Chapter 15: The Door Closes

Burke shut the apartment door behind us and leaned his back against it.

He looked at me across the single lamp and the clean tower of dishes.

"Last chance," he said. "Tell me to put you in the car and drive you to Greta."

"No."

"Macy."

"You said you'd rather be the one I choose when I'm not hurting." I dropped my bag on his table. "I'm choosing."

He crossed the room in three steps.

His hands were in my hair before I finished the sentence.

His mouth came down on mine, and there was nothing careful in it.

I made a sound I had never made in my life.

He walked me backward until my shoulder blades hit the wall by the bedroom door.

He held my wrists above my head with one hand.

"Say it again," he said against my jaw.

"I want you."

"Where?"

"Everywhere. Now."

His laugh was low and shaky, and he let go of my wrists so I could unbutton his shirt.

I got three buttons open and gave up and pulled, and the rest went across the floor.

His chest was warm and solid, with a scar under the left ribs that I put my mouth on.

He swore softly, and his hands closed on my hips.

"It's from a fence," he said. "Not a good story."

He found the hem of my shirt and lifted it, and then he stopped and just looked.

My bra was plain and old, and I wished suddenly that it weren't.

"Don't," he said, watching my face. "Don't do that. You're the best thing I've seen in a year."

He kissed the top of one breast and then the other, slowly, as if he had all night.

I arched into his mouth and pushed my fingers into his hair.

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