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tracking her the whole time. She folded them into a tight wad
in her hand, making it clear she wasn’t going to give them
back. Haley’s eyes burned as she snatched up her skirt and
slipped it back on. She adjusted her blouse, but it was ruined
in the front, gaping open to reveal the camisole underneath.
She didn’t ask Claire why she couldn’t touch her. Why she
couldn’t give her pleasure like Claire had given. She probably
knew. It was non-negotiable at the moment, maybe forever.
Claire worked hard at keeping her emotions in line, but right
now, she was a mess. She was a mess without it showing, but
that was still a dangerous undercurrent. She still felt like she
was breathing fire, like her lungs were getting bigger and
bigger without actually taking any oxygen in.
The memories weren’t the ones coming for her this time.
No, this time it was that box she’d locked up inside of herself
so carefully that threatened to burst open. What was wrong
with her that she was feeling all those things, feeling emotions
that she hadn’t in years, for the twenty-one-year-old daughter
of her enemy?
She couldn’t answer that question, and it needed to be
answered, which was why she couldn’t let this continue. She
needed time to think. To get herself back under control. Right
now, if Haley touched her, Claire was afraid that the shattering
wouldn’t be the right kind, and she wasn’t sure that if she
broke apart, she would be able to put herself back together the
way she needed to be put together.
Haley adjusted her clothing one last time. She walked to the
other side of the desk. She looked well and truly fucked. Her
pupils were still blown, her cheeks were pink, and her hair was
a messy, wild riot around her face and shoulders, not to
