Chapter Two
She was trying to kill him. It was the only explanation. Faye was trying to kill him, slowly and painfully.
Despite his best efforts to the contrary, he noticed everything. Every little move she made.
How she would occasionally lick her lips then tilt her head, exposing the long slope of her neck, or bite her lips whenever she was concentrating.
His heart all but burst when she needed to stretch and would cross her hands behind her head and arch, slowly, oh so slowly, so that her breasts were all but bursting from her sweater and the hem rose up to show off her flat milky navel.
But his favourite was when she started to make notes and would every now and then pause, her tongue curling around her pencil as she considered the text.
He would have given his right nut just to be that pencil for a few moments.
It happened so slowly, he never saw it coming…
Faye hadn’t known what else to do.
For all her less than considerable wiles, Terry was proving about as corruptible as Jesus Christ and she was all out of ideas.
Leaning across the desk, she presented him with her finished notes. She almost shivered with ecstasy as she felt the heat of his gaze roaming across her skin. He wanted her, she knew it; but he did nothing.
So, instead, she made the first move.