Interesting.
She's wearing those fucking leggings again. The ones that cling to every curve. One of Oakley's hoodies, oversized and soft, that somehow makes her look both vulnerable and untouchable.
Her hair is loose, still damp from a shower, and I can smell her shampoo—jasmine and something uniquely Vespera that makes my cock immediately take interest.
"Working hard?" she asks, moving into the room with more purpose than her casual tone suggests.
I close my laptop. "The Robbie situation requires attention."
"How's that going?"
"Progressing." I lean back in my chair, trying to maintain control even though having her this close makes rational thought difficult. "His expulsion was thorough. Administrative clearance, academic probation, social rehabilitation—it's a multi-phase approach."
"Sounds complicated."
"It is."
"But you can do it." Not a question.
"I can fix what we broke. Yes."
Her eyes flash at the admission. "We. All three of you destroyed him."
"Yes." No point deflecting. "We targeted him because he helped you. Made an example of him to isolate you further. It was strategic and cruel and effective."
"And now you're going to undo it."
"If that's what you want."
"It's not what I want." She moves closer, perching on the edge of my desk. Close enough that I feel the heat of her body. "It's what you owe. To him. To me. To the concept of being better than you were."
The challenge in her voice does something to my cock. She's not begging. Not asking nicely. She's demanding, negotiating from strength despite technically having none.
And I find that unbearably attractive.
"And if I fix it?" I ask. "What happens then?"
Her smile is dangerous. "Then you get what you want."
"Which is?"
"Me." She slides off the desk, moving around it until she's standing beside my chair, close enough that I have to tilt myhead back to meet her eyes. "Not because of heat. Not because of biology. Me, choosing you. Clear-headed and willing and wanting you just as much as you want me."
My cock goes from interested to painfully hard.
"You've been thinking about it," she continues, her hand trailing down my arm. "What I'd be like without the heat. Whether I'd still want you. Whether the chemistry is real or just biology."
"And is it?" My voice comes out rougher than intended. "Real?"
"Let's find out." Her hand moves to my thigh. Even through my pants, I feel the heat of her palm. "You fix Robbie's situation. Get him back into school, clear his record, give him his future back. Do that, and I'll give you what you've been wanting since my heat ended."
"You're negotiating with sex." I should be annoyed at being manipulated. Instead, I'm so hard it's difficult to think.
"I'm negotiating with choice." She leans closer. "You want me to choose you? Prove you're worth choosing. Show me you can fix what you break. That you're not just a strategist who destroys people for convenience."
She's playing my game better than I taught her. Clear objectives. Measurable outcomes. Incentive structure.
It's fucking brilliant.
