Chapter 17: The Long Night

He came up the steps one at a time.

I stood in the open door with the kitchen light behind me and watched him do it.

At the top he stopped, close enough that I felt the heat coming off his coat.

"Last chance," he said.

"I'm not the one who's hesitating."

"I'm not hesitating."

"Then why are you still on the porch?"

He walked me backward into Gran's kitchen, and the door swung shut behind him with his heel.

He kissed me against the refrigerator, hard, and a magnet fell off and skittered across the linoleum.

Neither of us looked at it.

His hands went inside my coat and pushed it off my shoulders.

It hit the floor with a soft thump.

"You're cold," he said against my neck.

"I'm not."

"Your hands are."

"Then do something about it."

He took my hands and put them under his shirt, flat against his stomach.

His skin was hot and hard, and the muscle jumped under my palms.

He breathed out through his teeth.

"That's better," I said.

"It's a lot better."

I slid my hands up his ribs.

He made that low sound again, the one from the car, and kissed the side of my throat.

I tipped my head back.

Nobody had touched me like I was wanted in more than a year.

"Bedroom," I said. "Upstairs. Now."

"Which door?"

"Second on the left. It has Gran's quilt."

He picked me up.

I made a startled noise.

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