She slid off the table and I watched her stand there in her uniform blouse and that criminally short skirt, violet hair messed up from my hands, lipstick smudged across her chin like evidence of a crime. Looking at me like she was about to commit a felony and didn't care who knew.
"Turn around," I said.
"Excuse me?"
"Turn. Around."
She crossed her arms, and the gesture pushed her small breasts up against the white fabric of her shirt. "Why?"
"Because I'm going to bend you over this table and you're going to stop arguing with every instruction I give you."
Her breath hitched. The drain pulsed harder, feeding off the spike in her arousal.
"That's..." She tried for indignant. Landed somewhere closer to intensely interested. "Presumptuous."
"You want soft and romantic, go find Nolan."
Wrong thing to say. I knew it the moment the words left my mouth.
Her expression went cold. Arctic. The temperature in the room dropped five degrees. "Don't."
