Page 112 of His Reckoning

“No.”

“Open it,” I repeat slowly.

She narrows her eyes. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to prove something.”

Kayla snorts. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Possibly.”

She flips the laptop open anyway, mostly out of stubbornness.

“Start writing,” I say.

She stares at me like I just insulted her entire family. “You think you can just boss me around?”

“Yes.”

“You’re insane.”

“Write.”

She rolls her eyes. “This proves nothing.”

“We’ll see.”

Kayla sighs dramatically and turns toward the screen. Her fingers hover above the keyboard, waiting, but nothing happens.

She glances sideways at me. “You’re very smug for someone who’s about to be wrong.”

“I’m patient.”

“You’re unbearable.”

“Write.”

Kayla looks back at the screen again and types a word.

She stops, then deletes it.

I press a hand to the couch cushion she is sitting on and guide myself down to my knees.

Her eyes meet mine. “What are you doing?”

“I’m testing something,” I say.

I move her laptop up a couple of inches to her stomach, then place my hands on her bare knees.

The warmth of her skin sends goose bumps across my body, which I am going to ignore. I don’t want to analyze what the hell that is about.

Then I pull her legs open wider.

I can hear the audible breath she takes in.

“Sawyer, what are you doing?”

“I want you to write, Kayla. Every time you do, I will reward you. I’ll show you just how much you want me. How much creativity I can help unlock.”