Chapter 16: Rule Nine

She got him as far as the top of the stairs before she turned and pushed him against the wall.

"You told the whole board about the knees," Imogen said.

"Including the chairman."

"Do not make me laugh. I'm very angry."

"I can tell. You're breathing like a woman in a hurry."

She walked him backward down the hall, one hand fisted in the front of his hoodie, to her own bedroom door.

She pushed it open and pulled him through.

The lamp was on. The bed was made, flat and white and ironed, because nobody had slept in it since the inspector.

Imogen shut the door.

She turned the key from the inside, and the old brass lock gave its heavy click, with both of them on the same side of it.

"Rule nine," she said. "Whoever wants the lock, has the lock."

"I thought it was my rule."

"You wrote it. I'm the one using it."

She pulled his cap off and dropped it on the floor.

"Rule four," Griffin said, out of breath. "No touching without a reason."

"I have one."

"What is it?"

"I'm angry," Imogen said, "and I'd like to do something about it."

She kissed him hard, with her whole mouth, and he made a noise that surprised both of them.

His hands went to her waist. She caught his wrists and put them against the wall above his head.

"Leave them there."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am."

"You like it."

"I do," she said, and dragged his hoodie up over his head and dropped it.

She took her time and looked at him carefully.

Then she bent her head and put her mouth on his chest and his stomach, and every muscle he owned jumped.

"Four," she said, against his skin.

"Four what?"

"Your score. So far."

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