She shifts, winces just slightly, and then smiles wider, like the ache is something she's proud of. She lowers her voice, as if she's bragging while telling a secret. "I'm sore."
"You asked for it," I remind her.
Her eyes flicker with amusement. "And you delivered, Dr. Mercer." She slides her hand over the mark on her hip and closes her eyes, sighing as if in relief.
I lean down and kiss her forehead instead of letting it turn into something else. I don't trust myself not to pull her back under me if I don't.
She traces her fingers in idle patterns over my chest and asks, "Do you have a busy schedule today?"
"Yes."
She pouts, just a little. "That's unfair."
I huff a quiet laugh. "I'm a deeply unfair man."
She studies my face for a second longer than usual, her gaze sharpening even through the sleepiness. Then she softly adds, "You feel far away."
The words land closer to home than I like. I swallow hard. "I do?"
"Yes."
My eyes drift to the pale morning light slipping through the curtains, and I get the faint, uncomfortable sense that something outside this room is already in motion.
She asks, "Are you mad at me?"
I turn my head toward her. "No. Why would I be upset with you?"
She slowly shrugs, and shame fills her expression. "I put a lot on your plate yesterday."
I tug her over me and slide my hand in her hair. "Listen to me, Bluebird."
"Okay." She bites her lip and settles into the straddle position, sinking closer to me.
I stroke her jawline. In a firm tone, I assert, "I love you. I'm here to help you. You don't ever have to feel bad about needing me. Do you feel better today?"
A tiny curve appears on her mouth. She blinks a few times and nods. "Yes. I feel..." She stares at me a moment, then reveals, "I feel centered again."
"You do?"
"Yes."
"What about the ache from the bruises and bite marks?" I inquire.
Her smile grows. "I know this sounds strange, but they make me feel alive and normal."
The man inside me, who has only just begun to show his face, appears. I exhale deeply, then lower my hand to her breast. I graze the purple around her nipple. "What about this?"
"Don't stop," she murmurs. She drops her head backward, closes her eyes, and breathes ten times, as I taught her.
I grow harder, coaxing, "Tell me how it feels."
She meets my gaze and licks her lips, answering, "Like you're feeding my soul."
"Fuck, Bluebird," I mutter.
The phone rings again, tearing us out of the moment.
She glances at it. "Why is Mikhail calling?"
