Chapter 16: Slow

Wynne let me in at the side door of the lodge without a word.

She took the shoebox out of my arms and pointed up the stairs.

"Last door on the left," she said. "He hasn't slept."

I climbed with my heart going hard.

His door was open a hand's width, and lamplight lay across the boards.

Corbin was sitting on the edge of the bed in his shirtsleeves with his elbows on his knees.

He looked up, and every muscle in him went still.

"You came," he said.

"I read them."

"All of them?"

"All fifteen. The dog was my favorite."

His mouth moved, and not quite into a smile.

I shut the door behind me and leaned on it.

"This isn't yes," I said. "I want that said out loud before anything else. I haven't answered the claim."

"I know."

"Rule three, Corbin."

"No claims," he said. "I remember."

"Tonight there are no claims. There's me, and I came here myself."

He stood up slowly.

He crossed the room, and he did not touch me, though I could feel his heat from a foot away.

"Tell me what you want," he said.

"I want to take that glove off."

He held out his left hand.

I peeled the leather back one finger at a time.

His hand came out pale and hot.

Across the back of it lay the crescent scar, a curve of small dents in a pale line.

I laid my own palm against it, and the marks matched.

"That's mine," I said.

"It's yours."

I lifted his hand and put my mouth on the scar.

He made a low, broken sound.

I felt the whole length of him shudder, and when I looked up his eyes were gold and wet.

"Larissa."

"Slowly," I said. "I want slowly. I've never had anyone slow."

He kissed me then.

It was careful at first, only his lips on mine, his hand coming up to hold my jaw.

I opened my mouth and felt his breath catch.

We stood there kissing for a long time.

His fingers worked the buttons of my flannel one at a time, and each time one gave, he stopped and kissed the skin it uncovered.

My collarbone.

The hollow under it.

The line between my breasts.

When the shirt fell, I turned my back to him.

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