Chapter 16: The Lock

By ten that night Tiffany was asleep in the guest room with the housekeeper's cat on her feet.

Jo had gone home to film her own face saying "I told you so" for a camera nobody else would see.

My father had called twice to say that the contractor from the shop was telling everyone on Thames Street about the roses.

I stood in the doorway of Nathaniel's bedroom and looked at the bed.

It was big, dark wood, made up with plain gray sheets.

The door behind me had a lock.

I had checked.

He was at the window with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled to the elbow, looking at the water.

"You said you wanted to wake up in a room with no lock," I said.

"I did."

"This one has a lock."

"I'll take it off in the morning."

"Don't," I said. "Turn it."

He turned around.

I shut the door, and I turned the bolt myself, and the click was loud in the quiet room.

He crossed the floor without a word.

His hands framed my face, and he kissed me slowly, in no hurry at all.

I pulled at his shirt until the buttons gave, and he let me.

"Tell me what you want," I said against his mouth. "You said you had a list."

"All of it."

"Start with the first thing."

"You," he said, rough. "In my bed. With the door locked. Naked."

"That's easy."

I stepped back and took off my dress, and my bra, and my underwear, and I stood there while he looked at me.

He took his time doing it.

"Come here," he said, and his voice had dropped.

He lifted me onto the bed and stripped off the rest of his clothes.

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