He hadn’t meant to say that. And his arms were sliding around her, cradling that warm softness against his chest, his abdomen, his suddenly throbbing groin. Uh-oh. That meant he wanted her body, as much as he was trying to resist thinking about it. Erica Johnson’s body, warm and lush, spread under him, soft but tightening from the pleasure he was pumping into her, bucking and shuddering as she came in mindless ecstasy. Oh God, yes, that was what he wanted. No. She was a teacher, a colleague. He wasn’t going to . . . do that . . . to a colleague, especially not one that was this vulnerable right now. “I need to take a shower,” he muttered, dropping his arms. “Hang out as long as you like.” She held on to him harder, and he had to pull her away from him – again, just like in the hall at school. Something wrong there, he shouldn’t have to keep peeling her off of him like that, but he wasn’t going there. Never again. “Johnson, let go,” he said gruffly. Finally, she did, sighing and. Verity's knees weakened as she contemplated the abject humiliation awaiting her on the other side of that monstrous door. She was dizzy, light headed; almost feverish with fear and expectation. It was a consistent paradox: despite her misgivings, Verity always felt a thrill of excitement as she prepared to face the Committee.The door opened, evidently of its own volition."Go in," Tyler told her dispassionately.Stealing a final, calming breath, Verity stepped across the threshold.The Committee Room was roughly the size of a European Nation. The titanic proportions never ceased to amaze her. Walls lined with cedar bookshelves rushed upwards like errant skyscrapers, their lines broken by a series of gigantic frescoes filled with battle scenes, tiger hunts and similar masculine subjects (the paintings were actually state of the art holograms, reproducing the originals right down to the crumbling plaster. As Verity had noted previously, everything in the Facility was an illusion). The.
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