Off the Clock Roni Loren Read Online Free

  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 lot

"Unique and emotional."

—USA Today

"A mix of baking (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 fifty-fifty attempt to put it down."

—Cassandra Carr, writer of Called-for Dearest

"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 volume isn't for the faint of center."

—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, 'Allow'south ride it again.'"

—Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews

"Roni Loren's books are masterful, story-driven, sensual, and very erotic . . . Definitely one of my accept-to-get-as-soon-as-possible serial!"

—Under the Covers Volume Weblog

TITLES BY RONI LOREN

Crash Into Yous

Melt Into You

Autumn Into You

Not Until Y'all

Defenseless Upwardly in You

Demand You This night

Goose egg Betwixt U.s.a.

Call on Me

Off the Clock

NOVELLAS

However Into You

Forever Starts Tonight

Prissy Girls Don't Ride

Yours All Along

Interruption Me Down

An banner 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 inventiveness, encourages diverse voices, promotes costless speech communication, and creates a vibrant civilization. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any function of it in any form without permission. You lot are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

BERKLEY® is a registered trademark of Penguin Random Business firm LLC.

The "B" design is a trademark of Penguin Random Firm LLC.

For more information almost 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 merchandise paperback edition.

pages ; cm

ISBN 978-0-425-27854-3 (paperback)

I. Title.

PS3612.O764O34 2016

813'.6—dc23

2015031568

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Berkley merchandise paperback edition / January 2016

Cover art: Leisure Legs © Kichigan / Shutterstock.

Embrace design past Diana Kolsky.

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

Version_1

To my family, e'er

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

At that place are and so many people backside the scenes that help these books happen. I could never thank them enough.

Donnie, for your love and laughter and unflagging back up.

Kidlet, for beingness awesome.

Mom, for listening to me ramble about writing problems fifty-fifty though most of the time I'yard probably not making whatsoever sense at all.

De, for ever having total 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 amanuensis, Sara Megibow, for always championing my books and for doing ability reads when I'm having book panic attacks.

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

Taylor Lunsford, for beta reading, beingness honest, and for proverb, "What about Eli?" when I was brainstorming the brusque story.

And ever, e'er, to my readers, for being fearless romantics, for reading my books, and for existence the awesome people that you lot are.

Thanks!

CONTENTS

Praise for the Novels of Roni Loren

Titles by Roni Loren

Championship Page

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Epigraph

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter three

Chapter 4

Affiliate five

Chapter 6

Chapter seven

Chapter 8

Affiliate 9

Affiliate 10

Chapter 11

Affiliate 12

Chapter 13

Affiliate 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter xviii

Affiliate 19

Affiliate 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Affiliate 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter thirty

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Affiliate 33

Affiliate 34

Chapter 35

Epilogue

About the Author

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

1 is very crazy when in love.

—SIGMUND FREUD

1

Then

"I'm going to wrap my fingers in your hair and slide my other manus 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 bustling softly in the background. She didn't dare move. She'd been on the manner to take hold of a soda and a snack out of the vending machine. Her caffeine supply had run low and watching participants snore in the slumber lab wasn't exactly stimulating stuff. But that silk-smooth male phonation had striking her like a thunderclap, waking up every sense that had gone ho-hum with burnout.

She'd assumed she was the only one left in the psychology edifice at this hour likewise the two study subjects in the sleep lab. It was spring interruption and the classrooms and labs were supposed to exist locked upward—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 person phonation as it drifted into the hallway.

"I bet you'd like beingness fucked upwardly confronting the wall. My erect pumping in you hard and fast."

Holy. Shit. Marin pressed her lips together. Manifestly ii other people thought they were alone, besides. Had students snuck into the building to get information technology on? Or maybe it was one of the professors. Oh, God, please don't let it be a professor. She should plow effectually right now and get dorsum to Profess

or Roberts's office. Last matter she needed was to meet 1 of her teachers in some compromising position. She would die of mortification.

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

"Yeah, y'all like that. I know. I bet you're wet for me right at present just thinking near how it would feel. Maybe I should bank check. Proceed your hands against the wall."

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

"I'1000 so hard for yous. Can you lot feel how much I desire yous?" That voice was like velvet confronting Marin'south 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, simply her body certain knew how to react to the idea. Her manus drifted up to her neck and pressed against her pharynx, her pulse chirapsia similar hummingbird wings beneath her fingertips.

She waited with held breath to hear the woman's response, merely no voice answered the man's question. Tin you experience how much I desire 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 mitt upward your thighs until I tin experience your hot, slick . . ."

Marin braced her other paw against the wall and leaned and so far forward that 1 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. In that location 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 vocalization and now sounded ten kinds of bellyaching. A wadded-upwards brawl of newspaper came flying out of an open doorway a few yards down. She followed the arc and watched the paper land on the floor. Simply and then did she notice at that place were three others like it already littering the hallway.

Lamplight shifted on the pale linoleum as if the person inside the function was moving around, and Marin flattened herself against the wall, trying to make herself one with information technology. Please don't come out. Please don't come up out. The silent prayer whispered through her equally she counted the doors between her and the mystery voice, mentally labeling each one. When she realized it was 1 of the offices they let the Ph.D. students utilize and non a professor's, she let out a jiff.

