The Arrangement novel · Chapter 7 of 24

Chapter 7: Sleepover

He shut the flat door behind us and leaned back against it.

"Boots," I said.

"What?"

"You told me I could take them off here."

"Clause six says I can't sleep here, so I'm taking them off before I sleep."

He stared at me.

"That makes no sense."

"I know."

I sat on the arm of his drafting chair, unlaced my boots slowly, and dropped them one at a time on the floor.

Each one made a heavy sound in the quiet room.

He watched the second one fall.

I stood and crossed the floor in my socks, and he didn't move from the door.

His breathing had changed.

I put my palm flat on his chest and felt his heart going like a hammer.

"I've thought about the study for thirty-five hours," I said.

"I counted thirty-six."

"Then you've got me beat."

"Joss." His voice cracked. "I haven't done this in a long time. I don't know if I'm any good."

"Good. I'm not looking for good."

"What are you looking for?"

"You."

I went up on my toes and kissed him.

He made a low sound against my mouth.

His hands came off the door and wrapped around me, one at the small of my back and one in my hair, and he lifted me clean off the floor.

I laughed into the kiss.

He had forgotten how strong he was.

He carried me through the studio past the drafting table and the pinned charts.

In a small back room with one window, he set me down on the edge of an unmade bed with a gray wool blanket.

I pulled my sweater off over my head.

His eyes went to my bra, a plain black one, then to my belly, my hips, my thighs in my work jeans.

I'm a size sixteen and I am five foot ten, and I have been looked at by plenty of men who wished I were smaller.

He looked at me like a man in front of the sea.

"You're so beautiful," he said, rough, like it hurt him to say.

"Take your sweater off."

He did, one handed, over his head.

I pulled him down by his belt.

We went onto the blanket in a tangle of limbs, his mouth on my throat and mine on his shoulder.

I got his pants open and my hand around him.

He was thick and hot and already hard, and he jerked in my fist.

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