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William soon regretted wanting to witness Buffy’s passionate ire. In fact, he didn’t even get to see it. Not right away anyway. She’d remained cool as a cucumber while speaking with Giles and she did inform him that her stay there was not definite; just something she was toying with and she did not think it fair to start work for him if she so happened to end up leaving.

William wanted to shake her at that point. His uncle took it all in stride however, and thanked her for her honesty. He expressed that it’d be a great delight to work with her, and it was not everyday one got the chance to work abroad, so to please consider it. Buffy was gracious about thanking him and they left. The walk back to William’s car was met with silence, and the ride back to his home was also met with silence. Her annoyance he could handle – and in a sick twisted way, looked forward to it. He wanted to see the fury in her eyes when she hollered at him. He probably needed help for it, but it turned him on. It caused all sorts of images to float to his mind from dominatrix to a prim and proper school marm that punished him for being a naughty boy. Plus, it was another display of all that trapped emotion inside her. The more it was unleashed, the more he felt she came closer to the person she was supposed to be. Contained Buffy Summers was not who she was meant to be. Unleashed and free Buffy Summers was who she was meant to be.

It wasn’t until he’d parked and they’d gotten out of the car that she said anything. Glaring at him over the roof of the car, she simply said, “You know…you’re as bad as Dru,” and she walked away.

Okay, well, what was he supposed to do with that? Following her into the house, he said “And what is that supposed to mean exactly?”

She spun to him, and oh yes, there was that fury in her eyes. He bit back a smile at the sight.

“It means you have no right springing sneaky attacks on me like that.”

“Sneaky attacks?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Please, William, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Going to a museum under the pretense of viewing the art, and then meeting your uncle, but then he comes at me with a job offer – and you’re the one that let him know beforehand obviously.”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted.

Throwing up her hands she stalked into her bedroom, and William followed her. “Buffy, I figured it might help in your decision to stay if you knew the options you had. What are you doing?”

“Packing. What does it look like?”

“Where the bloody hell are you going?”

“To the mansion.”

“No, I don’t want you to go.”

“Oh, then by all means let me stay because you don’t want me to leave. You know, Dru tried many times to run my life and tell me how I should do things and I always hated it. I am fine on my own; I’ve done it for a long time. I don’t need someone telling me how I should do this or that, or how I should live my life. I had enough of that with my parents.“

William sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Buffy, I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life. I just want…I just want you to be happy!”

“How do you know I’m not happy the way I am?” she demanded, ceasing packing and facing him.

“Oh come on, you’re not happy. You’re going through the motions at best, Buffy. You have no friends—“

“I have friends!” she protested.

“Friends you admitted you barely see. Friends that you have not called once since you’ve been here, friends you have not talked about at all. I think you have acquaintances you talk to once in a while if you run into them, or maybe co-workers that you engage in conversation with but then don’t talk to once you’ve left work. And maybe they’ve asked you to go out once in a while, but you always said ‘No’. So they gave up, and maybe you didn’t necessarily want them to give up asking you, but you didn’t know how to say ‘Yes’. And it frightens you that you might actually go out and have a good time! So much easier to stay all shut tight and not let anyone in than it is to let loose and have some fun – you might actually make attachments that way!”

She marched up to him, her eyes wild and filling with tears. He knew what she intended before it happened; it was that way he was able to stop the hand that was coming to slap his face. He grabbed her hand, and she immediately lifted her other. He grabbed that one too. Her chest was heaving, and she was practically panting from the force and intensity of her anger. Her green eyes were even greener than normal, and unshed tears made them sparkle all the more. Her hair was wild, fanning around her face and she stared at him, trying to reign in her anger.

“That’s it,” he said and drew her to him in one quick motion, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hard. She hesitated at first, pushing at him, but he held on and soon she gave in, kissing him back just as hotly.

Unable to stop himself from doing so, he walked her back to the bed and they fell into it in a heap. Whether it was the book, the experience they had in the bookstore, her anger at him or a culmination of all of them, Buffy was now clawing at him, pulling his shirt up until her hands made contact with his skin, her nails clawing up his back, though she made no move to take it off, and he made no move to do so.

Growling, he shoved his hands under her own shirt, needing desperately to feel her skin against his own. God, she was hot under his hands. His hands slid over her bra covered breasts and he groaned at the feel of that perfect flesh under his hands. He wanted more. He wanted to rip her shirt off her and suckle each breast in his mouth.

“Buffy, let me, please,” he nearly begged, toying with the buttons of her shirt.

Gulping, she nodded, and he didn’t give her anytime to think. His hands moved so fast over her shirt, he was sure he was going to pop a few buttons off, but he didn’t care. Shoving her shirt apart, she was laid bare – still slightly covered by shirt and bra, but God, that creamy skin! Diving in with a growl, William kissed the tops of her breasts, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses on them, tasting the salt of her skin. His eyes rolled up in his head at the feel and taste. Inching her bra down slowly, to give her time to protest, he was delighted when she didn’t. Exposing her milky white breast to his gaze, William looked up at her, meeting her uncertain, but lustful gaze. “You are so gorgeous, Buffy.”

She bit her lip and shook her head.

“Yes,” he breathed, reaching up and kissing her slowly and softly. “Yes, you are. So incredibly gorgeous. I want to –“ he stopped himself from finishing that sentence and instead paid attention to the flesh before him.

Bending his head, he licked up her nipple on her right breast. She moaned, and the sound was music to his ears. He suckled her breast into his mouth, placing his hand over the other one and flicking his thumb across her nipple. Teasing the one in his mouth with the tip of his tongue, William took pleasure in the way Buffy was squirming underneath him.

Moving to the other breast to give it equal attention, William was lost. He was a man completely lost. There wasn’t anything about her that didn’t draw him in. There wasn’t anything about her that he didn’t want, and on some primal level, there wasn’t anything about her that he didn’t want to possess and make his. He wanted her with a desperation that frightened him. He felt a ping of guilt as he thought of Fred and how he had loved her, how she had touched his heart, but Buffy…Buffy touched his soul.

“Will, please,” Buffy moaned, tugging on his hair.

He lifted his head, meeting her eyes. “What’s wrong, luv?”

“You have to . . . stop.”

“Are you all right?” he asked tenderly, cupping the side of her face with his hand.

The tears that had been in her eyes before spilled over. She nodded mutely and turned her head from him.

“Buffy?” he questioned gently.

She shook her head, and he rolled off her. She rolled to her side, curled into a ball and cried. He wasn’t going to leave her like this that was for sure. Rolling to his side, he inched closer to her and spooned up against her back. He draped an arm across her and rested his chin on her shoulder, holding her as she wept.





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