It stirred something in her. Something she could not quite name.
But that was what had woken her up the third time.
She was quenched. She was temperate.
But she was stirred, even so, at this late hour.
And to her surprise, when she opened her eyes, she found Jasper’s were open too. And that he was watching her, lit in murky, cloud-filtered moonlight, next to him on the bed. His breathing was steady. His hands were folded on his ribs. And his head was turned toward her, his expression gentle and perhaps a little resigned.
She imagined hers was much the same.
“What?” she whispered, watching his expression shift, his mouth curving, his eyes finding a twinkle.
“I was just wondering if you’d changed your mind,” he whispered back.
“What about?”
His teeth flashed in the dark. “Benvolio. The best mate is obviously the most attractive man in the play. Don’t you see that yet?”
She blinked at him, then scoffed and shook her head. “You think you’re a Benvolio, do you?” she said wryly. “Jasper, therehas never been a more Romeo-built man in all of Brighton than you with your impulses and infatuations and schemes. Malcolm is the Benvolio. So, the answer isno. He remains a sexless, boring husk to me, and I shall not repent or consider otherwise.”
“Romeo, eh?” he said, chuckling and flopping onto his back. “Well, that’s not so bad, is it? Even if the woman who falls for me is… What did you call her? ‘A half-wit’?”
“‘A half-wit child,’” Libba confirmed, amusement tugging at her cheeks despite herself. “Yes, and damn you very much for making me sympathize with her.”
“Did I? We should tell the papers,” he returned, smug as could be. “You’d look very well on a balcony at night.”
“Of course I would.” She sniffed. “I’ve got a little balcony now, don’t I? In my flat?”
“You do,” he agreed, grinning. “You do, indeed. Though our downstairs neighbors might take issue with me rhapsodizing at it from the ground level.”
“You let me worry about the neighbors, Romeo,” she said, nudging him with her elbow. “What about you, then? Did you change your mind?”
He exhaled, and even his breath sounded like it was smiling. “What about, my love?”
“About this robe and turban,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “I believe you told me that if you saw them on me again, you’d lose your bloody mind.”
He blinked. He turned his head, his eyes skimming down over her in just that ensemble. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“You did,” she confirmed.
“Well,” he told her, tugging her toward him as he rolled atop her, pinning her against the mattress, “I’ve resolved to start seeing things through properly. I suppose I’d better start here.”
“Yes,” she said, swallowing with effort as he reached down to tug the sash loose around her waist. “You had better.”
“It might take some practice,” he cautioned her, separating the fabric and pushing the well-worn pink textile aside to reveal the thin shift she wore beneath it. “New habits often do.”
“I suppose I could endure that,” she replied, slipping one arm and then the other free of the robe. “For the sake of your improvement, of course.”
“Aren’t you curious?” he asked, leaning down to taste her throat, to kiss the line of her jaw, “if it will feel different now? Now that everything is out in the open?”
She sighed, trailing her nails down the back of his neck and dipping into the collar of his shirt to tug it forward. “Jasper,” she said to him softly, suddenly worried her voice might carry. “I’m curious if I remember what your chest looks like correctly, actually. I don’t think I’ve quite memorized every freckle, every curl of hidden hair…”
“Oh, well, that’s unacceptable,” he agreed, lifting up just a touch to remove the offending garment from between them. “Now that you mention it, my memory is a bit fuzzy as well.”
She grinned, pulling him back to her mouth as her legs wrapped around his hips.
They laughed together, fumbling at the clothing that remained, gasping in satisfaction at the warm collision of their skin as each layer was set aside in favor of discovery and memorization.
