"What other matter?"
"Don’t play stupid. It doesn’t suit you."
She walked toward . Each step deliberate. Her grey eyes locked on mine with an intensity that reminded why I found her so interesting in the first place.
"You said this wasn’t going to be a regular thing," I reminded her.
"I said it was a one-ti occurrence."
"And?"
"And I’m revising my assessnt based on new data."
She stopped directly in front of my chair. Close enough that I could sll her shampoo—sothing floral layered over sothing sharper that probably cost more per bottle than most people’s monthly rent. The proximity was deliberate. Everything about this girl was deliberate.
"Noel—"
"Don’t." One hand ca up, palm out, the gesture sohow both defensive and commanding. "I’ve thought about this. Extensively. I’ve run the scenarios, calculated the risks, weighed the potential outcos against the probable costs. I’ve analyzed the data from multiple angles."
"You made a spreadsheet."
"I made several spreadsheets." No hesitation. No embarrassnt. Just flat acknowledgnt delivered with the sa tone she’d use to discuss howork.
"Of course you did."
"The conclusion I reached," she continued, ignoring my comnt entirely, "is that my emotional response to you represents a variable I cannot eliminate through simple avoidance protocols. The more I try to stay away from you, the more ntal processing power I waste thinking about you. The more I think about you, the more my academic and training performance trics decline. It’s a negative feedback loop."
"So I’m a distraction," I said.
"A statistically significant one."
"And your solution is?"
"Controlled exposure therapy." Her fingers reached out and caught the knot of my tie, working it loose with practiced efficiency. "Regular scheduled contact to manage the intensity of the physiological and psychological response. Prevent it from interfering with more important operational priorities."
"You’re treating like a dication."
"I’m treating you like a necessary compromise."
Her fingers worked the buttons of my shirt. One by one.
"The door’s not locked," I said.
"I locked it when you ca in."
"Of course you did."
"Shut up."
She kissed . Not gentle, not romantic. Aggressive and demanding and everything I’d co to expect from her. I grabbed her waist and pulled her onto my lap.
The chair groaned under our combined weight.
"This is a terrible idea," she muttered against my mouth.
"You’ve ntioned that."
"Multiple tis."
"And yet here we are."
"Here we are."
Her skirt rode up as she settled more firmly against . I could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her underwear. My hands found the buttons on her uniform jacket, working them open with less efficiency than she’d managed with my shirt.
"You’re bad at this," she said.
"I’m distracted."
"By what?"
"By the fact that you’re grinding on while critiquing my fine motor skills."
She laughed. Actually laughed, a sound I’d heard maybe twice since eting her. It transford her face into sothing softer and warr and infinitely more dangerous.
"I still hate you," she said.
"I know."
"This doesn’t change anything."
"I know that too."
"Good."
She pulled my shirt open the rest of the way and ran her hands across my chest. Her touch left trails of sensation that made it hard to think about anything except getting her out of that uniform as quickly as possible.
The drain stirred. I held it back, letting the mont be just physical for once.
"You’re holding back," she noticed.
"Trying to."
"Don’t."
"Noel—"
"I said don’t." She grabbed my face with both hands. "I want to feel it. All of it. I want to know what this is without you filtering it."
"If I open the drain all the way—"
"Then do it."
I opened it.
Her Essentia flooded into like a dam breaking. Vanilla and frost and fire, just like before, but deeper now. More complex. Layers I hadn’t tasted the first ti we were together. I felt her resistance crumbling, felt the walls she kept around herself dissolving under the force of the connection between us.
She gasped. Her whole body shuddered.
"Oh god."
"Still hate ?"
"More than ever."
Her hands were everywhere. My hands were everywhere. Clothes beca obstacles to be removed and discarded and forgotten. The conference table beca a surface for better leverage. The tactical diagrams on the whiteboard watched us like silent judges.
Sowhere in the back of my mind, I registered that this was probably a terrible idea. Having sex with Noel in the sa conference room where we’d already had sex once before, during academy hours when anyone could knock on the door and demand entry.
But Noel’s mouth was on my neck and her body was pressed against mine and the drain was cycling between us in waves of shared sensation that made rational thought feel like a distant concept.
"Ro."
"Yeah?"
"If you tell anyone about this—"
"I won’t."
"Anyone."
"Noel. I won’t."
She believed . I could feel it through the connection. The trust she was extending despite every instinct telling her not to.
I made a decision.
I pulled back just enough to look at her face. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from kissing.
"What?" she demanded.
"Nothing. You’re just beautiful."
She blinked. Sothing complicated moved across her expression.
"Don’t say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because it makes this harder."
"Makes what harder?"
"Pretending I don’t care about you."
I kissed her again. Softer this ti. The drain pulsed between us, cycling warmth and want and sothing that felt dangerously close to genuine affection.
When we finally ca up for air, she was looking at like I was a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve.
"You’re not what I expected," she said.
"What did you expect?"
"Soone easier to hate."
"Disappointed?"
"Confused." She traced a line down my chest. "You should be exactly what everyone says you are. A playboy coasting on family money. An arrogant waste of potential. The villain of soone else’s story."
"Maybe I am all those things."
"Maybe. But you’re also sothing else. Sothing I can’t figure out."
"Does that bother you?"
"Imnsely."
I pulled her close again. Felt her lt against despite her best efforts to stay rigid.
"Welco to the club," I said. "I can’t figure out either."
She laughed again. That sa rare sound that made everything worth the complications.
We didn’t leave the conference room for another two hours.
Reviews
All reviews (0)