Either way, she had no intention of alerting her hall mate that he wasn't alone. But at least she could finish worrying she'd gotten all fevered over one of her professors. At present she just had to figure out how to get by 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 ii hours of data entry and slumber monitoring if she didn't get some caffeine. No wonder none of the upperclassmen had wanted to fill up in during suspension.

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 frontward on serenity anxiety. But as soon as she got within a few steps of the shaft of light coming from the occupied room, a large shadow blotted information technology into darkness.

She'd been so focused on that beam of light that information technology took her a moment to register what had happened. She froze and her gaze hopped up, landing on the guy who filled the doorway. No, not just any guy, a very familiar guy. Alpine and lean and effortlessly disheveled. Everything inside her went on alarm. 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 experience her face heating and her throat closing—some bizarre, instant response she seemed to have to this man. She'd spent mode too many hours in the back of her Intro to Man Sexuality class memorizing each little item of Donovan West. Well, his profile, really. And his walk. And the manner 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 similar some bat signal for her body to go haywire.

It'd started with the day he'd had to accept over the lecture when Professor Paxton was sick. He'd talked about arousal and the concrete mechanics of that procedure. Information technology was technical. He'd been wearing a T-shirt that read Sometimes I Experience Like a Full Freud. It shouldn't have been sexy. But Lord, it'd been 1 of the hottest experiences of her life. He'd talked with his hands a lot and had evidently been a little nervous to exist in front of the class. But at the aforementioned time, he'd been so confident in the information, had answered questions with all this enthusiasm. Marin hadn't heard a word in the residual of her classes that day for all the fantasizing she'd been doing.

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

She turned fully toward him and cleared her pharynx, trying to form some kind of not-weird response. But when her gaze chop-chop traveled over him over again, all semblance of language left her. Oh, shit. She tried to drag her focus back to his face and cement information technology at that place. His very handsome face—a shadow of stubble, bright blueish eyes, pilus that fell a little too long around the ears. Lips that she'd thought way too much almost. All good. All great.

But despite the nice view, she couldn't ignore the affair in the bottom edge of her vision, the thing that had defenseless her attention on that quick once-over. The difficult outline in his jeans screamed at her to stare—to clarify, to burn the picture into her encephalon. The need to look warred with embarrassment. The latter finally won and her cheeks flared even hotter. She adjusted her spectacles. "Uh, yep, hi. Lamentable. 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 at that place once more. The view was like a siren song she couldn't ignore. Massive erection, dead ahead! She glanced away. Simply not quick enough for him not to notice.

"Ah, shit." He stepped behind the doorway and hid his bottom half. "Sorry. Information technology's, uh . . . non what it looks like."

She snorted, an involuntary, nervous, half-choking noise that seemed to echo in the cavernous hallway. Really smoothen. She tried to strength some kind of wit past the clumsiness 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 betwixt them with warmth. Lord, even his laugh was sexy. So non fair.

"Well, okay, it is that. But why it's in that location is merely an occupational chance."

His laugh and easy tone settled her some. Or maybe it was the fact that he was obviously feeling awkward, besides. "Occupational run a risk? Must be more interesting than the sleep lab."

He jabbed a thumb toward the office. "It is. Sexuality department. I'1000 working on my dissertation under Professor Paxton."

She could tell he didn't recognize her from class. Non surprising since she saturday in the back of the large stadium-fashion room and tried to exist as invisible as possible. Plus, she was wearing her spectacles this night. "I'm with Professor Roberts. I'm monitoring the sleep report tonight."

"Oh, correct on. I didn't realize he'd taken on another grad student. I'thou Donovan, by the mode."

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 proper noun Marin wasn't all that common. She forced a pocket-sized smile, not correcting him that she was well-nigh every bit far from a grad student as she could get. She wanted to exist ane. Would be i day if she could figure out how to beget it. She'd managed to examination out of two semesters of classes, but high IQ or not, that dream was however a long manner off—a point of light at the cease of a very long, twisting tunnel.

Marin shifted on her anxiety. "I was heading to get a Coke and then that I don'

t fall asleep from doing data entry and watching people snore. Y'all demand anything?"

"A Coke?" He glanced down the hall. "Don't waste a buck fifty on the vending motorcar. I've got a mini-fridge in hither. You can come in and grab any you lot want."

Are you lot an selection? I'd like to grab y'all. The errant idea fabricated 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 later on she grabbed Donovan anyway. This was a twentysomething-yr-one-time man, not ane of the few boys she'd awkwardly made out with in high school. This was a guy who'd know how to exercise all those things she'd only read about in books.

"No, that's okay, I hateful . . ." She shifted her gaze away, willing her face not to go reddish again.

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

He gave her a tilted grin 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 i of Pax'due south students, he'd probably freak out that she'd seen him like this. Only the chance to spend a few minutes with him was as well tempting to pass upward.

Plus, the way he was looking at her settled something inside her. Commonly she shut down effectually guys. Being jerked around from schoolhouse to schoolhouse on her mom'due south whims hadn't left her with much time to develop savvy when information technology came to these things. But something almost Donovan made her want to footstep frontward instead of run abroad. "Yeah, okay. Free is expert."

"Cool." His face brightened. Maybe he'd been as lonely and bored this night as she had been. He aptitude over and picked upwardly the papers he'd thrown into the hallway then swept a hand in front of him. "Welcome to my personal hell. The fridge is in the back corner."

heywardwincell.blogspot.com

Source: https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/roni-loren/38485-off_the_clock.html