Off the Clock Read online

  PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF RONI LOREN

  “Hot and romantic, with an edge of suspense.”

  —Shayla Black, New York Times bestselling author of Wicked for You

  “Unique and emotional.”

  —USA Today

  “A mix of blistering (and kinky) sexuality, emotional angst, and dangerous suspense.”

  —Romance Novel News

  “A must-read!”

  —Nocturne Reads

  “[A] steamy, sexy yet emotionally gripping story.”

  —Julie Cross, New York Times bestselling author of the Tempest novels

  “I dare you to even attempt to put it down.”

  —Cassandra Carr, author of Burning Love

  “An angsty backstory made beautiful by a hero who doesn’t know how perfect he is. Don’t miss this Ranch treat!”

  —Carly Phillips, New York Times bestselling author

  “Steamy, occasionally shocking, and relentlessly intense, this book isn’t for the faint of heart.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Loren does an incredible job portraying the BDSM lifestyle in a sexy and romantic way . . . Loren should definitely be put on the must-read list.”

  —The Book Pushers

  “Like a roller-coaster ride . . . When you hit the last page, you say, ‘Let’s ride it again.’”

  —Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews

  “Roni Loren’s books are masterful, story-driven, sensual, and very erotic . . . Definitely one of my have-to-get-as-soon-as-possible series!”

  —Under the Covers Book Blog

  TITLES BY RONI LOREN

  Crash Into You

  Melt Into You

  Fall Into You

  Not Until You

  Caught Up in You

  Need You Tonight

  Nothing Between Us

  Call on Me

  Off the Clock

  NOVELLAS

  Still Into You

  Forever Starts Tonight

  Nice Girls Don’t Ride

  Yours All Along

  Break Me Down

  An imprint of Penguin Random House

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

  This book is an original publication of Penguin Random House.

  Copyright © 2016 by Roni Loren.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  BERKLEY® is a registered trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  For more information about the Penguin Group, visit penguin.com.

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-18418-3

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Loren, Roni.

  Off the clock / Roni Loren. — Berkley trade paperback edition.

  pages ; cm

  ISBN 978-0-425-27854-3 (paperback)

  I. Title.

  PS3612.O764O34 2016

  813'.6—dc23

  2015031568

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley trade paperback edition / January 2016

  Cover art: Leisure Legs © Kichigan / Shutterstock.

  Cover design by Diana Kolsky.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  To my family, always

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  There are so many people behind the scenes that help these books happen. I could never thank them enough.

  Donnie, for your love and laughter and unflagging support.

  Kidlet, for being awesome.

  Mom, for listening to me ramble about writing problems even though most of the time I’m probably not making any sense at all.

  De, for always having full confidence in me no matter what.

  Julie Cross, Dawn Alexander, and Jamie Wesley, for being my “friends at the office” while I was writing this book. Thank you for the venting sessions, the celebrating, and the gossiping.

  My agent, Sara Megibow, for always championing my books and for doing power reads when I’m having book panic attacks.

  My editor, Kate Seaver, for being such a pleasure to work with and for loving these books.

  Taylor Lunsford, for beta reading, being honest, and for saying, “What about Eli?” when I was brainstorming the short story.

  And always, always, to my readers, for being fearless romantics, for reading my books, and for being the awesome people that you are.

  Thank you!

  CONTENTS

  Praise for the Novels of Roni Loren

  Titles by Roni Loren

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  The Pleasure Principle: The human instinct to seek pleasure and avoid pain.

  One is very crazy when in love.

  —SIGMUND FREUD

  1

  Then

  “I’m going to wrap my fingers in your hair and slide my other hand up your thigh. You have to be quiet for me. We can’t let anyone know.”

  Marin Rush paused in the dark hallway of Harker Hall, her tennis shoes going silent on the shiny linoleum and the green Exit signs humming softly in the background. She didn’t dare move. She’d been on the way to grab a soda and a snack out of the vending machine. Her caffeine supply had run low and watching participants snore in the sleep lab wasn’t exactly stimulating stuff. But that silk-smooth male voice had hit her like a thunderclap, waking up every sense that had gone dull with exhaustion.

  She’d assumed she was the only one left in the psychology building at this hour besides the two study subjects in the sleep lab. It was spring break and the classrooms and labs were supposed to be locked up—all except the one she was working in. That’s what the girl she was filling in for this week had told her. But there was no mistaking the male voice as it drifted into the hallway.

  “I bet you’d like being fucked up against the wall. My cock pumping in you hard and fast.”

