Chapter 8: No Strings

Service ended at eleven.

The power had been back for hours, and the last table had gone out into the dark, warm and loud and happy.

Hugh walked me up the back stairs to the flat.

He had never walked me up before.

At the door I took out my key, and my hand wouldn't turn it.

"Lydia," he said behind me.

"Don't say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're going to be good."

I turned around.

He stood two steps below me, so his face was level with mine, and he had the look I had felt in the walk-in.

"A month," I said. "No strings. That was the deal."

"That was the deal."

"I think I'm going to break it."

"Then I'll break it with you."

I kissed him.

His mouth was warm and tasted like coffee and lime, and he made a low sound in his throat.

He got the door open behind me without looking.

We went in together, still kissing, and he shut it with his heel.

He pressed me back against the wood.

His hands slid under my black shirt and up my ribs, and I gasped into his mouth.

"Off," I said, and pulled at his collar.

He undid the buttons so fast one of them hit the floor.

I got my hands on his chest.

It was broad and hot, with dark hair that ran down his stomach to his belt, and I dragged my nails down it and felt every muscle jump.

"Fuck," he said.

"That's the idea."

He pulled my shirt over my head and unhooked my bra in one move.

His mouth went to my breast.

He sucked my nipple hard, and I threw my head back against the door and held onto his hair.

"Hugh."

"Say it again."

"Hugh."

He lifted me.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he carried me across the room and put me down on the bed with the hospital corners.

He pulled off my jeans and my underwear together.

Then he went down on his knees beside the bed and put his face between my thighs.

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