<You’ll take it, milaya,> he told her. <I’m not going anywhere. I can keep this up all night. Same rhythm, same pressure. All night long. Open up, lean into it. This—and this—and this—until you come.>

As he talked, he inserted another finger, stretching her gently and then fucking her with his hand to the same rhythm of his words.

“I can’t do it,” she whispered unsteadily. “I-I’ve got to lie down.”

As she spoke, she listed to one side, then caught herself with a jerk.

Bed. What an excellent idea. He stood and swept her into his arms. “Where?”

She pointed to an open doorway. As he strode into a shadowed, simple bedroom with a double bed and two nightstands, a waft of fresh air blew in from the open french windows in the living room.

A lifetime of habit proved impossible to shake. Kneeling on the mattress, he eased her down onto it. “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded. The dark sparkle of her gaze followed him as he walked out. In the living room, he turned on a wall air conditioner and moved to secure the windows and pull the blinds into place. Then, unable to leave it at that, he cast quick spells over the windows and the door, enough to sound an alert if they were disturbed.

When he strode back into the bedroom, he found her sitting up in bed, arms wrapped around her knees. After a slight pause, he yanked off his tie, stripped off his suit jacket, and sat beside her.

“I’ve missed your protection spells.”

He absorbed that. “Not the basement though, eh?”

“No, not the basement.” She rested her cheek on one knee, her face angled toward him.

In the space of time it had taken him to secure the cottage, something critical had changed. He thought to ask what was wrong, but it seemed too heavy-handed in the delicate atmosphere. Instead, he stroked her back, waiting.

“I needed to see you,” he said in a quiet voice. “I didn’t welcome it, but I needed it.”

“Same here,” she whispered.

She hadn’t said no, or that she had changed her mind, so he stripped off his shirt, removed his socks and shoes, and stretched out on the bed. It felt as if he was putting down something he had been carrying for a very long time, and he let out a long sigh.

Playing the tips of his fingers down her spine, he said, “Or, if you want me to, I can go.”

She shook her head, and a lock of her hair fell over her eyes. “No, I want you to stay. I have something I need to tell you, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

He raised his head off the pillow to squint at her. “That sounds tricky.”