Chapter 23: Mrs. Ferrante, Twice

He did not turn on a light.

The lamp in the hall threw a long yellow stripe up the stairs.

The whole city glittered in the bedroom window.

I stood in front of that window in my dinner dress.

Dominic stood behind me and slid the zipper down, an inch at a time.

He kissed each bone of my spine as it came bare.

"Slow," I said.

"You said you didn't want slow."

"That was the wall."

I felt him smile against my shoulder.

The dress dropped.

He lifted me onto the bed and lay down behind me.

He drew me back against his chest, with one arm under my head.

His hand moved over my stomach and my hip, warm and unhurried.

I closed my eyes.

"Tell me when," he said.

"Not yet."

He kissed my neck.

His fingers found me, slick and aching, and circled me so gently that I whimpered and pushed back against him.

I felt how hard he was against the small of my back.

"Dominic."

"I'm here."

"Now."

He lifted my knee and slid into me from behind, one slow, deep push.

I gasped, and his arm tightened around my ribs.

It was nothing like the first night.

There was no hurry in it.

He moved in me.

His mouth stayed against my ear, and his hand lay low on my belly, pressing me back to meet him.

Every stroke was long and full.

I turned my head, and he kissed me, open and slow.

"I love you," I said.

His rhythm broke.

"Say it again."

"I love you. I didn't expect to, and I do."

He made a sound I felt in my chest.

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