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Fifty-two. Slower than mine had ever been in my life, and mine had been running at a hundred and twenty since he stood up out of that chair.

“Anna,” he said as if tired of waiting.

“I am counting,” I told him without looking up.

“Then finish counting,” he said, and I could tell he was smiling when he said it. As if he had known that number before I ever took hold of his wrist, because a man like that knows exactly what his own body is doing at all times.

“Fifty-two,” I said, and wrote it down, my handwriting barely looking like it belonged to me.

“Is that irritating too?” he asked, and I scoffed,

“It’s just showing off.” The corner of his mouth twitched again.

“Temperature next,” I told him, and got the probe into his ear, murmuring the result to myself just so I could cut through the heavy silence in the room.

And speaking of heavy,

“Now for your weight. I need you to stand on the…”

“Come here,” he interrupted the second I took a step back to give him space to get up. So, he was staying where he was. Which suited me, and I wouldn’t pretend otherwise, because sitting down he was only enormous. Standing, he was something else entirely.

“I need you to stand on the scale,” I tried again despite my fear of being reminded of his height.

“Anna.”

God but why did he have to say my name that way. But what made it worse was when his hands found my hips again. Then he pulled, and I stepped into him because there was very little else a person could do when a man his size decided where he wanted you to be. And where he wanted me was in between his legs, as he spread them open and drew me into the space he created.

I had spent two months remembering him standing over me, and I had been quietly comforting myself with the idea that sitting down would make him ordinary. That it would make this easier.

But I was wrong.

Because now he was sitting on the edge of that bed, with me standing between his knees and he was still looking down at me.

Not level… Down.

He was that fucking tall!

“Admit it,” he said softly, and I swallowed hard at the tone, hating that I had to clear my throat before answering him,

“Admit what?”

“That you’ve missed this.”

29

ONLY JUST BEGUN

ANNA

Istiffened in his hold the second he said this, hating that he was right. Hating that there was a deep dark part of me that had missed him. And that was the most messed up thing I had ever admitted to myself.

So naturally, I lied,

“I haven’t missed anything.”

“Your pulse says otherwise.” His thumb moved slowly along the waistband of my scrubs, one pass, and every nerve I owned went off at once. “Would you like me to take it for you? I am told I am rather good at finding it.” The irony of that statement wasn’t lost on me, considering he was a convicted murderer. Of course, I wasn’t stupid enough to remind him of this fact and point it out.

“I… I would like you to… to let go of me so that I can finish my job,” I said instead and it came out about half as steady as I had wanted it to.