Chapter 8: The Floor Rule

"Leave," Ivo said again, and it came out as a growl. "Cassandra, I mean it."

"You said never in this office."

He stared at me.

"Your terms," I said. "The floor in the basement, never my dorm, never your office. You were very clear."

"That's what I'm telling you."

"Then take me to the floor."

His gold eyes closed.

The horn on his temple gleamed in the next flash of lightning.

I stepped across the room and put both hands flat on his chest.

His heart was hammering under my palms.

"Tell me to go again," I said, "and mean it."

He didn't.

He picked me up and carried me down the dark stairs, and I had my arms around his neck the whole way.

The basement ring was black. The lamp had gone out, and the only light came through a high window, silver and flickering.

He set me down in the packed sand.

I kicked off my shoes and pulled my shirt over my head.

He watched me do it, and his breath stopped.

"This is the floor," I said. "Those were the rules."

"I made bad rules."

"You did."

I stepped up to him and pulled his mouth down to mine.

He kissed me with five weeks of waiting in it.

It was slow for exactly one breath, and then it wasn't.

His hands went into my hair.

My back hit the wall of the ring, and his mouth moved down my throat, hot and hungry.

I heard myself make a sound I had never made.

"Take it off," I said, tugging at his shirt. "All of it."

He tore it over his head.

His chest was scarred and hard, and I put my mouth against the center of it and felt his heart go wild.

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