Chapter 11: Take Your Coat Off

The apartment was cold, and I didn't turn the heat on.

I shut the door behind us and stood with my back against it.

Soren stood in the middle of the room with snow melting off his boots.

He had taken off the work coat and held it in one hand.

"Put it down," I said.

He put it on the chair.

"Now the shirt."

He undid the flannel with big careful fingers, one button at a time, and I watched every one.

It was the first thing I had chosen in a week.

In four years, nobody had arranged it for me.

I crossed the room and put both palms flat on his chest.

He was warm, and his heart was going hard under my hand.

"Dorinda," he said, rough. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

"I'll tell you when I want you to stop."

"That's not the same."

"It's the one you're getting."

I pushed the shirt off his shoulders and kissed him.

He made a sound low in his chest and picked me up.

My legs went around his waist, and my back hit the wall by the window.

The whole cold room went away.

He kissed me plainly, with nothing held back and no show in it.

His hands were everywhere at once, under the parka I still hadn't taken off, under my sweater, on my ribs.

"Off," I said into his mouth. "All of it. Now."

He set me down and stripped me, fast, and he didn't stop looking at me.

When I stood in front of him with nothing on but the cold, his breath went out of him.

"God," he said. "You're something."

"Don't talk. Touch me."

He did.

He lifted me again and carried me to the bed.

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