Page 319 of Bitter’s Sweet

Her body remembers mine.

Mine remembers hers.

Neither of us pretends the last few days disappeared because they did not. They are in every pause, every question, every answer.

Sweet slides her hands beneath my shirt and pushes it upward. I lift my arms so she can pull it over my head, and when her palm reaches the bruising along my ribs, she slows.

“You still hurt.”

“Nothing important.”

Her eyes narrow.

“Your body belongs to you too, asshole.”

The words hit hard enough to make me smile despite myself.

“Shoulder and ribs are sore. Neither is bad enough to stop.”

“Stop what?”

My gaze drops to her mouth.

“Whatever you decide happens next.”

Her cheeks color, but she does not look away.

“Better answer.”

Sweet kisses the bruise beside my ribs, soft enough that it is almost worse than pain.

My breath catches.

She notices.

“Sensitive?”

“To you? Apparently everywhere.”

“That sounds inconvenient.”

“You have no fucking idea.”

She smiles against my skin.

Then she takes my hand and leads me toward the bed.

I stop beside it.

She turns.

“What now?”

“Condom.”

Her expression softens.

“Good answer.”