Chapter 23: Archer Avenue

At midnight someone knocked on my door.

Three times, soft and even, with the flat of a knuckle.

I opened it.

Lev stood in the corridor in his shirtsleeves, with his hands at his sides and his hair damp from the shower.

"Is that what you wanted?" he said. "A man who knocks?"

"Come in."

"Not here."

"Why not here?"

"Your father is thirty feet away," he said, and I laughed out loud. "I've had enough of that. Come up with me."

He took my hand and led me up the iron stairs to the roof.

The night was warm.

The tar paper held the heat of the day, and the whole city lay below us, orange and enormous.

He had spread his grey coat on the roof by the chimney stack.

"You planned this," I said.

"For five years."

"Lev."

"I thought of a lot of places. I never thought you'd say yes to any of them." He turned me to face him. "There are no terms tonight."

"None?"

"One." His voice dropped. "You tell me to stop, I stop."

"I won't."

"Then I'll stop when you're asleep."

I pulled his shirt over his head.

The scar from the bullet was a clean pink star on his shoulder, and I put my mouth on it.

His whole body tightened.

"Nika."

"Say it again."

"Nika."

I kissed his collarbone, the hollow of his throat, his jaw.

He slid his hands under my nightshirt and lifted it, and there was nothing under it.

He stopped.

"You came to the door like that?"

"You knocked. I wasn't going to dress for you."

He made a low sound and went to his knees on the coat, and pulled me down with him.

We kissed hard, with his hand fisted in my hair and my fingers dug into his back.

He laid me down on the wool.

It was rough against my spine, and warm from his body.

He kissed down my breastbone, taking his time, and closed his mouth over my nipple.

I arched.

He sucked, then bit very gently, and my hips came off the coat.

"Lev, please."

"Please what?"

"You know what."

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