Chapter 19: Louisa's Choice

On Saturday morning Mitch woke me by kissing the back of my shoulder.

The curtains were open on a gray, snowy sky, and the room was warm.

"It's seven," he said into my skin. "You have until ten."

"Then I'm not getting up."

I turned over, and he was propped on one elbow, watching me.

I had not seen that look on him before.

It was not hunger.

It was something quieter, and it went all the way down.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi."

He put his hand on my cheek and kissed me.

It was slow, and he took his time with it, and I felt my whole body unclench.

"I don't want to be handled today," I said.

"I'm not handling you."

"I know."

"I'm doing this because I want to," Mitch said. "That's all."

He slid his hand down my side and over my hip.

I pulled him closer, and the sheet fell away, and we did not hurry.

He kissed my throat and my collarbone and the scar on my thumb.

I held his face in both hands.

"Look at me," I said, and he did.

When he moved inside me, we both went still for a moment.

Then he started, deep and slow, and I wrapped my legs around him and matched every stroke.

"Willa."

"Don't stop."

"I'm not going anywhere."

I knew he meant the room.

I knew he meant more than that.

I came slowly, with his mouth on mine and his hand locked in my hair.

He followed, saying my name against my neck.

We lay there in the gray light with our hearts going.