“Then you aren’t much cut out to be a model, are you. We don’t need distractions like you around here.” She threw herself into the comfy loveseat she kept for creative catnaps and flicked her fingers at her desk chair. “Take the edge off. I’ll wait.”
Those words stung and Stiles found himself squeezing the edge of the desk until he heard the wood splinter. He had worked his ass off to get where he was an no woman with a confused power struggle was going to make him doubt that. “I think I should take my leave now,” he said calmly, though a hint of venom could be heard in those words. “If you’re so distracted by my natural response maybe you should take the edge off yourself.” These words were hissed. Stiles stepped away from the desk and away from the woman in her loveseat.
Summer’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have an edge,” she hissed in reply. “Sit /down/.” Her voice took on, undisguised, the venom he’d concealed. “You didn’t answer my question, for one thing. If you’re going to be that distracted, you owe it to me, at least, to be less obvious.”