“HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!”

 

I nearly fall out of my chair at the sound of Connie’s girlish exclamation and look up to see her standing in the doorway to my office, her hands curled into claws, snarling menacingly. She looks the perfect part of the corporate witch, her hokey pointed hat matching her black pant suit with a lime green button down underneath. I shake my head, trying to calm my racing heart.

 

“You look ridiculous,” I say and Connie smiles, showing off her plastic vampire teeth.

 

“You have a stick up your ass,” she replies and then frowns, reaching into her mouth and pulling out the fangs, dropping them into the trashcan next to my desk as she plops into one of the high backed chairs in front of me. “You gearing up for the big benefit tonight?”

 

I sneer at the mere mention of it even though it was all I had been dealing with all week. Fundraising is one of my least favorite duties as curator of the Greek arts department at the Metropolitan Museum of Art but I had been making the best of it since taking over almost a year ago. Connie and I worked together to promote black tie events and bring in guest lecturers but when Connie’s boss retired last month the man that took over the position had other thoughts in mind for not just my department but the entire museum. He wanted to get the young people involved, making everything fun and hip. I scoff.

 

So now tonight, what was usually a nice black tie event for the Apollo patrons, a group of well-minded, intelligent Upper East Side trust fund kids and art students from Pratt and NYU has now been reduced to a mindless costume party for celebutauntes and heiresses. “A Night in Ancient Greece” it was touted as and it was enough to make me want to vomit. When I’d gone out for lunch earlier I’d already seen some of the damage done to my gallery, some of the finer art pieces being stored away to make room for a bar and stupid cliché decorations. They had fake chariots and a giant instillation of columns that even while lying in a pile waiting to be assembled looked more Roman than Greek and the whole thing was just completely wrong.

 

“Did you see the gallery?” Connie asks when I don’t respond and I glare at her receiving a withered look in return. “Sky it’s not that bad. It actually looks kind of cool.”

 

I lay my pen down and blink at her. “They’re putting strobe lights in there.”

 

Connie’s eyes widen. “Really? Wow that’ll be neat.”

 

“They’re turning my gallery into a club,” I say rolling my eyes and Connie sighs.

 

“It’s just a dance Skylar,” Connie says and I lean back in my chair pursing my lips. “We’ve thrown them before.”

 

“I know but those were classy events,” I reply and then open the bottom drawer of my desk pulling out a copy of the invitation for the party. “Would you look at the invitations?”

 

Connie picks up the little black card with gold embossed crown of fig leaves curled around the words “A Night in Ancient Greece” and the information about the time and place of the benefit. She examines it carefully and then looks up at me blankly. She shrugs.

 

“So?” she says tossing it back on my desk.

 

“So!” I exclaim reaching for it and jabbing it with my finger. “Those are fig leaves. Fig leaves are Roman.”

 

“Oh for chrissake Skylar,” Connie sighs pulling her hat off.

 

“Paris Hilton is on the guest list for this,” I add and the look on Connie’s face goes from annoyed to amused.

 

“You know who else is?” Connie asks smirking and I narrow my eyes at her.

 

“Don’t.”

 

“Your boyfriend.”

 

“Oh shut up,” I reply my cheeks heating at the word “boyfriend.” It just sounded so…young. And if there was one thing Justin didn’t need to sound it was younger. “He’s not coming.”

 

Connie looks at me her face showing utter disappointment. “Why not!”

 

“Why not!” I exclaim. “You know why not.”

 

Connie sighs. “Oh come on this is not because Dan asked you to bring him.”

 

“Yes! It is! I’m not whoring out my…my…”

 

I stutter searching for a word to describe what it was Justin and I actually are. We aren’t engaged but we are exclusive so we aren’t exactly dating really. Calling him my lover makes it sound like some hippy dippy seventies melodrama and calling him my boyfriend just seems juvenile. I mean we aren’t seventeen. I cringe.

 

“Yes?” Connie prompts smirking at me from across the desk and I narrow my eyes at her.

 

“What I’m saying is Justin is not just some…some thing that I can parade around whenever your boss wants some publicity. He’s a human being. A human being I happen to care a lot for so no I didn’t even tell him about this ridiculous mockery of an event.”

 

“Okay okay,” Connie concedes, holding her hands in the air in defeat. “You hate everything and everyone I get it.”

 

I purse my lips, feeling a little bad for going off on her like that. It’s not her fault. I had just been so happy at the thought of Justin coming to this event. I had every intention of inviting him before, knowing it would be perfect timing for him to come out here because he’d spent the past several months locking down his golf tournament in Las Vegas and he would be wrapping up a video shoot, coming into a lull in his ridiculously busy schedule. And really what could be more perfect than a nice black tie benefit followed by a little quality time back at my place? God, I love seeing him in a tux. The way it makes his shoulders look so broad and he’s so tall and handsome. And just something about undoing his tie is undeniably sexy to me.

