Chapter 20: It Can Happen Again

Beckett's kitchen was white and cold and enormous, and it had not changed since March.

I stood where I had stood that Tuesday morning, in my coat, with my back to the counter.

He shut the front door behind us and stayed by it.

"You brought me here," he said.

"This is where you said it."

His face tightened.

"I know."

"Then say the other one. The one I should have heard."

He crossed the floor slowly.

He stopped so close that the wool of my coat brushed his shirt.

"That can happen again," Beckett said. "It can happen every night. It was never a mistake, and I'll say so in any room you like."

I took hold of his collar and pulled him down.

His mouth came open under mine, and he kissed me hungrily.

His hands went to the buttons of my coat, and he undid them one by one, taking his time, and I let him.

He pushed it off my shoulders.

It fell on the tiles, and my dress went after it, over my head, and I stood in front of him in my underwear in the same kitchen.

"God," he said, hoarse. "Look at you."

"Look later."

I lifted myself up onto the counter, and the marble was cold against the backs of my thighs.

I pulled him between my knees, and the heat of him came straight through his trousers.

He kissed my neck and my breasts, and when he pulled the bra aside and took my nipple into his mouth I arched against him with a cry.

"Beckett."

"Yes."

"Let me."

I pushed at his chest until he stepped back.

I slid down off the counter and went to my knees on my own coat.

He said my name, a low, shocked sound, and his hand shook as it came down into my hair.

I opened his belt and took him out.

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