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A gasp means there.

A hitch in her breath means more.

When she starts to shake, I hold her steady and don't stop until she comes apart with a sound I'm going to hear in my head for the rest of my life.

"Oh, fuck," she whispers to the ceiling.

When she looks down at me, her cheeks are flushed, her lipstick is gone, and she's staring at me like I just performed a magic trick.

"No one's ever done that like that before."

"Good," I say.

I mean it more than I should.

I rise and kiss her, and she pulls at my tie, my buttons, my belt.

I unzip the red dress and let it fall.

Then I just look at her.

Too much, the idiot downstairs said.

He has no idea what he walked away from.

"Everything okay?" Her voice is suddenly uncertain.

"I've never seen skin that looks like it's lit from the inside," I tell her. "You're a goddamn masterpiece."

She doesn't know what to do with that.

I can see her not knowing.

So I undress, and she watches, and the uncertainty turns into something much hungrier.

I lay her back on the bed and follow her down.

That's when she puts one hand flat on my chest.

"Wait."

I stop instantly.

She pushes up on her elbows. Her hair spills around her shoulders. She looks braver than she did telling off her ex, and more scared.

"Tell me what you want," I say again, quietly.

She swallows.

"I've never done this before."

3

ISABELLA

The silence after I say it is the longest of my life.

I brace for the sigh Mark used to give me, like I was a project running over budget. I’m already reaching for the blanket.