Chapter 9: No Audience

He carried me down off the stairs and across the great room.

He took me through the door of the bedroom on the ground floor.

I did not remember deciding to go with him.

I only remembered his mouth, and the hard line of his shoulders under my hands.

He set me on the edge of the bed and stood between my knees.

The lamp was low. Through the glass wall, the lake was the color of slate.

"This is the one rule I want," Cormick said.

His voice was unsteady.

"Tell me if you want me to stop. Tell me and I'll stop."

"I don't want you to stop."

"Eden."

"I want you to take your shirt off."

He undid the buttons one by one with fingers that weren't quite sure of themselves.

Then he pulled the shirt off and dropped it, and I put both hands flat on his chest.

He was warm, and broad, and there was a long pale scar along his ribs I hadn't known about.

"The same crash," he said, when my thumb found it. "I'll tell you later."

"Later," I agreed.

I leaned forward and kissed the scar.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth.

His hands went into my hair, and he tipped my head back and kissed me hard.

My sweater came off. My bra came off.

His mouth moved down my throat, then over my collarbone, then lower.

My hands tightened in his hair.

He took one breast in his hand and drew his tongue across the nipple.

I made a sound I'd never made in either life.

"Again," I said.

He did it again.

I had thought that he would be careful.

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