“Oh.” Wren blinked away tears. No response could be sufficient. She wanted desperately to tell him something, anything, to communicate how much he’d taught her, how much she felt. But her panicked mind supplied only one humiliating platitude. “That’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“I’m glad.” Hal rested his chin on her knee. “Although I don’t feel much like talking anymore.”

She could taste those words like honey spooned into her mouth. There was something so vulnerable, so plain in his yearning, it narrowed her world to the sensation of his skin on hers. To this moment, where she could convince herself they had forever instead of this stolen night.

She carded her hand through his hair. “Maybe we could do something else instead?”

“Something else?” he asked huskily.

He began to draw up her dress, and her breath hitched. With him brushing kisses up her thighs, she couldn’t seem to remember why the statue had bothered her anymore. She wasn’t even sure she remembered her own name when she felt the heat of his mouth against her. Her head fell back uselessly, and a helpless sound escaped her throat. It was too much. She’d fall apart—she was falling apart, the backs of her eyelids shining golden. It was all she could do to ground herself: her fingers buried in his hair, his name on her lips like an incantation, and—

He pulled back, eyes glittering with something like mischief. He left her gasping as she crashed violently back into her body. Before he could say anything, she pulled him in by his lapels and kissed him. Desperation roughened her. Her nails dug into his shoulder, her teeth into his lip. He sucked in an audible breath, equal parts pain and desire. She tasted blood, copper, and adrenaline. A painful reminder that she’d almost lost him and that she might again.

How dare you leave me? she wanted to ask. What would I have done?

He held her close, steady. His palms were warm on her waist, his thumbs tracing the arc of her ribs. I’m here now, he seemed to say. I’m with you.

Wren drew back, panting into the bare space between their lips. In his eyes, she saw her own yearning mirrored: more. He gathered up the edge of her dress and said, “Can I take this off?”

“Please.”

Hal lifted her nightdress inch by inch over her head, the thin fabric a caress against her skin. Next came her chemise, each layer removed as carefully as the last. When he cast everything aside, leaving her naked under his gaze, Wren had to look away from him. His admiration embarrassed her as much as it thrilled her.

“What?”

“You’re so beautiful.”