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“I wouldn’t care,” Andy muttered, feeling the heat of Miranda’s body under her. “But it’s not me who was dangling the employee handbook over my head, so.”
“Because you were kissing Emily,” Miranda protested. Andy scrunched her nose, kissing Miranda again, this time quicker.
“And now I’m kissing you, so it all evens out,” she muttered against Miranda’s skin. “Emily before, you now, we’re all—” she broke off, feeling Miranda tense just the slightest bit. “Are you seriously jealous over a pretended relationship?”
“You kissed her,” Miranda repeated, almost petulant. “You know how she tastes. How she kisses. Did you also sleep with her to make it all more convincing?”
Andy choked on a laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Of course I didn’t sleep with her! Just—she’s all prim and proper, can you imagine how boring that’d be?”
Miranda’s eyes glistened, just for a moment but enough to send sparks through Andy’s body as she kissed her, once again long and slow. Andy allowed herself to melt into it, closing her eyes and just relishing in the moment, letting Miranda take the lead.
“Do you still remember how Emily’s lips felt like?” Miranda asked quietly. Her thumb was a warm pressure against Andy’s chin where it kept Andy’s head in place, the touch feeling almost electric.
“What?”
“Emily’s lips,” Miranda repeated, looking almost sour with the words. “I want to kiss you to the point where you forget how it felt to kiss her at all.”
Oh.
Oh.
That undoubtedly was doing things to Andy’s body. And mind. And her in a whole, really, if she allowed herself to think about it properly. Which she did not, because the moment she felt her cheeks flame—and they did flame, how could they not with what Miranda was saying?—she hid her face in her hands, trying to focus on normal things. Miranda’s plan for the next day. Miranda’s order to pick up. Miranda’s—
Miranda.
She was so definitely thinking about Miranda.
“You know what,” Miranda mused quietly, her hand moving to card through Andy’s hair with care. “We should probably let Serena know. Would be unfortunate of her to have an aneurysm when she sees the two of us together. Cheating would be such a scandal.”
Andy’s head snapped up, suddenly alarmed. “What do you mean?”
Miranda leaned forward to her desk, one hand splayed on Andy’s side to keep her from falling off her lap, and pressed the intercom button.
“Emily. You and Serena,” she started coldly, making Andy’s whole body freeze. This was bad. This couldn’t be happening. She refused to believe it. “My office. Now.”
Oh, God, it was happening.
Her legs touched the ground, but before she managed to actually put her weight on them, Miranda grabbed her tie, pulling on it to keep her from moving. Andy’s eyes flickered to hers, where they were staring at her with amusement.
“Miranda,” Andy hissed, her voice higher than she would like. “They are going to see—you cannot—” She gestured at her face, at the smudged lipstick, at Miranda’s mussed hair. “I should—”
She reached out to Miranda’s hair, trying to put them into something resembling a proper hairstyle. Miranda let her, staring at her with amusement.
“You should do nothing,” she said. Smiled. “Unless you’re ashamed, of course.”
“I’m not, it’s just—Serena’s going to see. And Emily! Both of them, staring at—”
“You had no issues with kissing Emily in public,” Miranda interrupted her softly, still holding the tie. “Surely sitting in my lap isn’t worse.”
“That was pretending!”
“Then the real thing should be easier.”
And maybe it would have been, if not for the way Andy’s mind homed in on the way Miranda kept her down. Or on the way her fingers were still tangled in the material of Andy’s tie, keeping their faces close enough that their breath mingled. Or on the way it felt like Andy’s whole body was burning while Miranda was so, infuriatingly pleased with herself.
“That’s—” she started, licking her lips. “That’s such an unexpected thing of you to do, Miranda, I didn’t—” A laugh bubbled up, sudden and all-consuming. “I didn’t know you were into—”
Miranda kissed her again, more aggressive, keeping Andy’s face in place, but that quickly proved to be impossible to continue as Andy couldn’t calm down for long enough to catch a breath.
“Seriously, that’s such a you thing to do,” she choked out, tangling one hand in the hair at the back of Miranda’s head and pulling her closer, pressing her lips to the smile lines on her cheeks. If Miranda was going to manhandle her, then so was Andy.
“Shut up.”
Another kiss, on the other side of Miranda’s face, exactly on her crows’ feet, more visible from the way she was smiling. A faint lipstick mark stayed there—a surprise, given how Andy was ready to bet on the fact that it was all smudged from her lips already.
“Make me,” she whispered, leaning close again. The good thing about the tie was that it couldn’t stop her from moving close. Just from moving away.
Andy didn’t want to move away.
Not even when Miranda kissed her again, effectively shutting her up just as dared to, back again long and possessive and almost gentle, if not for the way she was trying to map out every corner of Andy’s mouth.
Andy didn’t fight her on that. She let her mouth fall open, let Miranda take what she wanted, despite the small voice in the back of her mind whispering that it was a terrible idea, that Emily and Serena were on their way, that in less than a minute they’d come in and—
Miranda’s lips moved lower, down the side of Andy’s jaw as she tilted it to the side for a better access, her lashes fluttering closed. There were kisses being placed on the top of Andy’s shirt collar, probably leaving faint marks there too as Andy held her head against Miranda’s shoulder, not caring about anything, not about the impropriety, not about the glass door, not about the—
The knock shattered the moment.
Andy’s eyes snapped open, moving to where the sound came from, her heart hammering in her throat. A knock on the glass door. With Emily and Serena on the other side, seeing everything.
