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"The thread lets me feel the pressure before it reaches your eyes. If anything changes, I stop and get off the bed."

"You open the door." His voice had lost every trace of sleep now. "You don't try to pull me back while I'm touching you."

"I open the door."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

He studied my face until he was satisfied that I meant it. Only then did I guide his hand lower.

"And I'm asking this time," I whispered. "I want this. I've been lying here wanting you for an hour."

A sound escaped him, low in his chest, somewhere between amusement and strain, and he pressed his face into my hair.

"Asking," he murmured, sounding almost amazed. "Look at you."

"Is that a yes?"

"God, Wren. Yes."

He did not roll me onto my back, and he did not let me turn toward him. He kept me exactly where I was, lying on my side with my back against his chest and my bandaged shoulder turned safely upward, away from the mattress and away from his weight. He slid his other arm beneath my head and gave me somewhere soft to rest against him.

Then he started slowly.

He kissed the back of my neck beneath my hair, where my skin was still warm from the pillow. His mouth moved behind my ear and then along the uninjured side of my throat. He took his time, kissing me with slow, open warmth while his hand remained flat beneath my shirt, resting against my stomach without moving.

He kept doing nothing with that hand until I was the one shifting impatiently against him.

A quiet laugh moved against my skin.

"Patience," he said.

"I've been patient. I've been patient for an hour."

"Then you can survive another minute."

His palm moved upward over my ribs. He cupped my breast through the thin cotton of my shirt, then brushed his thumb over my nipple.

I gasped.

He did it again, just as slowly.

Then again.

His mouth stayed at my neck while his thumb moved with maddening patience, and soon I was pressing back against him, my body growing loose and hot beneath his hands. His cock was hard against my lower back, which made his performance of patience considerably less convincing.

Then his hand began moving downward again.

Everything felt different in the dark. We were still half inside sleep, with no lamp burning and no need to watch each other. There was only the warmth under the blankets, the weight of his body behind mine, his breath against my neck, and his rough fingers slipping beneath the edge of my panties.

He dragged them slowly through the slick heat between my legs until he found my clit.

A satisfied sound rumbled through his chest.

"All that for me?" he murmured.

"All that for you."