“Like your love?”

Søren dipped his head and kissed her from her neck to the tip of her shoulder. She exhaled with bliss as his lips met her skin. No other lover had ever made her feel what Søren could.

“You haven’t broken me yet,” he said into her ear. It took everything she had to keep from turning around and sinking into his arms. “Are you following my rule still, Eleanor?”

Nora bit her bottom lip. “Yes. Mostly. More or less.”

“Eleanor…” he said in a warning tone.

“I do write about you,” she admitted. “All the time. But I always delete or shred it.”

“Then why do you write about me, about us, if you destroy your own words?”

“They aren’t just words. They’re memories. I like to read them, hold them in my hands. And then I can let them go. A little bit at least.”

“You will never love anyone as you love me,” Søren said and as much as she wanted to slap him for his arrogance, she couldn’t disagree. “Not even Wesley. Not even him.” Søren’s eyes came to rest on Zach at the bar talking with Griffin. “But I think you care for him more than you realize. This must be terrifying for you.”

“It is terrifying,” she admitted. “Zach’s my editor. He’s the first person who ever treated me as a serious writer.”

“I told you that you should be a writer when you were seventeen years old,” he reminded her.

Nora smiled at the memory. She’d written a short story for her English class that had gotten her into big trouble at her Catholic high school. Only the intervention of her priest had kept her from getting hauled in front of a whole team of doctors and psychiatric personnel.

“I assumed you were a little biased where I was concerned.”

“Perhaps I was,” he admitted with a smile. “But I knew talent when I saw it. So what will you do with him?” Søren nodded toward Zach.

Nora watched Zach through the two-way mirror. Griffin leaned in close and Zach managed to recoil without even moving—a very English feat.

“It’s not just about sex this time. Not entirely. Zach’s got secrets, bad ones. I want to help him but I don’t even know where to start. What do you think?”

Søren looked at her and she had to fight her training to keep her eye contact with him. Once in a private moment like this she would never have met his eyes without his permission. But that was so long ago. Søren sighed and shook his head.

“My Eleanor…someday perhaps I’ll learn to tell you ‘no.’”