Page 95 of Ricardo

Then back at me.

“I don’t want you in the chair.”

The rain hits the windows harder, a steady violent sound that makes the room feel cut off from the rest of the world. There is only firelight, storm, and Julia looking at me as if all sensibility has finally flown out the window.

“Come here,” I say softly.

Her eyes widen.

I hold out my hand between us, palm up.

Nothing more.

For a second, she only looks at it.

Then she puts her hand in mine.

Her fingers are cool. Mine close around them slowly, giving her time to change her mind. She does not. She shifts closer instead, the blanket falling farther, her knee brushing mine.

The contact is small.

It feels enormous.

I lift my other hand and touch her face. Just the tip of my thumb along her jaw. She inhales, and her eyes close for half a second.

When they open again, there is no confusion in them.

Only nerves.

Only want.

“I haven’t done this since…” she trails off.

“Shh,” I say. “This is not the place for him.”

“I’m scared,” she whispers, wide-eyed.

The words slice me like a blade.

I lean closer but stop before my mouth reaches hers.

“Then we go slowly.”

She shakes her head once. “I don’t want slow. I’m tired of slow.”

My control frays.

“Careful,” I warn.

Her hand tightens in mine. “I thought you liked me less careful.”

“I want you to be sure.”

“I am.”

For one heartbeat, I do not move.

Then I kiss her.