Chapter 10: Terms

I found him in the study with the door open and every lamp on.

It was a square room with dark paneling, a wall of ledgers, and a massive desk.

He stood at the window with his back to me, and for a second, I saw the man at the window on June ninth.

"You didn't have to stare him down," I said.

"I didn't say a word."

"That's why it worked." I shut the door and leaned on it. "Is it always like that? Twelve men jump when you stand up?"

"Yes."

"It's ridiculous."

"It's useful." He turned around. "You did well tonight, Billie."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't be proud of me like I'm your student."

I crossed the carpet.

"I'm still angry. I want you to know that. I'm angry in my whole body."

"I know."

"I'm angry that you watched me from a car."

"I know."

"I'm angry that I like how you look when you're being stared at by twelve men and you don't care."

His eyes changed.

I stopped in front of him, close enough to feel his breath.

"I'm angry," I said, "that I want you right now."

"Then be angry on me."

I pushed him.

I put both hands flat on his chest and shoved, and he let me, taking two steps back until his thighs hit the desk.

I grabbed his tie and pulled his mouth down onto mine.

It wasn't a kiss.

It was a collision, all teeth and heat, and he made a low sound in his chest and his hands closed on my hips.

I tore at his shirt.

Buttons skittered across the floor.

I got my palms on his bare chest, hot skin over hard muscle, and found a scar across his ribs I had not seen in the dark.

I bit his collarbone.

"Billie," he said, rough.

"Shut up."

I unbuckled his belt and shoved his trousers down far enough to take his cock in my hand.

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