I bring her wrist to my mouth and press my lips to the irritated skin.
"I could eat," she says finally. "If you're offering."
"I'm always offering you things, Vittoria. You're the one who keeps refusing."
I pull her underwear from my pocket and use it to clean my release from her breasts. The lace drags across her nipples, and she inhales sharply. I take my time, making sure every trace of me soaks into the fabric.
When I'm done, I tuck it back in my pocket.
I crouch down to untie the velvet ribbons from her ankles. The red marks here are softer, the fabric gentler than the metal. I run my thumb across the indentations anyway, memorizing the pattern.
When both legs are free, I extend my hand to her.
Her palm slides into mine.
I pull her up, and she sways slightly, unsteady on her heels. I catch her waist, holding her against me. She's so small compared to me.
I kiss her.
When I pull back, her eyes are closed.
"Dmitri," she whispers.
I lift her into my arms before she can say anything else. She gasps, hands flying to my shoulders.
"What are you?—"
"The night has just begun," I tell her. "I'm not done with you yet."
She curls into my chest. Her head finds the space between my shoulder and neck like it was made to rest there.
The theater is silent around us. No audience, no orchestra, no applause. Just the sound of my footsteps echoing across the empty stage and the woman in my arms who somehow became everything.
Right now. Right here. I want time to freeze.
I want to live in this moment forever.
Let the world stop spinning.
I set her down near the stage steps.
"Get dressed."
She steps into her dress, pulling it up over her hips.
I cross the distance between us. My fingers find the zipper and pull it up slowly. I let my knuckles drag across her spine as I go.
She shivers.
"My underwear," she says, turning to face me. "I need it back."
"No. Not yet."
Her eyebrows shoot up. "No?"
"You heard me."
Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