  Holy. Shit. Marin pressed her lips together. Obviously two other people thought they were alone, too. Had students snuck into the building to get it on? Or maybe it was one of the professors. Oh, God, please don’t let it be a professor. She should turn around right now and go back to Profe
ssor Roberts’s office. Last thing she needed was to see one of her teachers in some compromising position. She would die of mortification.

  But instead of backing up, she found herself tilting her head to isolate where the voice was coming from, and her feet moved forward a few steps.

  “Yeah, you like that. I know. I bet you’re wet for me right now just thinking about how it would feel. Maybe I should check. Keep your hands against the wall.”

  A hot shiver zipped through Marin, making every part of her hyperaware.

  “I’m so hard for you. Can you feel how much I want you?” That voice was like velvet against Marin’s skin. She closed her eyes, imagining the picture the stranger was painting—some hot guy behind her, pinning her to the wall, his erection rubbing against her. She’d never been in that situation, but her body sure knew how to react to the idea. Her hand drifted up to her neck and pressed against her throat, her pulse beating like hummingbird wings beneath her fingertips.

  She waited with held breath to hear the woman’s response, but no voice answered the man’s question. Can you feel how much I want you? he’d asked. And hell if Marin wasn’t dying to know. She strained to hear.

  “I tug your panties off and trail my hand up your thighs until I can feel your hot, slick . . .”

  Marin braced her other hand against the wall and leaned so far forward that one more inch would’ve sent her toppling over. Your hot . . .

  “Goddammit. Motherfucker.”

  The curse snapped Marin out of the spell she’d fallen into, and she straightened instantly, her face hot and her heartbeat pounding in places it shouldn’t be. There was a groaning squeak of an office chair and another slew of colorful swearing.

  Whoever had been saying the dirty things had changed his tone of voice and now sounded ten kinds of annoyed. A wadded-up ball of paper came flying out of an open doorway a few yards down. She followed the arc and watched the paper land on the floor. Only then did she notice there were three others like it already littering the hallway.

  Lamplight shifted on the pale linoleum as if the person inside the office was moving around, and Marin flattened herself against the wall, trying to make herself one with it. Please don’t come out. Please don’t come out. The silent prayer whispered through her as she counted the doors between her and the mystery voice, mentally labeling each one. When she realized it was one of the offices they let the Ph.D. students use and not a professor’s, she let out a breath.

  Either way, she had no intention of alerting her hall mate that he wasn’t alone. But at least she could stop worrying she’d gotten all fevered over one of her professors. Now she just had to figure out how to get past the damn door without letting him see her. She’d gotten used to skipping meals to save money since starting college a few months ago. But she wasn’t going to make it through the next two hours of data entry and sleep monitoring if she didn’t get some caffeine. No wonder none of the upperclassmen had wanted to fill in during break.

  Marin’s gaze slid over to the stairwell. If she stayed on the other side of the hall in the shadows, she could probably sneak by unnoticed. She moved to the right side wall and crept forward on quiet feet. But as soon as she got within a few steps of the shaft of light coming from the occupied room, a large shadow blotted it into darkness.

  She’d been so focused on that beam of light that it took her a moment to register what had happened. She froze and her gaze hopped upward, landing on the guy who filled the doorway. No, not just any guy, a very familiar guy. Tall and lean and effortlessly disheveled. Everything inside her went on alert. Oh, God, not him.

  He had his hand braced on the doorjamb, and his expression was as surprised as hers probably was. “What the hell?”

  “I—” She could already feel her face heating and her throat closing—some bizarre, instant response she seemed to have to this man. She’d spent way too many hours in the back of her Intro to Human Sexuality class memorizing each little detail of Donovan West. Well, his profile, really. And his walk. And the way his shoulders filled out his T-shirts. As a teaching assistant, he usually only stopped in at the beginning of class to bring Professor Paxton papers or something. But each time he walked in now, it was like some bat signal for her body to go haywire.

  It’d started with the day he’d had to take over the lecture when Professor Paxton was sick. He’d talked about arousal and the physical mechanics of that process. It was technical. He’d been wearing a T-shirt that read Sometimes I Feel Like a Total Freud. It shouldn’t have been sexy. But Lord, it’d been one of the hottest experiences of her life. He’d talked with his hands a lot and had obviously been a little nervous to be in front of the class. But at the same time, he’d been so confident in the information, had answered questions with all this enthusiasm. Marin hadn’t heard a word in the rest of her classes that day for all the fantasizing she’d been doing.

  But now she was staring. And blushing. And generally looking like an idiot. Yay.

