Page 38 of Night Shift

His gaze drops to the floor.

“I am sorry.”

Something about the way he says it strips away the comedy.

I think about how old he must be, how many mornings he has gotten exactly right, only to begin screwing them up now.

For me.

“I liked it,” I admit.

His head lifts.

“The extra time,” I clarify. “I liked waking up with you. I liked all of it.”

Hope flickers across his face.

I take his hand and lead him toward the back room, away from Rose and any other witnesses.

“But you can’t keep doing this. Not for me. Not for anybody.”

His brow furrows.

“But I want to.”

There it is.

The problem in six words.

I should probably give him a lecture about boundaries, responsibility, cosmic equilibrium and the fact that Petra’s ass has now suffered two separate heat-lamp incidents.

Instead, I grab his coat and kiss him.

This kiss is nothing like the first.

There’s no hesitation now, no careful waiting for instructions. Erebus catches my waist and pulls me closer, kissing me with a hunger that makes my thoughts scatter. I bury my hands in his hair and hold him there until I forget about rent, the missing morning, and the increasingly likely possibility that the town council is about to convene over my love life.

When we finally break apart, I’m breathless.

Erebus looks stunned.

“You don’t have to keep the night to keep me,” I say.

His hand rises to my cheek.

“You disappear every morning.”

Something in my chest aches.

“No. I go to sleep. There’s a difference.”

“For me, it does not feel different.”

I lean into his palm.

“Then you’re going to have to learn.”

He looks at me for a long moment, and I can almost see the weight of eternity moving behind his eyes.