 

But Dan ruined my best laid plans by changing the entire event and even though it wasn’t going to be the same I was still going to force Justin to come because I would need someone to suffer with me. But when Dan had asked me after a staff meeting a few weeks ago if I was bringing “that guy you’ve been seeing…what’s his name again?” I had decided against it. The way Dan had smiled at me and the oh-so-casual tone of his voice let me know exactly what was up. I was livid, not even daring to mention it to Justin lest he be forced to listen to a twenty minute diatribe on the state of affairs at the museum and how he being Mr. Sexyback was really kind of fucking with my life.

 

But I know the anger isn’t just over a coworker’s stupidity or at least not entirely. The thought of using Justin to advance my career, even if it was something as trivial as getting publicity for a stupid benefit, almost made me sick. The thought of someone else using Justin to advance their career was enough to send me into fucking orbit.

 

“You know I think you’re over worked Sky,” Connie says with a sigh and I glance back at her, my shoulders slumping.

 

“I think you may be right,” I say, resting my elbows on my desktop and rubbing my temples.

 

The past month had been one long day after another, spending late nights cataloging and recataloging inventory for the museum, researching the few new pieces we’d gotten in and trying to see how they would best fit in with our collection. But long days were nothing really. Justin wasn’t around so it wasn’t like I had anything to come home to and I love being at the museum, the smell of the gallery the sound of the marble floors beneath my feet and the hundreds upon hundreds of pieces of pottery and statues and paintings. I’m pretty sure that when I die, the Met will be my heaven. Well, without all the bureaucracy and fund raising and stupid mindless events that have nothing to do with Greek art and everything to do with having an excuse to party.

 

“Well,” Connie says with a sigh, pulling me out of my reverie as she stands from her seat and pulls on her witch’s hat, adjusting it with a flourish. “It’s late. I’m going home to get ready for this party-” she raises her voice over my grumble “-which will be fabulous!”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” I sigh but a smile is tugging at my lips. It may not be so bad. Connie has a way of making even the worst events tolerable.

 

“That’s my girl,” she says moving around her chair towards the door. “I will see you in-” she glances at her watch, “Whew an hour and a half. What are we still doing here? GO HOME WOMAN!” She exclaims and then bolts out the door, my laughter wafting after her.

 

I shake my head, looking back down at the paperwork in front of me. Just a few more pages and I’ll go home to get ready. Actually maybe I could just stay here and go as is. I look down at myself. A charcoal gray pencil skirt and pink chiffon blouse isn’t exactly Greek but I could almost guarantee that the majority of the costumes tonight would be inaccurate. Roman togas were so often confused with Greek-

 

A shrill scream cuts off my train of thought and my body tenses, leaning forward over my desk but all I can see out my door is the blank stretch of white wall and the marble floor. I stand as I hear footsteps approaching and my heart drops to my toes as Justin comes into view, smiling and waving down the hallway, calling “Good to see you too Connie.” He looks comfortable in a pair of worn jeans and a gray hooded sweatshirt, a weeks growth of beard covering his handsome face. He turns and breaks into a brilliant grin when he sees me, stepping into my office.

 

Before I can even process the action I’ve moved around the desk and my arms are circling his neck, pressing my body to his. His face buries itself in my hair as he wraps his arms around my waist, squeezing me tight. He inhales deeply and it rushes out against my neck and the four weeks he’s been away seems like it was an eternity. He steps back, his hands cupping my face and I hold still as he presses his mouth to mine softly. But I pull back with a giggle, rubbing my lips. He looks at me perplexed.

 

“Your beard,” I say, grinning at him because I can’t stop myself. “It tickles.”

 

“Oh,” he says with a chuckle, looking at the floor. “Yeah I need to shave.” He brings and hand up and scratches his scruffy cheek, looking around. “So this is where you work huh?”

 

“Yeah,” I say breathlessly, watching him step away from me to survey the wall of books on his left.

 

He’s here! Four long weeks and he’s finally here with me, making a slow circle around my office, leafing through the diagrams on my research table, fingertips brushing the coffee mug holding my pencils, just taking in the space. I want to follow him around the room, wrap my arms around his waist and move with him, just hold him close because four weeks is really too long to be away from him. I’m just so happy he’s here! But my happiness is soon overshadowed by confusion.

 

“What are you doing here?” I ask and he turns from the print of the Aphrodite of Cnidus that’s hanging near the window and chuckles as he moves towards me, pecking me on the forehead.

 

“Good to see you too, Sky,” he says as he falls into one of the chairs across from me and I give him a wry smile as I settle in my own chair.

 

“You know what I mean,” I say as he picks up a glass paperweight off my desk, examining it and setting it back down.

 

“Well I’m visiting you of course,” he says, snatching the silver picture frame at the corner of my desk and turning it towards him.