  She turned fully toward him and cleared her throat, trying to form some kind of non-weird response. But when her gaze quickly traveled over him again, all semblance of language left her. Oh, shit. She tried to drag her focus back to his face and cement it there. His very handsome face—a shadow of stubble, bright blue eyes, hair that fell a little too long around the ears. Lips that she’d thought way too much about. All good. All great.

  But despite the nice view, she couldn’t ignore the thing in the bottom edge of her vision, the thing that had caught her attention on that quick once-over. The hard outline in his jeans screamed at her to stare—to analyze, to burn the picture into her brain. The need to look warred with embarrassment. The latter finally won and her cheeks flared even hotter. She adjusted her glasses. “Uh, yeah, hi. Sorry. I thought I was alone in the building. Didn’t mean to interrupt . . . whatever.”

  He stared at her for a second, his brows knitting. “Interrupt?”

  Goddammit, her gaze flicked there again. The view was like a siren song she couldn’t ignore. Massive erection, dead ahead! She glanced away. But not quick enough for him not to notice.

  “Ah, shit.” He stepped behind the doorway and hid his bottom half. “Sorry. It’s, uh . . . not what it looks like.”

  She snorted, an involuntary, nervous, half-choking noise that seemed to echo in the cavernous hallway. Really smooth. She tried to force some kind of wit past the awkwardness that was overtaking her. “Ohh-kay. If you say so.”

  He laughed, this deep chuckle that seemed to come straight out of his chest and fill the space between them with warmth. Lord, even his laugh was sexy. So not fair.

  “Well, okay, it is that. But why it’s there is just an occupational hazard.”

  His laugh and easy tone settled her some. Or maybe it was the fact that he was obviously feeling awkward, too. “Occupational hazard? Must be more interesting than the sleep lab.”

  He jabbed a thumb toward the office. “It is. Sexuality department. I’m working on my dissertation under Professor Paxton.”

  She could tell he didn’t recognize her from class. Not surprising since she sat in the back of the large stadium-style room and tried to be as invisible as possible. Plus, she was wearing her glasses tonight. “I’m with Professor Roberts. I’m monitoring the sleep study tonight.”

  “Oh, right on. I didn’t realize he’d taken on another grad student. I’m Donovan, by the way.”

  I know.

  “Mari.” The nickname rolled off her lips. No one called her that anymore. But she knew he probably graded her papers, and the name Marin wasn’t all that common. She forced a small smile, not correcting him that she was about as far from a grad student as she could get. She wanted to be one. Would be one day if she could figure out how to afford it. She’d managed to test out of two semesters of classes, but high IQ or not, that dream was still a long way off—a point of light at the end of a very long, twisting tunnel.

  Marin shifted on her feet. “I was heading to get a Coke so that I don�
��t fall asleep from doing data entry and watching people snore. You need anything?”

  “A Coke?” He glanced down the hall. “Don’t waste a buck fifty on the vending machine. I’ve got a mini-fridge in here. You can come in and grab whatever you want.”

  Are you an option? I’d like to grab you. The errant thought made her bite her lips together so none of those words would accidentally slip out. She had no idea where this side of herself was coming from. Not that she’d really know what to do after she grabbed Donovan anyway. This was a twentysomething-year-old man, not one of the few boys she’d awkwardly made out with in high school. This was a guy who’d know how to do all those things she’d only read about in books.

  “No, that’s okay, I mean . . .” She shifted her gaze away, willing her face not to go red again.

  He caught her meaning and laughed. “Oh, right. Sorry. Yes, you should probably avoid strange men with erections who invite you inside for a drink. Good safety plan, Mari.” He lifted his hands and stepped back fully into the doorway, the pronounced outline in his pants gone. “But I promise, you’re all good now. You just caught me at an . . . unfortunate moment. And now I’m going to bribe you with free soda so that you don’t tell the other grads in the department about what you saw. I keep these late hours and work through holidays to avoid that kind of torture.”

  He gave her a tilted smile that made something flutter in her chest. She should probably head straight back to the office she was supposed to be working in. He was older. Kind of her teacher. If he found out she was one of Pax’s students, he’d probably freak out that she’d seen him like this. But the chance to spend a few minutes with him was too tempting to pass up.

  Plus, the way he was looking at her settled something inside her. Usually she shut down around guys. Being jerked around from school to school on her mom’s whims hadn’t left her with much time to develop savvy when it came to these things. But something about Donovan made her want to step forward instead of run away. “Yeah, okay. Free is good.”

  “Cool.” His face brightened. Maybe he’d been as lonely and bored tonight as she had been. He bent over and picked up the papers he’d thrown into the hallway and then swept a hand in front of him. “Welcome to my personal hell. The fridge is in the back corner.”