Page 103

“You’ll bruise prettily.”

His lashes drop.

I finish the shirt and fold it over the chair. His boots are next. He lifts each foot when I tap his ankle and balances with one hand on my shoulder, and when I unfasten his trousers, he steps out of them without being told. I fold those too.

He stands naked in the blue light, waiting for more. I sit on the edge of the bed, pick up his brush, and let the silence go on. It takes him less than a minute.

“I’m sorry.”

I turn the brush over in my hand.

He swallows, and I watch it travel past the bruises. “I got in the way. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth.”

I had to take every apology out of the other six with a ruler. I part my knees and point to the floor.

He’s there at once, back to me, shoulders settling against the edge of the mattress. I gather his hair in one hand. It still smells like vanilla. I start at the ends, holding each section above the tangle so the brush doesn’t pull where I pulled earlier. By the third stroke, his head tips back into my hands.

“Heather?”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask you something?”

I keep brushing. “You may.”

“Why was the red room new?”

The brush stops halfway down a section. I finish the stroke. He’s earned one answer.

“There’s never been a Simon in the house.” I separate another section and start again at the ends. “Every Jamie before you broke something before I could get that far.”

He’s very still between my knees.

I draw the brush from his crown to the ends in one long pass. “You’ve been well behaved. Every room is full tonight because of you.”

He turns, slowly, until he can look up at me. Moisture gathers beneath the dark green at his lower lashes.

I set the brush down on the bed beside me. “Up.”

Jamie stands and waits for me to point at the mattress, for me to push him down and take the angle I like.

Instead, I undress while he watches. He tracks every piece of clothing to the floor, waiting for me to climb on top. That’s the shape he knows. Me above. Him used.

I lie back on his bed.

Jamie freezes. His cock is already leaking at the tip and his face has gone stupid with the change. “Heather.”

“On the bed.”

He starts to lie down beside me, then stops. His throat works. “I don’t understand.”

“You will. Kneel between my legs.”

He does, slowly, watching my face.

I part my knees. “You opened your mouth when I didn’t ask you to. Now you can open it for something useful.”

He kisses the inside of my thigh first.