 

A small smile plays quickly over his lips as he takes in the image of the two of us at his place in LA. It was taken over the fourth of July on his patio, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist, his chin on my shoulder. His cheek his pressed to mine, his bottom lip pulled just slightly between his teeth, blue eyes wide as he struggles to get closer to me. I have the biggest smile on my face, laughing at his best friend, Trace who had taken the picture and just beaming the way I usually do when he’s near.

 

“I thought you were staying in LA through Sunday,” I say softly, watching him brush his finger tips over the glass before setting it back on my desk facing me again.

 

He blinks slowly back at me. “Aren’t we going to that party tonight?”

 

My jaw drops. “How do you know about that?”

 

He shrugs. “It was on my schedule.”

 

“How did it get there?” I exclaim and he looks perplexed by my annoyance.

 

“Well, I assume it’s there because you told me about it at some point and I told someone to put it on there,” he says his words slowing as my eyes narrow.

 

“No… no I didn’t,” I say my mind working. “Who told you about it?”

 

He shrugs again. “My publicist.” Then he frowns his face screwing up in confusion. “Which I thought was kinda weird.” He shakes his head and then grins at me. “Hey what kinda costume are you wearing?”

 

“What did she say?” I ask and he goes on as if he doesn’t hear me.

 

“Is it one of those skimpy little white things that just has the sheets over your…” he trails, cupping his hands in front of his chest and curling his fingers just slightly. I roll my eyes.

 

“When your publicist told you about the party what did she say?” I ask exasperated and he lets his hands fall to his knees, disappointed that I don’t want to play.

 

“I dunno,” he says with a sigh. “Just that there was a benefit at the Met and some guy had said it was a costume thing.” He shrugs again and then his face goes dark. “I don’t have to wear one of those leather skirts like Brad Pitt in Troy do I?”

 

“What guy?” I ask ignoring his question, getting more annoyed by the minute.

 

“Because really I don’t wanna do that,” he says, his face weary as he chuckles. “Could I just wear a tux?”

 

I sigh. “Justin…”

 

He smirks. “I know how you like me in a tux.”

 

“Justin!” I exclaim, slapping my hands on the desk and he jumps, looking at me wide eyed. “Focus for godsake what was the guy’s name?”

 

“What guy?” he asks, confused and clearly annoyed that I yelled at him.

 

I sigh, letting my head fall back for a moment before looking at him again. “The guy your publicist talked to. That scheduled you for this event.”

 

“Oh,” he says and then sighs, looking up to the ceiling and thinking, tugging his plush bottom lip between his teeth. “Don?” he asks looking at me. “Doug?”

 

My teeth clench, my hands balling into fists on the flat top of my desk. “Dan?”

 

He snaps his fingers pointing at me “Dan! Yeah that’s it. Dan.” He nods.

 

I stand abruptly from my seat and he looks up at me wide eyed as I grit out, “I’m going to kill him.”

 

“Whoa! Where are you going?” he asks as I round my desk, stomping towards the door.

 

I spin around to look at him. “I wasn’t the one who asked you to come to this Justin! I deliberately didn’t invite you because our new head of publicity had pressed me to get you to come!” I spit and he blinks back at me slowly.

 

“So?” he asks shrugging his shoulders and my jaw drops.

 

“So! You’re not a bargaining chip, Justin!” I yell, my hands gesturing out wildly in my frustration. “You’re my…my…”

 

He smirks. “Yes?”

 

“You know we really need a definition.” I spat crossing my arms over my chest and I feel my cheeks redden at my outburst.

 

He chuckles. “I’ll work on that.”

 

“I don’t like them using you,” I say quietly and he sighs, pulling himself to his feet to stand in front of me, his large hands smoothing up and down my biceps.

 

“It’s fine,” he says softly and the outrage comes back full force.

 

“It’s not fine!!!”

 

“Skylar, calm down!” he says chuckling, his fingers curling more firmly around my arms. “What are you gonna do? Go down there and yell at him?”

 

I shift, looking down at his shoes, mumbling, “Yes.”

 

“And what good would that do?” he asks, somewhat patronizingly but I know he’s right.

 

“None,” I grumble, heaving a sigh.

 

“Exactly,” he says nodding. “So just calm down.” His hands squeeze my arms and he smiles as I chance a peek up at him. It slowly morphs into a smirk. “You can test me on my columns or something. Take the edge off.”

 

I roll my eyes, my cheeks reddening at our little inside joke. “Oh yeah I’ll jump right on that.”

 

He growls. “Mmm would you?”

 

I squeal as he grabs my hips, pulling me against him, his lips claiming mine and there is nothing else, just him and his mouth on mine, just the feel of his hair threaded through my fingers, of his body pressed against me. His hand rests on my lower back, tugging me closer to him and I feel his nails dig in just slightly before he pulls back, leaving me breathless.

