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"Comfortable?" he murmured.

"Very."

He kissed me again, taking his time while I threaded my fingers through his hair. The old sweatshirt was considerably less elegant than my angel dress, but I had to admit it was much more convenient.

When I finally drew back, Cillian was smiling.

"I've missed you," he said.

"You saw me this afternoon."

"That wasn't quite the same."

I understood perfectly.

I'd been standing across his loft with a thousand questions and no idea what to do with the answers. Now I was sitting in his lap, with his hands warm against my waist and the unmistakable evidence of his attraction beneath me.

It was a considerable improvement.

I kissed him once more, then rested my forehead against his.

"Before we get carried away, there's something practical I need to ask."

His hands remained at my hips.

"Go ahead."

"On Saturday, we used a condom because I thought you were a stranger. Now I know you're not human, and I don't know whether the usual rules apply."

He listened while I explained what I wanted to understand. The question felt rather extraordinary considering I'd spent my adult life assuming the men I dated were members of the same species.

Cillian answered without embarrassment.

"As a fallen angel, I can't transmit human sexually transmitted infections, and I can't father a human child. My body isn't compatible with human reproduction."

I absorbed the information, aware that I was accepting another fact about him that I couldn't independently verify.

"You're certain?"

"Absolutely. And if you'd rather use protection anyway, that's fine with me."

I considered his offer, then decided I was comfortable proceeding without a condom.

"I don't think that'll be necessary."

His gaze held mine for a moment.

"Then what would you like?"

I smiled and slipped my fingers into the hair at the back of his neck.

"Right now? I'd like you to come to bed with me."

Cillian kissed me, long enough to make my thoughts pleasantly difficult to organize.

When we finally separated, I climbed out of his lap and took his hand.

He followed me down the hallway, past the little framed prints I'd collected from local artists and the narrow bookshelf outside the bedroom door. The lamp beside my bed was still burning, casting a warm circle of light across the quilt.