Chapter 10: Ninety-Four

The door closed behind us, and for a moment neither of us touched the other.

His apartment was dark and enormous, with the harbor lit up on three sides of it.

He put his coat over a chair and stood with his back to the glass.

"I've wanted you since you walked into the gallery," he said.

"Did you bring me up here to talk, Mr. Maddox?"

"No."

"Then this is my answer."

I crossed the floor and took hold of his tie.

He let me pull it loose, and his eyes never left mine.

When the knot gave, he caught my wrist.

His thumb settled on my pulse, exactly where it had been in the hallway.

"Ninety-four," I said.

"A hundred and thirty," he said, and set my palm flat against his chest so I could feel it.

His heart was slamming under the shirt.

"That's not a medical assessment," I said.

"No."

He kissed me, and it was not like the car.

The car had been hunger.

This time he had decided to go slowly, and it was costing him.

His hands found the zipper at my back and drew it down one inch at a time.

He stopped between each inch to kiss the place it uncovered.

I started on his buttons.

I got four of them open, and he took over from there, because I was shaking.

"Your left hand," he said against my throat.

"Don't."

"Steady."

"Declan."

"Say it again."

I said it again.

He lifted me against him and carried me across the room.

The bed was wide and cold, and the sheets were the color of slate.

He laid me down and stood over me and simply looked.

"What?" I said.

"I'm making sure I remember it."

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