 

His eyes are dark with lust as he brings his hand up to my face, brushing his finger tips across my cheekbone. He licks his lips as he looks past me, tilting his chin upward in a quick motioning gesture.

 

“Close the door.”

 

My stomach drops to my toes as my eyes widen, my jaw dropping. He can’t be serious. He smirks at me, his finger hooking under my chin to nudge it shut, his thumb smudging my bottom lip as his tongue snakes out to lick his. I look back at the open door, my heart beat increasing in both volume and frequency. I turn back to face him and he’s looking at me seriously, his eyes dark with lust and he gives a slight nod towards the door again. I take a shaky breath as I turn away from him, feeling his eyes still roving over me like a caress, my heart pounding against my ribcage.

 

My fingers grip the wood, taking a quick peek down the hall and finding it utterly deserted. I’m the only person that ever stays this late. But the gallery is just around the corner… I shiver as I close the door slowly, the snap of the latch falling into place echoing in the near silent room. I smooth my hand down the dark wood of the door preparing to turn when Justin’s voice stops me.

 

“Lock it, Skylar.”

 

I gasp as a full body tremor shakes through me and how he can get me wet with one sentence still amazes me to this day. I turn and find him leaning against the front of my desk, his hands resting against the edge, feet crossed at the ankles. He smirks at me, his eyes roving from the heels he bought me (Jimmy somethings. I never can remember) up my legs and over my hips, lingering a little at my breasts before breaking into a grin as he reaches my face.

 

“Why Miss McKibbons,” he says jovially and I giggle quirking an eyebrow at him. “So lovely to see you. My name is Justin Timberlake and I’m the head of the Greek Arts department here at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

 

I cough out a disbelieving laugh and he grins at me. “Oh are you now?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and he nods.

 

“It’s Halloween go with it,” he whispers, leaning over in conference, giving me a quick wink before straightening again.

 

“Oh well okay then,” I say clearing my throat. “You’re…you’re very underdressed for a man of your stature…” I bite my lip trying to hide my smile.

 

“Casual Friday,” he grins and I laugh, nodding my head in concession.

 

“Alright alright,” I say, taking a step forward and his grin widens. “If you’re the curator what does that make me?” I ask, taking a cautious step around the chairs and he bites his lip, eyeing me predatorily.

 

“My protégé of course.”

 

My eyebrows race to my hairline. “Oh really.”

 

He grins nodding. “My…” he smirks. “my student if you will.”

 

I gasp. “Justin!”

 

He chuckles devilishly, reaching for my waist and pulling me against him. I giggle, my hands smoothing over his shoulders as he growls softly, fingers tugging up the tails of my blouse, searching for my skin. I lean in tentatively, weary of his beard tickling me again but all thought is quickly gone when his mouth presses to mine. His lips are soft and smooth, sliding against mine perfectly, parting just slightly to trace my bottom lip with his tongue before retreating again. I growl slightly as he kisses the corner of my mouth and then along my jaw, his tongue whipping hotly against my skin. I pant as his hands grow more bold, slipping under my blouse and flattening against my back, tracing the hooks of my bra teasingly.

 

My fingers delve into his hair as he nips at my neck, pulling me more firmly against him, his hips grinding up into mine. I let my head loll to the side before I look down and watch him begin to unbutton my blouse impatiently, his mouth parted slightly, panting as my skin is revealed.

 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I say breathlessly as he presses hot dry kisses to the tops of my breasts and my body betrays my mouth, pressing my hips harder into his.

 

“What did I say about you saying stuff like that,” he mumbles against my skin, his fingers bunching the wool of my skirt up my thighs and he grins when he feels the netting of my hose turn to lace and then he feels the heat of my bare thighs.

 

I moan softly as his cool finger tips smooth around the back of my legs, skimming higher towards my panties. He presses his lips to my throat, panting and then moaning as he grabs handfuls of my ass, pulling me hard against his lap. I bite my lip, wiggling against him, working the bulge in the front of his jeans, my hands tugging wickedly at his hair as his lips send jolts of pleasure down to my center.

 

“This is so wrong Jus,” I breathe, letting my head hang back and he pulls back.

 

“What did I tell you about saying that,” he growls, lifting me and I squeal as he spins us hoisting me up onto the desktop, things toppling over, paper shifting to the floor. “You’ve said that to me enough for one life time.”

 

He nips at my bottom lip, smirking at my blush as his fingers walk up my thighs, reaching for the elastic of my underwear. I bite my lip, bracing my arms against the desk to lift my weight so he can tug them down my legs, my heart racing as I eye the door. This is so wrong.

 

I’m panting as his fingers smooth up my legs, the dull sensation of his touch through the mesh of my stockings is so teasing but the gratification when I can feel his bare touch against my inner thigh makes the wait worthwhile. I gasp as he traces one finger through my wetness, testing my readiness and he grins at his findings, kissing me deeply as he nudges my legs further apart moving to stand between them.

