Chapter 7: First Night

We did not make it past the library.

He kissed me until the light in the tall windows went from white to gold, and then he said against my mouth, "Lock the door."

I locked it.

When I turned around he was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed.

His bad leg was stretched out and his hands were braced on the mattress.

"Come here," he said.

I went.

He took the hem of my gray scrub top in both fists and pulled it over my head.

He looked at me for a long moment in my plain cotton bra.

"Take it off," he said.

I reached behind me and undid it.

His breath went out of him in a rough sound.

He put both hands on my breasts, big and warm and callused.

His thumbs dragged across my nipples until I gasped.

"Lorne."

"I know." He leaned forward and took one in his mouth.

I put my hands in his hair.

I had never in my life been wanted like this, with his whole attention.

He sucked and licked and turned his head to the other side, and my knees began to shake.

"Careful," I said, "I'm supposed to be the one holding you up."

"Not tonight." He bit gently, and I felt it low in my belly. "Take off the rest."

I stepped out of my pants and my underwear and stood naked in front of him, in a library, in the daylight.

His gray eyes went over every inch of me.

"God, look at you," he said, and his voice was not steady.

I undid his shirt with fingers that did not work well, and pushed it off his shoulders.

His chest was broad and scarred, and the old crest on his forearm moved as he flexed his hand.

The long surgical line ran from his hip to his knee, and I bent and put my mouth on it.

His whole body jerked.

"Wynne."

"It's mine," I said against the scar. "I've worked on it for three days. It's mine."

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