Chapter 7: Count It

Yvette did not knock.

It was after midnight, and the study lamp was the only light in the house.

Alaric stood at the window with his back to her and his tie pulled loose.

"I told you it did not happen," he said without turning.

"I felt it."

He turned around.

She shut the door behind her and turned the lock, and the click sounded very loud.

"You made two rules," Yvette said. "Hands only. Nothing above the wrist."

"Yvette."

"You broke the first one in the kitchen. Your hand was on my neck."

"I know where my hand was."

"Then I do not owe you the rule."

She crossed the room and stopped in front of him, close enough to feel the heat coming off his chest.

She put both hands on his face.

He shut his eyes.

For a moment he stood perfectly still, and she felt him decide.

Then he said her name, low and rough, and his arms came around her.

He kissed her hard and without any care at all.

She went up on her toes and he lifted her the rest of the way and set her on the edge of the desk.

Papers slid to the floor. A pen rolled away.

She did not care.

His mouth was on her throat, and his hands were on her thighs, pushing her skirt up to her hips.

"I cannot stop," he said against her skin.

"Good."

"Yvette."

"Do not stop."

He made a sound she had never heard from him in any life.

She dragged his shirt open and the buttons hit the floor in a spray. His chest was hot under her hands, and his heart hammered hard against her palm.

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