 

I shift restlessly, my hands gathering in the cotton of his hoodie pushing it up, pawing for his skin. I gasp as the pad of his thumb rubs soft circles over my clit, my hands fumbling with his belt buckle impatiently.

 

“Justin,” I whimper as he slips one long finger into me, the pleasure making my brain fuzzy and I forget how to undo his pants, my hands resting on his hips.

 

He nibbles softly at my neck, smoothing my blouse off one shoulder, his lips smudging across my shoulder as he works his finger in and out slowly, raising goosebumps on my skin. He hums softly and I feel him smirk against me as my mouth falls open, a tiny whimper pulling from my throat as dull waves of pleasure roll through me. It’s been so long since he’s touched me, so long since I’ve seen him. Every touch is magnified, his every breath gusts against my sweat dampened skin setting me on fire. I can’t get enough of him.

 

“Justin,” I whine again, tugging at his pants restlessly and he shushes me.

 

“No need to be impatient Miss McKibbons,” he drawls and my growl of frustration melts into a moan as his thumb presses harder against my clit. “We’ll get you ready for your board review.”

 

I sigh my hands smoothing against the slight dip of his waist. “We are not doing the student/teacher thing Justin,” I scold but I choke on my breath as he adds another finger, curling them inside me in a come hither motion that makes my legs tremble.

 

“We’re not?” he asks, stroking me slowly and I can’t speak, my voice stuck in the back of my throat as he smirks at me.

 

I pant tugging his pants undone, forcing down his zipper and my fingers brush against the cotton of his boxers. He shivers, his fingers stopping as my hand slips beneath the waistband, biting my lip at the feel of him warm and heavy against my palm. He lets out a quiet moan as I give him a gentle squeeze, pressing my lips to his throat.

 

“Sky,” he pants as I stroke him slowly from base to tip, savoring the taste of his skin under my lips and I come back to some sort of coherency.

 

“Do you really wanna play games right now Justin?” I ask and his knees tremble as my thumb swipes slowly back and forth over the head of his cock.

 

“No,” he growls, his fingers leaving me to grip my thighs, ripping me forward and I squeal at his roughness, panting as I watch him shove his jeans and boxers to the floor. Four weeks is a long time for him too.

 

My hands are trembling as I shove his hoodie up over his head along with the t-shirt underneath, suddenly desperate for more of his skin and he discards them impatiently before he forces my legs open wider, exposing me completely to him. My arms curl under his, pulling him closer, biting at his shoulder as he rubs himself against me, relishing in the shiver that shakes through him.

 

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you on a desk,” he pants and I moan, trying to tug him closer to me, to get him inside me but he’s content to tease me for now, pressing the tip of his dick against my clit.

 

“Oh really?” I ask, curling my hands against his shoulder blades and dragging my nails down, eliciting a full body shiver from him, his eyes fluttering closed as he tries to steady himself against me, his Adam’s apple bobbling as he swallows hard.

 

“Yeah,” he pants breathlessly, his nose nuzzling against mine affectionately and then he smirks. “It is the ultimate student/teacher fantasy after all…”

 

My gasp of shock melts into a deep moan of pleasure as he penetrates me finally, my hands pressing hard against his shoulder blades as my head falls back in pleasure. He takes the opportunity to pepper soft dry kisses along my throat and shoulders, tugging my legs around his waist before pressing his hands to the desk top for leverage.

 

He draws back slowly and then presses back in again and I moan, my nails marring his perfect skin, listening to him pant against my ear. He starts a steady rhythm that has me clutching him for support, my stomach burning as his fingertips dig into my thighs. He moans quietly into my hair, pulling my legs more firmly around his waist and when I cross my ankles at his lower back he growls as the heels of my pumps press against his ass.

 

His mouth finds mine, stealing my breath as he drags in and out of me, our tongues battling against one another, swallowing each others breathy moans and quiet whimpers. I murmur incoherently against his lips, my brain so saturated with pleasure that I can barely breathe.

 

“Justin,” I pant, my hands smoothing up and down his back and he shivers, his muscles tensing as his rhythm stutters.

 

“Say it again,” he moans, his voice pulled from deep in his chest and I gasp as a heavy tremor of pleasure passes through me. God his voice…

 

“Justin,” I moan again, my head falling back, my eyes sinking closed.

 

I squeal as he growls, his arms hooking under my knees before bracing his hands against the edge of the desk again, my knees hooking over his elbows and he drives into me forcefully, causing me to cry out against his neck, the pleasure so intense it almost hurts. His next thrust is gentler but still deep, hitting that spot inside me only he can really reach and I see stars, moaning as my hands grip his shoulders for support. He grunts, his fingers curling in against the wood trying to hold on to something and I can hear him gritting his teeth.

 

“Oh fuck Sky,” he chokes out, lifting one hand from the desktop to press against my lower back, trying to pull me closer still.

