Chapter 6: The Library

The Tattnall library had a ladder on wheels, a green-shaded lamp, and a desk the size of a dinghy.

Sullivan shut the door behind us and turned the lamp on low.

He didn't lock it.

I didn't notice that until later.

"Take off the shoes," he said.

I looked at him. He had his jacket off already and his sleeves rolled to the elbow, and his voice had changed.

It was low and level, with no apology in it.

"You've been running every minute we've been together," he said. "Tonight I run it."

"Is that right?"

"Take off the shoes, Jolene."

I stepped out of my sister's heels.

I felt a hot, bright pull low in my stomach.

I was twenty-six, he was thirty-three, and I wanted exactly that: a man who would stop asking and start telling.

"Good," he said. "Now come here."

I went.

He took my face in both hands and kissed me slowly, thoroughly, until my knees started to go.

Then he turned me around and unzipped the silver dress himself, one inch at a time, and it fell to the floor with a whisper.

I stood in the lamplight in a strapless bra and nothing else.

He walked a circle around me.

"Do you know how long I stood on that stage and watched you?" he said. "You took my mother's microphone."

"I was angry."

"I was so hard I could barely walk."

I laughed, breathless. "Then do something about it."

"I intend to."

He lifted me and set me on the edge of the desk.

The wood was cool against the backs of my thighs. Papers slid and fell to the floor, and he didn't look at them.

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