Seeing Andy kissing Miranda. In her lap. Behind her desk.
Oh, fuck.
Andy pulled Miranda back from herself. Her fingers, tangled in Miranda’s hair, definitely helped with making that more efficient, even if Miranda, despite Andy’s insistence, was unwilling to move away. “Miranda,” she hissed, her cheeks hot and probably as pink as Miranda’s lipstick, yanking the tie out of her fingers, “could you please—”
“Enter!” Miranda called out. She looked unbothered, her cold mask back in place, though it was significantly less convincing with lipstick all over her face and mussed hair and Andy sitting right in her lap. And kept there, because the moment she tried to stand up, she got yanked back down by the fucking tie again.
Fine. Okay.
If Miranda wanted to play, Andy wouldn’t be worse.
She was an oasis of calm, really. Even as Emily and Serena were going to see them like this, dishevelled, lipstick-smeared, absolutely improper. She was calm, she was breathing properly, and she was going to own this, no matter whose lap she was sitting in.
Emily entered slowly, Serena just after her, pale, eyes wide, both of them moving as if they were in the presence of a predator that was about to pounce. There was something akin to relief on Emily’s face, along with horror, maybe, but it was Serena’s expression that made Andy grin again as she placed her arm around Miranda’s neck to keep herself from falling down.
“Oh, God,” Emily muttered faintly. She sounded distressed, which Andy, with adrenaline and excitement buzzing in her veins, suddenly found hilarious. The whole situation was ridiculous, with how Miranda was looking, lipstick on her face, but Andy couldn’t bring herself to care. “Andy, why—”
“There are some things that require clarification,” Miranda started, as if nothing out of ordinary was happening. “Particularly regarding the dating situation at Runway.”
Serena’s mouth was opening and closing without a sound.
“You’re—” she choked out, grabbing Emily’s arm as if it were a lifeline. Her eyes darted from Andy to Miranda, then Emily and back to Andy, taking in her position. The way Miranda’s fingers rested on Andy’s hip. The smudged lipstick.“But you’re—”
“Pretending,” Miranda finished smoothly. She leaned back in the chair; Andy sprawled herself across her lap with an ease she absolutely didn’t feel, putting her other hand on the desk to like she was claiming territory. Like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. “Emily, would you care to enlighten Serena about the situation?”
Emily crossed her arms on her chest. Her face had gone through shock and horror, and was set on something resembling defensive anger. “Not particularly, Miranda, no,” she bit out. “But I’m sure you’d be the one to happily explain why my girlfriend is—”
“Not a girlfriend,” Andy interrupted her immediately, before Miranda tensed up even further under her. “Sorry, it’s—it’s a mess. Emily asked me to pretend to date her. We’re not—I’m not cheating on her.”
“You’re not with Emily,” Serena repeated faintly, turning her head to face Emily fully. “Why did you act otherwise?”
Miranda straightened up a bit, reaching out to put a strand of hair behind Andy’s ear. “Because,” she started slowly, “Emily wanted to make you jealous about her.”
Emily shook her head, raising her hands as if to chase away the implication itself. “I did not—”
“It’s—oh, Emily,” Serena laughed, the line of worry between her eyes smoothing out. “Emily, that was—I wouldn’t make you cheat on your girlfriend no matter how much I wanted you, are you crazy?”
Emily’s eyes lit up. Andy snorted at the sight—quickly suppressed—but then she began giggling in earnest with the way Emily kept trying to keep her face composed. She looked, despite all of her sulkiness, eager and hopeful and so like a teenager with a crush that Andy couldn’t do anything but giggle, really.
“You want me,” Emily murmured, her gaze searching for something in Serena’s face.
It suddenly felt as if Andy, together with Miranda, were intruding on something private. Even if it was them who should be more ashamed, with how wrinkled both of their clothes were.
Serena grinned, coming closer to Emily and taking her face in her hands. “Of course I want you, you idiot,” she laughed. Even from her place, Andy could see the blush blooming on Emily’s cheeks, deeper than it ever was when they were pretending. “We will—excuse us, Miranda,” she said at last, casting a glance at them—taking in Andy sprawled across Miranda’s lap with her arm around Miranda’s neck like it was perfectly normal—and then away. “Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention.”
Miranda waved her hand dismissively. “Go.”
Emily grabbed Serena’s hand, pulling her towards the door already with such insistence that Andy couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up on her lips. Miranda’s lips covered hers in an instant, greedily muffling the sound—and the moan that came right after. One that Andy wasn’t proud of.
Miranda pulled away the slightest bit. “And Emily?” she called out after them, her lips still grazing Andy’s. Emily turned around immediately, her gaze falling onto Andy, with her flaming cheeks and all. “No meetings for the rest of the day. No one enters my office. No one—”
“Hey.” Andy’s fingers tightened in Miranda’s hair, no care for Emily’s wide eyes seeing it all. “She understands.”
“Does she.”
Andy pulled her close, gracing Miranda’s lips with another kiss, specifically for Emily to witness. “She does,” she confirmed. “You can have me all for yourself today. Anything you want.”
Miranda’s eyes met Emily’s for a moment. “Go,” she snapped.
Emily fled.
“That was mean,” Andy noticed.
“You’re the one to speak.”
“And you’re the one to make her turn around again, so I think we’re even.”
Miranda hummed, her finger tracing Andy’s jaw. “Not until I take you up on the anything.”
Andy grinned at her, wide and delighted. “See that you do.”