Chapter 19: Not Yet

Flynn didn't say one word in the elevator.

He stood with his shoulder against the brass rail and watched the numbers change.

The professor had landed at noon and eaten a plate of oysters in our room.

She had listened to the whole story of the lobby, and she had left at nine with her lips pressed together.

"I'll bring your canvas to the hall tomorrow," she had said at the door. "Sleep."

Now the door shut behind us, and the room was very quiet.

Flynn took off his jacket and hung it on the chair.

Then he stood at the window with his back to me.

"You can say it," I said.

"Not tonight."

"You've said that twice. I'd rather you were angry."

"I'm not angry." He turned. "I'm tired, and I'm trying to be a decent person, and you're making it hard."

"How am I making it hard?"

"You're standing there in my shirt."

I looked down.

It was the denim shirt he had left on the professor's couch, and I had put it on that afternoon without thinking.

It came to the middle of my thighs.

"Take it off, then," I said.

Something went across his face, quick and rough.

"Saskia."

"I'm not apologizing. I'm asking."

He crossed the room in three steps.

His hands went into my hair and he kissed me, hard enough that I had to hold his wrists.

I backed up until the edge of the bed hit my knees, and I tugged at his belt.

He made a low sound against my mouth and pulled the shirt over my head.

The air in the room was cool on my skin.

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