Chapter 23: The Night Watch

Tobias did not hurry.

He stood in front of her in the dark of the suite and began to undo the buttons of her shirt, one at a time, from the top.

"You've never let me do this," he said.

"You were sick."

"I'm still sick."

"You know what I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean." He slid the shirt off her shoulders. "Tonight you don't carry anything, either."

She almost laughed.

Then his mouth touched the hollow of her throat, and she forgot what she was going to say.

He undressed her slowly, the way she had once undressed him.

He kissed every bruise.

He kissed the stitched line on her thigh, kneeling on the carpet, with his hands around her hips, and the scar under her breast last of all.

"Damon did this," he said against it.

"Yes."

"I'd like to put my mouth where he put the knife, every night, until you forget."

She made a sound that was not a word.

He stood and lifted her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he carried her to the bed.

He was shaking with the weight, and she let him.

He laid her down among the pillows and stretched out beside her.

"Tell me what you want," he said.

It was a hard question.

She had spent two lives knowing what everyone else needed.

"Touch me," she said. "Everywhere. Slowly. I want to feel all of it."

"Done."

His hand moved down her ribs, over her stomach, between her thighs.

He found her wet and hot, and his breath caught.

"You're already..."

"Since you turned that lock," she said. "Before that, honestly."

He laughed against her neck, low and delighted.

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