She's standing thereóby the windowówith her back
to the room, silhouetted by the moonlight filtering through the sliding glass
doors that lead to the balcony. I'm sure she hears me enter, but she doesn't
turn around. Closing the heavy door behind me, I turn the dead bolt, and she
flinches to the snick of it.
We've planned this, but she's still nervous. I can tell. Although she's
perfectly still, I can read the apprehension it in the set of her shoulders. A
little fear won't hurt. In fact, it'll probably help. I cross the room in four
long strides, tossing my shoulder bag on the king-sized bed in passing, and I
stand very close to her with my hands clasped behind my back.
Leaning forward so that just my breasts brush against her back, I bury my nose
in her hair and inhale deeply. Her thick, dark locks smell like rainówarm,
summer rain tinged with the cloying scent of honeysuckle blossoms. I lift her
hair away from her neck and whisper into the skin just below her ear, "Listen to
me." She shivers to the husky tone of my voice, the sensation of my breath. "Are
you ready for this?"