Never had she agonized over putting words on paper more than she did over that first brief report of a routine chamber meeting. When she got a chance on Monday, she hiked down the street to the Courier office and gave her report to Weber with the words, "I hope this is OK." Yeah, sure," he grunted after a glance at it. "No problem. Appreciate it, Emily." If there's anything that needs to be fixed," she told him nervously, "Feel free to fix it up." That's what I'm here for," he smiled lightly.Weber had the reputation of being a dour, cranky old fart who didn't suffer fools gladly and liked things done his way. She was not terribly surprised to see the story she'd spent literally hours on had been changed around considerably when she saw it in print a couple days later. But she had to admit that it read better, and it was on the front page, rather than on the inside where she had expected it. Rather than confronting him about it, she knew enough to come at it obliquely when he arrived. Through the nylon of my stockings, I could feel his touch like it was on my skin, and it only made me want whatever was going to happen all the more. He lifted the hem of my skirt and stood in front of me. Donovan leaned up against me, pushing me into the stacks for support, and pressed his lips to mine. It was electric. His tongue passed between my lips to meet mine. I could feel his hands running up and down my back, now fingering the stray hairs at the nape, and now lightly caressing my buttocks. His hands came around my sides and drifted up to cup my breasts. His fingers sought my nipples beneath the thin fabric of my silk shirt. They rose to his touch, and I could feel the rest of my body responding as well. It was so long since I had felt the touch of another… My hand reached out tentatively, and I ran my fingers down his chest. I could tell I pleased Donovan. His kisses changed from careful to fierce. He pulled back and looked me in the eyes again. ‘Is there somewhere we.
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