Chapter 26: Against the Glass

Bridget cooked anyway.

She made a pot of pasta and swore at the stove for an hour, and Nathaniel ate every bite without saying a word.

At ten she took the guest room and shut the door hard enough to be heard.

"Be loud if you want," she called through it. "I wear earplugs. I'm a nurse."

Nathaniel didn't smile.

He stood at the window in the dark living room with the river lights below him, and his shoulders were set hard.

"Four years," he said. "She wrote me a letter before she died, and he sat on it."

"We'll go in the morning."

"I can't go in that house."

"Then I'll go in with you."

I came up behind him and put my arms around his waist.

He was rigid for a moment, and then he leaned back into me, all of him, and let out a rough breath.

"I don't want to think tonight," he said.

"Then don't."

I turned him around by his belt and kissed him.

He kissed me back hungrily, with one hand in my hair and the other flat on the glass behind me.

"Imogen."

"Take me to bed."

"Here," he said. "I want you here. Against the window."

My stomach dropped.

"Anyone could see us."

"Nobody can see us. We're forty floors up." His mouth was on my throat. "Let them try."

I pulled his shirt open and the buttons skittered across the floor.

He lifted my sweater over my head and dropped it, and unhooked my bra with one flick of his fingers.

The glass was cold on my back and his chest was hot against my breasts.

He sucked my nipple into his mouth, and I gripped his hair and moaned out loud.

"Louder," he said against my skin.

"Bridget will hear."

"Bridget wears earplugs."

I laughed, and it turned into a gasp when he got my jeans open and pushed his hand inside my underwear.

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