Chapter Two:
Repeat It Slower
The second time he came, he didn’t knock.
The lock clicked open like he’d always had the key.
Maybe he did. Maybe I gave it to him when I spread my legs and begged for a lesson I didn’t know I needed.
I didn’t look up from the glass of wine I was sipping in the kitchen, but I heard him—his coat hitting the back of my couch, the folder tossed on the table, the way his shoes hit the floor one by one as he stepped closer.
I wore a robe.
I wasn’t planning to. I told myself I’d wear something normal. Something decent. But the idea of fabric sliding off under his fingers was too good to resist.
Julien didn’t say a word at first.
He just walked up behind me and ran his palm down the curve of my ass.
“Did you practice your French?” he asked, voice smooth, l