 

His movement causes my leg to hike up just a little higher and the effect is staggering, my vision blurring, my entire body beginning to tremble. My arms hook under his again, crushing our chests together as my body sucks at him, fully prepared to clamp down. The feeling steals his breath and his fingers curl against my back, his short nails raising welts on my skin. My back arches, my teeth sinking into his shoulder so as not to scream, my vision blooming white as pleasure flows through my veins like lava. My body clamps on him hard and he lets out a choked sob muffled by my hair. He struggles to untangle his arms from my legs, winding them around my back and snatching me hard against his chest, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe. With just two more pounding thrusts he comes violently, his face pressed hard against my shoulder to muffle the sound and I shiver as I feel him spill into me.

 

My entire body trembles, my muscles weak and sore from tensing so hard so fast. Justin’s knees are shaking so violently I fear he may slip to the ground. My arms tighten around him for support, clutching his back damp with sweat. His forehead rests against my shoulder, his breath panting against my collar bone and I turn my head to press my lips to his ear. I feel him smile against my skin, pressing soft dry kisses to the crook of my neck as my hand comes up to run through his curls.

 

He pulls back just slightly, his grinning face coming into view and he kisses me, rubbing is mouth with mine and I pull back with a giggle.

 

“Your beard,” I say reaching up to rub my lips and he grins, nudging my hand out of the way to run his thumb along my bottom lip.

 

“I’ll shave,” he says and my eyebrows crease.

 

“You don’t have to,” I say and he shakes his head.

 

“I’d rather kiss you than have a beard,” he says, giving me another quick kiss before stepping back, reaching down to pull up his pants and boxers.

 

I sigh, pushing a strand of hair back from my face as I slip off the edge of the desk, my legs wobbling unsteadily. I adjust my skirt down to a more appropriate length, straightening my blouse and buttoning it again. I glance around the floor.

 

“Where is my underwear?” I mutter to myself and Justin smirks, tugging his shirt back over his head. “Do you see them?”

I’m shoving the tails of my blouse into the waist of my skirt as I bend part way, glancing around my desk and the chairs. Where the hell are they? That’s all I need is for someone to come in here and find my damn underwear on the floor. I hear Justin clear his throat and I turn to see a scrap of baby pink silk dangling from his index finger and a very smug look on his face. I give him a withering look reaching for them but he snatches them back, examining them.

 

“Justin…” I say warningly but he ignores me.

 

“Where’d you get these?” he asks, examining the little black bows on the front and the mini lace trim.

 

“Why I believe you bought them,” I say, reaching forward but he snatches them back again and shoves them in his pocket grinning. “Justin…”

 

“What?” he asks, his voice jumping an octave as he bends down to grab his hoodie, tugging it over his head.

 

I shift my feet uncomfortably, feeling very naked in my proper office in one of the most prestigious museums in the world…where I just fucked my…my…Justin on the desk. I shake my head. The things he talks me in to…

 

“Justin I can’t go walking around without underwear,” I whisper and he chuckles, adjusting his fuzzy curls.

 

He leans in and whispers mockingly, “It’s okay I won’t tell anyone.”

 

“You’re a brat,” I say scowling and he grins cheekily.

 

“You love me,” he says, reaching out and snaking a hand around my waist. “And besides,” he says, his voice low as his head dips to nibble at the side of my neck. “I was just going to take them off again when we got home anyway.”

 

I shiver. That’s one thing I don’t mind about Justin being away for long periods of time. When he comes back…I bite my lip, scenarios playing through my head in flashes, memories and fantasies all racing by in a quick blur as his tongue dots my skin. My fingernails dig into his biceps pushing him back lest I just ask him to hoist me up on the desk again.

 

“Just lemme get my bag,” I say softly, placing a hand on his chest and he nods, releasing me to go behind my desk, grabbing my tote bag and shoving things on my desk into it.

 

I feel myself blush as I set back my pencil holder that was knocked over and move all of the items that had been shoved back during our lust filled tryst. As I pick up an article on Greek kuros I unearth the stupid invitation to the costume party I’m supposed to attend in – I check my watch, my eyes widening – thirty minutes.

 

“We’ve gotta hurry,” I say shouldering my bag hurriedly and Justin smirks, slipping his hands in his pockets.

 

“Gotta have me right now do ya?” he asks cheekily, swaggering after me as I step out the door of my office

 

I roll my eyes at him. “Yes, oh yes that is so totally it,” I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm as I shut the door behind him, inserting the key to lock it. “I have a half hour to get back to my apartment, change and get back here,” I sigh and I feel his arms snake around my waist.

 

“Nah baby I’m pretty sure you just need it again right now,” he whispers in my ear before pulling back grinning, his lips pressing a quick kiss to my temple and I can’t help the giddy grin that spreads across my face.

