Chapter 11: Four Weeks, You Said

She kissed me with total attention and no wasted motion.

My back hit the door and the whole frame shook.

Her hands were in my hair, and her mouth was hot, and she tasted of beer and mint.

I got my arms around her waist and pulled her in.

She made a low sound against my lips.

"Four weeks, you said," I managed.

"What?"

"You said four weeks, and then you'd start to like me."

"I started early." She bit my lower lip, not gently. "Shut up. Booth rule."

"That's not the rule."

"It is tonight."

She reached behind me and turned the lock.

It clicked, loud in the small hot room.

Her eyes were dark and her hair was coming down out of its pencil.

She had waited a long time for this, and she had no intention of being polite about it.

"Take your jacket off," she said.

I took it off.

"Now stand there."

I stood against the door.

She took hold of the front of my shirt in both fists and pulled it out of my jeans.

Then she put her mouth against the bare skin of my stomach, and my whole body jumped.

"Isla."

"I said I'd take it off with my teeth," she said, against my skin. "I'm a woman of my word."

She worked the buttons open one at a time with her teeth and her tongue.

I leaned my head back against the wood and said her name again.

It came out rough.

When the last button went, she pushed the shirt off my shoulders and ran her palms up my chest.

"Look at you," she said.

"There's nothing to look at."

"You've been behind that camera for three years and nobody has looked at you once."

She dragged her thumbs across my nipples, and I swore.

"I'm going to look at all of you."

She stepped back.

She pulled her cardigan over her head and dropped it, and then her t-shirt.

She stood in the white glow of the lamp in her bra and jeans, with her freckled shoulders bare.

I forgot how to breathe.

She unhooked her bra and let it fall.

Her breasts were small and round and pale, with the nipples drawn tight in the warm air.

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