Page 10

She laughs, breathless. "I'm a professional."

"I'm going to stop letting you say that."

"Try."

I slide one hand from her hip around to the front, between her thighs, and press my thumb against her. She gasps and her rhythm stutters.

"Ethan."

"Yeah?"

"Do that again."

I do. She speeds up. Her breath comes faster and her thighs start to shake on either side of me. I can feel myself getting close, too close. I clench my jaw and press with my thumb in small circles, matching her movements until she lets out a long, low cry and shudders over me. Her whole body clenches around me. I stop holding back. I come so hard that I say her name out loud. My hands tighten on her hips. For a few long seconds there is nothing in the room but her and the sound of both of us breathing.

She folds down onto my chest, hot and damp and boneless. I put my arms around her. Her hair spreads across my shoulder, her ear against my heart.

Neither of us says anything for a while. The house ticks as it cools. Out the window the moon has slid halfway down the sky. The orchard lies black and still beneath it.

"That wasn't a hitch in the left shoulder, by the way," she says eventually, muffled against my skin. "I could tell by the way you used it just now."

"Is that a professional assessment?"

"It's a very preliminary one."

I laugh and the movement shakes her. She lifts her head, props her chin on her hand, and looks at me. Her face is flushed and soft, her mouth red, her eyes warm and heavy. I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and my knuckles stay against her jaw longer than they need to.

"You talked a lot," she says.

"Did I?"

"Before. You said things."

"I do that when I'm nervous."

"You were nervous?"

"I'm still a little nervous."

Her face changes at the honesty of it. "Good," she says, and kisses me, slow and sweet. When she pulls back she's smiling. "What's at seven?"

"Work."

"Standing around looking good?"

"Someone has to."

"And the glitter?"

"That's a long story."

"I've got till morning."

"You've got till about five-thirty." The moment I say it I want it back, because I see the small movement in her face as she closes something. "Ask me something else."

"Okay." She settles her head on my right shoulder and her palm on my chest, gentle of the left side. "What was the first thing you noticed about me?"

"That you were looking at my arm."