I twirled my hair and dropped the remark I knew would get through to him, knowing Everett's slow blink meant he was done tolerating my games. His palm settled at my hip before he lifted me onto the conference table's edge, my skirt riding up to expose skin to the cool air and the glittering city below.
The Valemont inheritance brought us here, but his quiet authority is what I've craved since my parents left me to fend for myself. His guilt holds him back from giving me the full discipline I test for, yet each measured touch only draws me closer. I push because his steady control is the one thing that makes me feel less spoiled and more seen.
His hand hovers now, and I ache for the correction that might finally make me feel secure.
