I tried to speak, but he locked my lips with hungry kisses.I knew this was not what I wanted. Brett was not even on my radar this year. My junior year had goals that he would only get in the way of. I will not allow myself to earn the “slut reputation” at the first party of my junior year. No drunken-easy-girl here.“Oh, Angela.”Startled that he had actually said my real name, for the first time in a long time. I turned my face away, looking out the open door to the hallway. I tugged at his wrist, but his fingers were engaged.He kissed my neck and repeated, “Oh, Angela.”I could have gone with it. It did feel good. That kind of attention is what daydreams are made of. But, at least at this moment, it’s not going to be with Brett Hammond.I heard the back door open and shut. Someone was coming.“I can’t,” I had found my voice.“Brett. Please. Stop.”This time, he let me pull his hand out of my pants. I was woozy. He righted his head to look at me, my saliva glistened on his lips. I squirmed. He had told me, a few years before, about the company’s half-hearted efforts to get him to retire. His bosses had soon backed down in the face of his hints about possible great discoveries on the horizon, interspersed with veiled threats to spill their secrets to the competition. I suspect they were not all that sorry to see him stay on, since for all his secretiveness, irascibility, and eccentricity he was undeniably one of the world’s leading geneticists and biochemists and the company raked in millions from many products he had developed. And another thing: he never went after them for a share of the proceeds. Being his only close relative, I deplored this self-denial as much as the company must have appreciated it. But on the one and only occasion I had ventured to suggest that he ought to hold out for more of the action, my reward had been a furious tirade in which he accused me of sordid personal financial motives (of course he was quite right) and gave me very firmly to.
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