Chapter 16 · Ch16

Desk He slammed the folder at dawn and said sit, still raw from the woman who'd come down the garage stairs like she owned his mouth.

"You looked at her like you were going to apologize for me," Nico said, clearing the desk.

"I'll ruin you right here."

"She called you by a name I don't get."

"And you looked soft." He shoved my trousers down.

"Tell me who owns this body." Office. Desk. Jealousy. No bed. I was already aching. He slid inside over the contract we still hadn't finished arguing, a punishing rhythm that knocked the lamp.

"Look at me while I take you. She gets the garage memory. You get the blotter." I . The jealousy had a setting that was not a bed: desk, counter, SUV leather, warehouse rust, oak archive — take the one we were in. You looked at him. That was the trigger. He shoved my skirt aside. Clothes already wrecked. He stepped between my knees, full weight covering me, and asked who owns this body.

"Tell me who owns this body. You looked at him like that again." He slid inside standing, a brand, a rhythm, a public almost.