Chapter 11: Rule Three

They didn't speak in the truck.

Beck drove with both hands on the wheel and his jaw locked, and Lena sat with her palms pressed flat on her knees.

The kiss was still on her mouth.

She could feel where the glass had been against her back.

In the elevator he stood a foot away from her and stared at the numbers.

On the fourteenth floor he unlocked the door and held it open.

She walked in first.

He shut it behind her, and the lock clicked.

For a moment neither of them moved.

"You said no touching where people can see," Beck said, low.

"Nobody can see now."

"You said no first names."

"You said mine in front of the whole team."

"I did."

"Say it again."

He crossed the room in three strides.

He did not grab her this time.

He took her face in both hands, slowly, and waited for her to say yes.

"Lena," he said.

"Yes."

His mouth came down on hers, and it was nothing like the kiss in the corridor.

It was slow, and deep, and so thorough that her knees gave.

He caught her around the waist and walked her backward until her shoulders met the wall.

She dragged his jersey up over his head and dropped it on the floor.

His chest was broad and scarred, with a long pale line across his ribs.

She put her palm flat over it, and she felt his heart slamming under her hand.

"Does that hurt?" she asked.

"No."

"Then why's your heart doing that?"

"Because of you," Beck said roughly. "Obviously."

Something hot and fierce opened in her chest.

She pulled her own dress over her head.

His eyes went down her body, and his breath left him in a rush.

"God, Lena."

"Look at me, Rylander. Don't just stand there."

"I'm looking."

"Then do something."

He lifted her.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he carried her down the hall to his bedroom.

The sheets were grey and cold.

He laid her down and stood over her, and she saw his hands were shaking.

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