 

He pulls back smiling widely as he slings his arm around my shoulders, tugging me close to him as we walk down the hallway. I slip my arm around his waist, letting my head rest against his shoulder for a second before sighing and steeling myself to see what the hell they’ve done to my gallery. We turn the corner and I gasp, seeing the large black speakers mingling with marble statues, timeless pieces of art with a backdrop of modern plasticity and technology. It looks fucking ridiculous. Lime green, hot pink and caution yellow sashes hang from ceiling to floor and large stylized columns set in what I assume is supposed to be the shape of the Parthenon looms large against the back of the room, a DJ booth set up in front of it. It looks like the 80’s exploded.

 

“It looks like the 80’s threw up in here,” Justin says and I look up at him to see his brow creased in a frown and before I can stop myself I reach up on my tip toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. He looks down at me bewildered.

 

“I love you,” I say and he laughs that deep throaty sound that I love, his head tipping back for an instant before looking at me again.

 

“I lo-”

 

“Skylar!”

 

I look up and see none other than Dan Hunzinger, the new head of publicity and my newly sworn enemy making a beeline for us, his dark blue toga billowing out behind him. I narrow my eyes at the Roman draping of it, my arm tightening around Justin’s waist protectively. He stands straighter as Dan approaches, pulling his face into a look of casual boredom as his arm falls from around my shoulder, shoving both hands in his pockets. I glance at him perplexed.

 

“Dan!” I say, plastering a smile on my face as he comes to a halt directly in front of us, grinning like it was his birthday, glancing at Justin with a smug satisfaction. I eye him up and down and I can’t resist. “Going to a funeral?”

 

Dan looks at me perplexed, glancing nervously at Justin who is looking around the room uninterestedly and I briefly wonder what he’s doing.

 

“A funeral?” Dan asks, his eyes going from me to Justin and back again one more time.

 

“Yes,” I say smiling, pausing before I add. “You are wearing the Toga Pulla which was reserved for periods of mourning and sadness.”

 

He shifts looking down at himself. “Oh…I had no idea.”

 

I can’t help but grin, relishing in it as I reply, “Obviously.” Justin has to bite his lip to keep from smiling.

 

“This your boyfriend?” Dan asks with a grin, finally looking at Justin full on and I cringe. I hate that word.

 

Justin turns his eyes to Dan looking at him blankly and this is the first time I’ve ever seen him not smile immediately and offer his hand. Instead he responds. “We don’t define ourselves in those terms. We’re together if that’s what you mean…” and then he turns his eyes back to the gallery, looking utterly and completely bored. What the hell is he doing?

 

“Oh..erm…well,” Dan stutters as he turns back to me, smiling sheepishly and I press my lips together shifting awkwardly. “You’re…you’re coming to the event, yes? It’s gonna be a lot of fun!”

 

“Nah,” Justin says shrugging indifferently and Dan looks alarmed. It takes everything in me not to laugh.

 

“Oh I’m sure Skylar would want you to come with her!” Dan says cheerily and Justin’s eyes meet his, a smug smile pulling at his lips and I feel his hand settle on my lower back.

 

“I think I know better than you what Skylar wants,” he replies and I marvel at the way he can say something that rude and not sound like a complete asshole.

 

Dan shifts. “Yes… of course…well… it would be great for the museum. This is one of our smaller benefits but the proceeds go directly to Skylar’s department.”

 

His body tenses, his fingers pressing into my back and I can feel the shift in his mood. Apparently he doesn’t take too kindly to anyone using me to persuade him into doing something.

 

“Really?” he asks his voice light. “How much does it usually take in?”

 

“Oh around twenty five thousand,” Dan says dismissively and there’s no way this event would bring in twenty-five grand. Fifteen was ambitious. “But with you attending we may very well get it up to thirty!”

 

Justin raises his eyebrows and a thoughtful look covers his face. “What do you say I write you a check for fifty grand and call it a day?”

 

Dan and mine’s mouths both fall open, looking up at Justin dumbfounded and he smiles reaching into his back pocket. I stutter as he flips open his check book, patting his pockets for a pen. He can’t be serious.

 

“Should I just make it out to Sky?” he asks, dipping his hand into his front pocket and feeling around then frowning. “Do you have a pen darlin’?” he asks me softly.

 

“Justin,” I hiss, tugging on his arm. “That’s not necessary.”

 

“Come on anything to keep me from having to go to this,” he says, adding a brilliant smile at the end to soothe the sting of his words. Dan doesn’t really seem to notice, his jaw still hanging open. “Sky? Pen?”

 

I huff as I root around in my purse for a pen. He can’t honestly be serious. Fifty thousand dollars to get out of a party. He should know I wouldn’t make him go. He has to know that. Although I must admit Dan’s face is priceless. And it’s not like the department can’t use the money.

