“It’s okay,” I said, taking his hand and placing it over my left breast. The blood rose to his face and his eyes widened and seemed to burn into mine, and then he bent his head and carefully, methodically stroked my breasts and my throat. The red marks faded under his hands and warmth poured into my body. When he reached my stomach the warmth pooled in my navel and cascaded down my legs like a waterfall. I’d felt like this before but at the moment I couldn’t remember when. Nothing seemed to exist but Bill’s hands touching me … caressing me …

Then his touch changed. His hands moved slower, lingered, and trembled. He was trembling I saw when I looked at him, shaking as if he’d absorbed the poison into him. His eyes caught mine and I felt something click. The wards that had been loosened inside me began to melt. When he met my eyes, he took his hands off of me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …” he began. He was always apologizing to me, I realized. And yet he had been unfailingly kind and gentle to me since we’d met – only two days ago, a little voice reminded me. But I shushed that voice. Looking into Bill’s eyes, I felt I’d known him forever. His hands on me felt more right than anything had felt since … well since forever. I wanted them on me again. Right now.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I murmured as I pulled his head down to mine and found his lips. He moaned as he kissed me, a deep sound that I felt reverberating in his chest as I slid my hands beneath his shirt, something between a growl and a purr. There was tension in his body, as if he were holding himself very tight, afraid he might hurt me. I pressed against him and forced his mouth open with my tongue, wanting to break through.

There are some things better than safe, my mother had said.

He gasped and pulled back, looking into my eyes, a question in his, and then, as if that question had been answered, he slid one arm under my hips and pulled me down, sliding between my legs. I felt him hard, straining against his jeans, pressed against my belly. I struggled with buttons while he stripped off that damned flannel shirt. Beneath it his chest was smooth, his skin golden. I ran my hand over those smooth rippling muscles and heard him gasp as my hand brush against his erection.

“Kay-lex!” My name came out as a growl – when had he learned to say it right? I thought – and then he was inside me and I didn’t think at all.