instructor?”

Sh
e sighs and begins walking away. “This is
exactly
why I don’t date guys!”

I laugh and crank the music back up. If I
’m going to make it through another class, I need to stay awake.

I eat a protein bar and
drink another bottle of water before setting up for my last class. I can already feel my body burning and know I’ll be sitting in an ice bath later.

At quarter to six, people begin
piling into the room. Most are younger—between twenty and thirty—and once they notice me, they smile wide and take the closest spots in the front of the room.
Great.

Some recognize me and ask for my autograph. I try to kindly reject, but I can
’t say no to a fan, so I sign whatever they have for me to sign and tell them that in this class, I’m their instructor. It’s not always easy setting those boundaries right away.

At exactly
six p.m., I welcome the class and introduce myself. It’s packed to the max, and I can barely see everyone that’s here with all the kickboxing bags.

I begin
going through some basic things such as stance. I show them the proper way to stand, part their feet, and hold their upper bodies up. It’s all very introduction-like, and probably the most boring part of the whole session, but if they don’t nail it down right away, everything else will be a complete mess.

I walk around the room
, and as they all work on their stances, I guide some of the ladies with my hands on their hips to make sure they can feel the difference in between what they were doing and what they need to be doing. Some of them giggle and shimmy their asses in front of me as if I’m going to be impressed. I’m not.

I should
’ve known teaching a woman’s intro class meant a handful of girls who were only there to gawk. Will was definitely a ladies’ man. He’s been the intro instructor since before I started here, which meant people were definitely familiar with him.

“
Ladies, is something funny?” I scowl, backing away.

“
No, not at all,” one replies in a serious tone, but her face is anything but serious. She thinks she’s flirting.

“
Carry on then.” I walk away annoyed and back to the front of the class where a few more are completely on the wrong side of their bag.

Just as I
’m assisting another student, I hear the door open and slam shut. All heads turn toward it, but I’m on the opposite side of the room, so I can’t see what all the commotion is about.

“
Shit, sorry,” a young girl’s voice echoes through the room. “C’mon, let’s go in the back.” I hear her say to her friend next to her.

The
disruption has interrupted my class and it ticks me off. I walk back to the front of the room and clear my throat to get their attention.

“
Ladies, please make sure you are on time. Tardiness isn’t something I take lightly. Next time, the door will be locked,” I say sternly. I need to make sure they are all aware of how inconsiderate it is to show up late to my class.

“
Sorry!” One yells from the back. “It won’t happen again.” I angle my body so I can get a glimpse at who I’m talking to, but they’re all the way in the back, and I can’t see between all the bodies and bags.

“
All right, I’m going to demonstrate stance one more time—girls in the back, please pay attention so you can keep up.”

Everything runs smoothly as I transition to the different types of punches—jab, cross, hook, and uppercut. I go slow, making sure they can all keep up and walk around as they practice the different
punches once with their bags.

“
You need to angle your body more to the right. And part your feet,” I instruct to one girl. “That’s it. Keep your chin up.” She demonstrates for me once again. “Good.”

I
notice I’m running out of time, so I walk back toward the front of the class and go over basic kicks—front, side, and roundhouse. I demonstrate several times and tell them all to practice with me.

After a few minutes, I have them rotate between punching and kicking. I remind them to
focus on keeping their stance while working on both.

I look around and notice many
unbalanced girls. I chuckle to myself as I see them all try really hard. I make my way to the back since I haven’t been there yet. I notice a few girls stumbling as they try to switch between punching and kicking.

“
Steady.” I grab her hips and angle her body the right way. “Balance your hips and keep your feet apart. Flex your arms and focus on keeping everything tight.” I align my body with hers, showing her exactly what I mean.

“
Like this?” Her voice is laced with seduction and I know exactly what she’s doing.

“
Yes. Great.” I back away and brush a hand through my hair. This is definitely going to be a long eight weeks.

I walk behind the last row and watch as they all try to mimic my moves.
There are a couple of girls on the way end whom I presume are the ones that stumbled in late.

I
rub the back of my neck as I watch the one on the end. She has legs for days, all tan and solid. It’s not hard to notice them, but her stance is all wrong as she pushes her ass out and bobs her feet back and forth.

Oh
, god.

“
There’s a reason being late to my class is not something I usually allow,” I growl, gripping her hips with both hands. I immediately feel her body tense from my fingers. I push myself closer to her and she shivers underneath me.

She
’s clearly nervous around me, so I take the opportunity and adjust her body to what her stance should be. I place my foot in between her feet and push her foot farther to the right, opening her legs wider.

“
Make sure your legs are parted. Bend your knees slightly.” I hear her swallow. Hard. She doesn’t speak. She only nods at my demands. I can feel the heat radiating off her skin the longer I touch her. “Relax. You’re too tense,” I say against her ear. Her long blonde hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, exposing the goose bumps on her neck and shoulders.

Her body eases into mine as she straightens her back and perfects
her stance. My foot is still in between her legs along with my hands on her hips. She trembles, her body giving her away completely. She’s obviously affected by me and from the way that I’m touching her. I haven’t even seen this girl’s face, but I know there’s something about her that makes me eager to spin her around.

“
Perfect,” I whisper.

At
that moment, it’s just her and me. I feel her steady breaths as I stand against her.
Back away
, I tell myself.

Hell no.

I notice the rest of the room is silent as everyone stares at us.
Shit
. I rub both hands up her arms and land on her shoulders, placing a quick, easy pat. “Good job,” I say casually as the class watches me intently. I hear her breath hitch, as I feel something rough against my thumb on her right shoulder.

I glance down and notice
a scar underneath her thin tank top strap. My own breath hitches as I recognize that very fucking scar.