“What do you want to do?”
Did he just read my mind? “What do you mean?”
“You want me to… find the door and go kick his ass? Because I will.”
I just blink at him for a moment. “What?”
“That Finn fucker. I’m pissed. Can you tell?”
“Not really.”
“That’s how ya know I’m pissed. I’m a quiet kinda pissed. And after what you just told me, it’s my new mission in life—well, after tomorrow, which we are not gonna talk about tonight—but after tomorrow, it’s my new mission in life to find that fucker and make him pay. And by make him pay, I mean… ineverydimension. Because I’m gonna hurt him in hissoul.”
“Oh. Well… I was actually just wondering if we were gonna have sex tonight.”
His face goes blank. Then a small smile lifts up his lips. He chuckles. “OK, then. We’re gonna table the revenge scheme for a couple days and just concentrate on the sex. Acceptable?”
A sense of joy transcends my sour mood and suddenly the world is all right side up again. “You’re very serious when you’re working, ya know that?”
He nods. “I am. And I do. And I’ve got a lot of work coming up. But I’m trying to remind myself that I’m off-duty right now so I’m doin’ my best.”
Well. If ever there was an invitation to remind a man that he’s off-duty, that was it. I grab the front of my nightgown with my fingertips and lift it back up over my head. As soon as it’s off, I make eye contact with Tyse again.
He’s smiling now because whatever work thing that’s on his mind, he’s truly put it aside at this point. “What are ya doing?”
“I don’t like the nightgown anymore. It reminds me of that place I used to live.”
Tyse presses his lips together. “I see.”
“In fact”—I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra—“I don’t like these undergarments, either.” I let the bra slide down my arms and then I step out of my Cheeky Goddess underwear. I do not break eye contact with him. And, to my surprise, he doesn’t break eye contact with me, either. “So I’m just gonna sleep like this.”
Then I pull the covers back and slip into the bed.
I’m looking him right in his blue eyes when he reaches over and turns the light out. For a moment it’s completely dark. But then there is a blue glow emanating up from my skin and I can see Tyse as he drops his boxers—lit-up eyes locked on me—as he gets into bed.
His body eases in up next to mine, his hand on my stomach. But he slowly slides it down between my legs. “One day… I’m gonnareadyou, Clara Birch. I’m gonna get that story your spark is so desperate to tell, and I’m gonna know you better than anyone else in this fuckin’ universe.”
And then he kisses me, and while he’s kissing me he puts me on top of him. My legs straddling his hips. My hands sliding under his arms and gripping his shoulders like I don’t ever want to let go. He’s got one hand between my legs, and the other is around the back of my neck, holding our lips together as our mouths work in unison.
But a moment later, he’s inside me. And this is nothing like the sex I’ve ever had before. Because my entire body is lit up with spark, and it’s so powerful that it lifts off me the way those butterflies did on Jasina Bell’s dress. The whole room is blue, and the spark is floating all around us like snow falling in mountains I have never seen before, and this man underneath me is moaning sweet things into my ear as we make love.
And this too is new. Because it’sslow. So slow. It’s lingering and the pleasure isn’t some instantaneous climax, but a sustained sense of pure delight that goes on, and on, and on.
He holds me close to him, my breasts pushing against his chest. But after the first climax, I sit up and we keep going. Even slower this time. His face is lit up blue from my glow and when I tap his chest, my spark comes right out the end of my fingertip and leaves a mark on his skin.
I draw a heart around his heart. I write my name on his stomach. I trace his tattoos in cyan-blue and little by little, he takes it in.
The glow I leave behind becomes his.
Like a gift.
And while I’m doing this he’s tracing my story. The one written on my body. And all I hear as I make love are his words. His promise to me.One day I’m gonna read you, Clara Birch.
And I think to myself…Well, of course he is.
Because whatever is written on me—whatever story this is—I know one thing for sure.
It’s the story of us.
