The Hollow Page 0,75

out into the cold, wet snow, and noticed his office lights glinting against the windows. When he walked in, Layla glanced up from her keyboard.

"I told you that you didn't have to come in today."

"I had busywork." She stopped typing to swivel toward him. "I rearranged the storage closet so it works better for me. And the kitchen, and some of the files. Then... Is it still snowing?"

"Yeah." He shrugged out of his light jacket. "It's after five, Layla." And he didn't like the idea of her being alone in the building for hours at a time.

"I got caught up. We've been so focused on the journal entries, we've let some of the other areas go. Cybil's hunted up all the newspaper reports on anything related to the Seven, the anecdotal evidence, specifics we've gleaned from you guys, coordinating passages from some of the books on the Hollow. I've been putting them together in various files. Chronologically, geographically, type of incident, and so on."

"Twenty years of that. It'll take a while."

"I do better when I have a system, have order. Plus, we all know that considering the amount of time, the amount of damage, the actual reports are scarce." She brushed back her hair, cocked her head. "How did it go in court?"

"Good."

"Should I ask how things went before court?"

"I did my part. They said I could just, ah, pass off the... second round to Sage for transport in the morning. Then I guess we wait and see if any soldier makes a landing."

"You don't have to wait long these days."

He shrugged, slipped his hands into his pockets. "I didn't think of you."

"Sorry?"

"I mean, you know, when I... donated. I didn't think of you because it seemed rude."

Layla's lips twitched. "I see. Who did you think of?"

"They provide visual stimulation in the form of skin mags. I didn't actually catch her name."

"Men."

"I'm thinking of you now."

Her brows lifted when he walked back, locked the door. "Are you?"

"And I'm thinking I need you to come back to my office." He came over, took her hand. "And put in a little overtime."

"Why, Mr. O'Dell. If only I'd put my hair in a bun and worn glasses."

He grinned as he drew her across the room, down the hall. "If only. But..." He let go of her hands to unbutton her crisp white shirt. "Let's see what's under here today."

"I thought you wanted me to take a letter."

"To whom it may concern, frilly white bras with-oh yeah-front hooks are now standard office attire."

"I don't think this one will fit you," she said, then surprised him by tugging on his tie. "Let's see what's under here. I've thought about you, Mr. O'Dell." She slid the tie off, tossed it aside. "About your hands, your mouth, about how many ways you used them on me." She unhooked his belt as she backed him into his office. "About how many ways you might use them on me again."

Like the tie, she whipped off the belt, let it fall. She shoved his suit jacket off his shoulders, tugged it away. "Start now."

"You're pretty bossy for a secretary."

"Office manager."

"Either way." He bit her bottom lip. "I like it."

"Then you're going to love this." She pushed him down into his desk chair, pointed a finger to keep him in place. Then with her eyes on his, wiggled out of her panties.

"Oh. Boy."

After tossing them aside, she straddled him.

He'd been thinking couch, maybe the floor, but at the moment, with her mouth like a fever on his, the chair seemed perfect. He yanked at her shirt, closed his mouth over her lace-covered breast. This wasn't a woman looking for slow seduction, but for fire and speed. So he used his hands, his mouth, and let her set the pace.

"As soon as you walked in, I wanted this." She fumbled between them, dragged down the zipper of his trousers. "As soon as you walked in, Fox."

She closed around him the moment he was inside her. Tightened as her head fell back, as she gasped. Then her lips were on his throat, on his face, were clashing against his in desperation as her hips pumped.

She took him over with her urgency, her sudden, fierce greed. He let himself be taken, be ruled. Unable to resist, he let himself be filled, and let himself empty. When he came, when his mind was still dazzled by his body's race, she caught his face in her hands and rode him ruthlessly to her own end.

He continued