 

“Thanks sugar,” he grins as I hand him a pen and I nudge him with my elbow. Sugar? Now he’s just being silly. He nudges me back as he scribbles the amount on the check.

 

“Make it to the museum Justin!” I say as he makes the S of my name and he chuckles, scribbling it out.

 

“Oops sorry,” he says and then signs with a flourish, ripping the check from his booklet. “There ya go.” He says handing it to Dan who takes it, staring down at it dumbfounded. “Have fun at the party!”

 

He pats Dan hard on the shoulder before grabbing my hand and tugging me after him, leaving Dan standing alone, still staring at the check in wonder. As soon as we are out of the main hall I smack him hard on the arm. He jumps wincing.

 

“Ow!” he exclaims, rubbing it with his free hand and scowling.

 

“What the hell was that?” I ask and he grins.

 

“Just having a little fun that’s all,” he shrugs smirking. “Little trick or treat action for Halloween.”

 

“Trick or treat?” I ask, looking at him perplexed and he nods.

 

“Yeah I tricked him and it was a treat,” he says and then laughs at his own absurdity. I shake my head and I look at him wide eyed.

 

“You just spent fifty grand to have fun,” I say, eyeing him bemusedly and he grins.

 

“I’ve spent more than that to have fun before,” he replies mysteriously, wiggling his eyebrows and I scoff. “And besides you don’t like him. What’s the harm in fuckin with him a little?”

 

“Oh yeah,” I say remembering and then smacking him again and he winces scowling deeply at me. “That was for being an asshole.”

 

“WHAT?” he asks but can’t hold back his laugh at the end. “You don’t like him! And I don’t either…wearing a Roman toga to a Greek party.” He scoffs and my jaw drops, stopping dead in my tracks.

 

Did he just…was he just able to tell the difference between a Greek and Roman toga? My stomach curls with want and I’m slightly horrified at the fact that him being able to distinguish toga styles just turned me on. He looks back over his shoulder at me, a smirk curling on his lips.

 

“That was good huh?” he asks, nodding and I chuckle to myself, stepping forward to stand next to him again.

 

“Yes,” I say nodding, chewing on my bottom lip absently. I wonder how late I can be to this party…

 

“I’m gonna get laid for that later aren’t I?” he asks smugly as we make our way out of the gallery hall and into the main lobby that exits onto Fifth Avenue.

 

I can’t help but giggle. “Yes…yes you are.”

 

He turns to me, stopping before we exit the museum, his bottom lip protruding in a pout. “You don’t really have to go to that party do you?” he asks and I sigh.

 

“It’s for my department Justin,” I say and his pout deepens. I smile reaching up to touch his face because even under the beard I can see the seventeen year old boy he used to be.

 

“I just paid fifty thousand dollars. Aren’t I entitled to some kind of perk…” he asks, his arms slipping around my waist and nuzzling his nose against mine, “like you spending the night in bed with me instead of at some party?”

 

I pull back slightly. “Is that why you did it? To get me out of the party?”

 

“No,” he says shifting. “Not really…I mean…erm…”

 

A smile pulls at my lips, letting him know I’m not mad at him just amused. “Did you try to buy me?”

 

He smirks, lowering his voice. “Would that turn you on?” He wiggles his eyebrows and I smack his chest laughing.

 

“Justin!”

 

“What! I didn’t know if we were ready to move on from the student/teacher thing,” he says shrugging, barely containing his grin.

 

“Justin!” I gasp, scandalized as I look around to see if anyone has heard but the hall is deserted.

 

“You know actually I kinda liked it,” he says, pulling me close again and his hands smooth quickly over my ass, reminding me once again that he has my underwear in his pocket.

 

“You…I…stop,” I say, blushing furiously and he grins widely at me, clearly enjoying my unease.

 

“Now Miss McKibbons,” he says straightening his shoulders as he puts on a cool air. “As head of the Greek department I’m telling you that there is no need to go to this ridiculous event. You’re time will be better spent taking me back to your place and…” his eyes bore into mine, “studying.”

 

I giggle at his daring and I must admit his alternative sounds much more appealing. I bite my lip glancing back down the hall and from here you can’t really see the monstrosity in the main gallery, a wide pink sash shielding the entrance from view. All I really see are statues and pottery and reliefs and that is what I work for. That’s what the money for this event is going towards, my department’s ability to keep these works and study them and obtain more. I really do have to be there.

 

“I have to Jus,” I say softly, placing hand on his chest and the playfulness fades from his eyes as he nods sadly, watching his shoes scuff the floor. “It shouldn’t last long,” I add, cupping his face in my hand and his blue eyes meet mine and I know he understands. He’s the last person to complain about putting your career first.

 

“Fine, I’ll just wait for you then,” he says, with a sigh before pulling his face into a Cheshire grin as he pushes the door open for me, letting in the bitter autumn chill. “Just be prepared to be tested on your columns when you get back... I know this really great mnemonic device…”