That had been . . . devastating.
They both lay together for a moment, each catching their breath. Her body pressed against his, skin to skin, and he let himself appreciate the moment for a little longer—it wouldn’t be long now. She had what she wanted from him.
By God, she had torn him apart.
“I presume the candle has burnt itself out,” he said into the darkness.
“Yes.”
“I’ll need some light in order to clean myself up.” He cleared his throat, trying not to feel too awkward. Ordinarily, in situations like these, where they had no connection beyond what they had just done, he left and endeavoured never to see her again.
He had no idea how to transition back to something approaching friendship.
How did one become friends with one’s lover?
His hand twitched, and he wished he could reach for her. Give them both some space after the event where they could find some equilibrium.
Perhaps he was a romantic after all. What a galling realisation.
Her hand brushed his shoulder, then found his jaw. She cupped his cheek, then turned his face so he was facing her. The first bump of her lips in the dark was clumsy, but she soon found his mouth, and kissed him long and deep. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He exhaled a sigh of relief and kissed her back. “If you would like a repeat performance, all you need do is ask.” He smiled against her mouth, feeling the way her lips quirked in response. Being blind had its obvious disadvantages, but it had distinct advantages, too. In the absence of sight, his other senses had risen to the occasion, and he was conscious of all the places they touched.
He could feel the press of her hand against his skin, his stubble against the chapped scrape of her callouses.
“In fact,” he continued, “I would prefer to do it again if at all possible.”
Her chuckle shivered across his skin as she leant back. “I was worried you might not like it.”
“My tastes are adaptable. This was a first for me, but I wouldn’t object if that were the only way I were to experience the event from here on in. And if you would prefer further control—to tie me to the bed—then, darling, you can have me like that whenever you choose.”
“You talk as though it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” he said gently. “But truly, I enjoyed this. And you. I want everything you see fit to give me until our time runs out.”
He sensed rather than saw her smile drop. “That will be soon.”
And there it was. Reality, lodged like a stone in his boot. Uncomfortably pressing, unable to ignore for long. This was not their life; soon they would be leaving.
“It will,” he said.
“Perhaps even tomorrow.”
“Perhaps.”
The mattress shifted as she moved off it. He heard the scrape of material against skin as she no doubt found her nightgown and covered herself up. “Thank you for the opportunity to explore this,” she said after a moment, touching his leg as though to assure them both of her gratitude. “I truly did have a wonderful time.”
And it will not be happening again.
The unspoken words hung between them. And really, he shouldn’t have been surprised.
He sat up, removing the blindfold from his face. There was little more light without it, and he balled it in his fist, trying to force the awkwardness away. This was what she had asked for. He knew going in what she wanted from him.
“Tell me something,” he said, halfway across the room to his bed and the bowl of water that waited on the sideboard. “Was this enough to get it out of your system, Emily? Are you satisfied now?”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
“Liar,” he said under his breath, quiet enough that she didn’t hear him.
