Chapter 22: Stop Being Careful

Niall got her father back into his room at Harbor House by nine.

Maeve was quiet the whole way to her apartment.

She did not speak on the stairs.

She did not speak when she unlocked the door.

She shut it behind them and stood in the dark hall with her back against it.

He did not turn on the lamp.

"Say something," he said.

"I told her no."

"You did."

"I've never told her no. Not once in thirty-two years." Her voice was thin. "I thought it would feel like winning."

"It doesn't?"

"I'm shaking, and I want to laugh, and I want to be sick."

He crossed the hall and put his hands on either side of her face.

He had been careful with her for five days.

He had stopped short every time, and kept his mouth gentle and his hands slow.

Tonight she looked at him in the dark and did not look away.

"Stop being careful," she said.

"Maeve."

"I'm not made of glass. I told my mother no in front of forty people."

She took his wrists and pulled his hands down to her hips.

"You can put your hands on me."

His control went.

He kissed her hard, and she made a low, pleased sound against his mouth.

He lifted her off the floor, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

He carried her three steps to the kitchen.

He set her on the edge of the counter, with the lights still off.

Her dress had a zipper down the back.

He pulled it open so fast it caught, and she laughed.

He swore, and then it came free, and he dragged the sleeves down her arms.

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