Chapter 24: The Porch

"Yes," I said.

He stared at me.

"Yes, I'll stay. And I'll pay no rent, and I'll leave my coat on your hook, and I'll tell you when I'm angry."

"Every time."

He kissed me on the dock, slowly, with both hands on my face.

There was nothing to hold back, and neither of us hurried.

We went up through the dark house on bare feet.

A light was on in the guest wing, and a small voice was asking about geese.

In his room the lamp was lit, and the bed was still unmade from the week.

He undressed me by the window, one button and then the next, and this time I let him.

I pushed his shirt off his shoulders and put my mouth against the scar on his rib.

He laid me down on the sheets and kissed my bruise, my collarbone, my breast, and stayed there until I arched.

"Look at me," I said.

He looked up with his mouth on my skin and his green eyes dark.

"I want to see you," I said. "All of it. For once I want the light on."

He moved over me and pushed inside, slow, all the way, and held there while I shook.

"Okay?" he said.

"Better than okay."

I wrapped my legs around his hips and drew him deeper.

He rocked into me, long and steady, his forehead against mine, and every stroke dragged a low sound out of my chest.

"Brennan."

"I've got you."

"I know," I said, and found that I did.

I came with his name in my mouth, slow and deep and shaking, and his hips stuttered, and he followed me with a groan against my neck.

We lay tangled in the lamplight, breathing.

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