Page 99 of So Close

You leave my bed, and I hear the soft pad of your footfalls as you head into my bathroom. You’ve abandoned your bedroom with its portrait of Lily and now share my room and bed. Your toiletries surround my second sink. You keep your closet as before, but there’s a section in mine where you keep a few items. I like seeing our things together.

My room smells like the two of us now. I hope we’ll have the opportunity to fine-tune our master suite in a way that clearly defines one room asours. I hope for a lot of things. With every day that passes, I hope for more and more.

But those possibilities only exist if I succeed today.

I roll to my side of the bed and pop a mint in my mouth. I hear the rush of water in the sink. What do you think of in these moments while you prepare to make love to me? I wish I could read your mind. It’s not the act of shaving that gives you an erection.

The water turns off, and my nipples bead tightly. Between my legs, my sex dampens with need. You have me well trained; my circadian rhythm has become inextricably entwined with your desire. I curl back onto my side as you return fully naked and aroused. I smile as you lift the sheets and slide between them.

“Hey,” you murmur, returning my smile as you hitch an arm beneath me and move me to the center of the mattress. You blanket my body with yours, your skin cool and your flesh hot. Your jaw is damp and whisker-free.

Your lips seal over mine. I fall into the drugging arousal of your intoxicating kiss.

An hour passes before you collapse onto your back beside me, dripping sweat and breathing hard. My entire body tingles and throbs, even my toes and the tips of my fingers. The abundant wetness coating my sex illustrates the intensity of your climax. Sunlight now pours through the enormous unadorned window in the bathroom, infusing the room with enough ambient light to see clearly.

You feel around for my hand and link our fingers. “There’s no hurry for me to go back to the office. I’m managing just fine from here.”

Turning my head, I meet your gaze. Your eyes reveal concern and so much love it steals my breath. I can hide many things from you, butIcan’t hide from you. You see me so well and read my feelings so clearly. You must’ve sensed my turmoil. I hate feeling so anxious about the hours looming ahead, yet I know it would be wrong to feel calm. That apprehension will keep me on my toes and separates me from my mother.

I lift our joined hands to my mouth and kiss your knuckles. “I just want you to be careful. Be overly cautious, even if it makes you feel silly. Do it for me.”

You face me and brush the damp tendrils of hair off my cheek. Then you kiss me softly and sweetly. “I’ll do anything for you, silly or not.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m working on our Val Laska problem. I’ve got a lot of men on it. And the NYPD is all over him, too.”

“I know.”

The curve of your mouth is supremely confident and undeniably sexy. “You’re okay? Really?”

“I just had three orgasms, Kane,” I say drily. “I’m more than okay. Go. Get ready. I may have a surprise for you before you head out to conquer the world.”

Your brows lift. “Give me a hint.”

“No. Get moving if you want to find out.”

You heave an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh and rise from the bed. “When have I ever left you in suspense?”

I laugh. “As often as possible, and you know it!”

Considerately, you go to your shower so I can get ready in mine. I dry my hair and make up my face.

I know I should dress, but I can’t muster the energy to change again, as I’ll have to once you leave. So, I stay in my kimono. There’s so much to do and so much risk involved in doing it. I’ll have to live up to my fullest potential. I must be everything my mother ever hoped I would become.

When I see you next, it’s in my vanity mirror’s reflection. Witte’s freshly trimmed your hair, although it’s now closer in length to how you wore it in college than it was when I woke up in the hospital. You’ve dressed in a navy three-piece suit, the rich material boasting a slight sheen. The color is beautiful, something like midnight sapphire, and you’ve paired it with a pearl-gray dress shirt and tie. The lilies on your cufflinks squeeze my heart a little.

I’m so arrested by how urbanely handsome you are I forget what I was doing until you take the silver-handled brush from my nerveless fingers. You grab its twin from the vanity and take over the job, using both hands in an easy rhythm.

My eyes close as you carefully run the boar bristles through my hair. It’s not the same with short hair, is it? Hardly a need to use both brushes, but you do, and you’re adept at the task.

“I honestly pity every other woman in the world,” I tell you. “They’ll want you, but they’ll never have you.”

“You’re stalling.” Your voice is low and warm with amusement.

“Haven’t you heard of delayed gratification?”

“Yes, and it doesn’t suit me.”

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