Chapter 9: The Second Bedroom

He opened the door before my knuckles left the wood.

He was in the dark shirt still, with the sleeves pushed up and the buttons open at his throat.

He hadn't been sleeping either.

"You said slow," I said.

"I did."

"I changed my mind."

Bruce's breath went out of him.

"Leah. The rules."

"Nobody's watching."

"That's the point of the rules."

"Then break one with me."

He looked at me for a long time.

The hallway light was behind me, and his face was in shadow.

"Come in," he said, and stepped aside.

His room was plain and warm, with a wide bed and a lamp turned low.

The door closed behind me, and he put his hand flat on it above my head.

He didn't touch me.

"I'm going to put my hands on you the way I've wanted to for a week."

"You haven't done anything yet."

"That's what I'm about to fix." He said it roughly. "I've wanted to for a week."

I turned around.

His mouth was an inch from mine.

I closed it.

It was nothing like the courthouse.

There was no camera and no one to perform for, and he kissed me hungrily.

His hand slid into my hair.

Mine went to his shirt and pulled.

I felt him shudder.

"The dress," he said against my jaw.

"You promised."

"I did."

He found the strap at my shoulder and slid it down, and kissed the skin it uncovered.

Then the other.

The green fabric loosened and slipped to my waist, and the cold air touched my back, and I gasped.

"Look at me," Bruce said.

I did.

His eyes were black in the low light. His hands were shaking, just slightly.

"I want to go slowly," he said. "I want to do this right."

"I told you I don't want slow."

"I know what you told me."

"Bruce." I took his hand and set it on my ribs.

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