Page 35

She lifts her arms. I draw the green sweater up over her head, slowly. Her hair catches and falls. I lay the sweater on the chair. Beneath it she wears a plain white bra that holds the heavy fullness of her breasts. The daylight shows me everything: the smooth warm skin, the freckles across her chest, the soft rounded line of her belly above the waistband of her jeans.

I unhook the clasp and slide the straps down her arms. Her breasts fall free and heavy into my hands. She breathes in sharply as my thumbs find her nipples.

"You're staring again."

"I'm allowed."

"It's broad daylight."

"I know." I bend and kiss the curve of her shoulder, the place where the strap left a faint pink groove. "I want to see all of it."

Her fingers move to the buttons of my shirt. She unfastens them one at a time, her eyes on mine. She pushes the flannel off my shoulders and tugs my T-shirt over my head. Then her palms are flat on my chest. They slide up and over my shoulders. She turns me gently by the arm until she can see the left one.

"It's better."

"You fixed it."

"I started it." She kisses the knot, softly, right at its center. My head falls back. "I'll finish it tonight."

"You can finish it any time you want."

"I'm holding you to that."

I unbutton her jeans. She steps out of them when I kneel, one foot and then the other. I kiss the soft curve of her stomach and the inside of each thigh, the silvery lines across her hips. She sinks her fingers into my hair and holds on.

When I stand, she's naked in the afternoon sun. Wide-hipped and heavy-breasted and flushed to the throat. I can't speak. I take off my jeans while she watches. She looks at me without a trace of shyness, her eyes moving slowly from my shoulders to my hips, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

I lay her down on the gray quilt. She lies on her side facing me, one leg drawn up. I lie down in front of her. For a long while we only look. The curtains stir. Out in the street a car passes, and a child shouts somewhere far off. I put my hand on her hip and run it slowly up her side.

"Turn over for me."

She rolls onto her other side, her back to me. I fit myself behind her with my chest to her shoulder blades and my knees tucked behind hers. She's warm and soft against me from head to foot. I kiss the freckles across her shoulder, one at a time, and slide my arm under her neck and my other hand around to her breast. She reaches back and finds my hip and holds on.

"Can you see?" I murmur.

"See what?"

"The window."

She lifts her head. The sun is falling across the bed, bright and gold, over her shoulder and breast and the rise of her hip. Her skin glows in it.

"Yes."

"That's how I want to see you. Every time. In the light."

She makes a low sound and presses back against me. I slide my hand down her belly and between her thighs. She's already wet. I stroke her slowly, in unhurried circles, while my mouth moves along her neck. She shudders. Her hips tilt back and I feel her breathing change, quick and shallow, her fingers tightening on my hip. I take my time. I stay exactly where she wants me, easing and pressing, listening to her breath. When she says my name I answer it with a kiss at the hollow below her ear.

"Now. Please."

I shift behind her, lift her top leg over mine, and push into her slowly. She's hot and tight and so ready that I stop halfway, a groan tearing out of me, my forehead against her shoulder. She gasps. Her hand finds mine on her stomach and holds it there. I wait, as still as I can manage, until she breathes out and pushes back against me, taking me in. Then I'm all the way inside her.

Neither of us moves.

"Okay?" I whisper.

"Yes."

"Tell me if it's too much."