Chapter 11: Rule One

"It isn't about her," I said.

Hazel's hand stayed flat on my chest, and I could feel her pulse in her fingertips.

"Say the rest."

"I've thought about you since the soup. I thought about you before I knew who I was supposed to be angry at."

She searched my face in the dim light.

"That's a lot of thinking for someone who's been in this house four days."

"I'm quick."

"You're not," she said, and her mouth twitched. "You waited eight years."

"I'm done waiting."

The hand on my chest curled into my shirt.

"Good," she said.

She pulled me away from the counter and down the corridor, past Dot's closed door, and into the room at the end.

It smelled of her, soap and cedar and warm skin.

She shut the door and leaned against it, and for a moment we only looked at each other.

"Rule one says you don't," she said. "Rule one says I'm not a way to get back at her."

"I know."

"Then you have to be so bad at it that I don't believe a word of it."

I kissed her.

She kissed me back hungrily, her hands tearing at the buttons of my shirt.

I got my mouth to her neck, and she tipped her head back against the door and swore.

"Don't be careful," she said. "I've watched you be careful for four days. I don't want it."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to take what you want. For once in your life, take it."

Nobody had ever said that to me.

I lifted her off her feet, her legs locking around my hips, and carried her to the bed.

She pulled her T-shirt over her head as I laid her down, and she wore nothing underneath.

I stopped for a second just to look.

Her breasts were full and freckled, and her nipples had gone tight in the cool air.

"Jude."

"I'm looking."

"Look with your mouth."

I did.

I took one nipple between my lips and sucked, and she gasped and dug her nails into my scalp.

I licked across to the other, slowly, then drew it in hard.

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