“Yes.”
“Does it make this hard?”
“Sometimes.”
“Because you want me.”
“Yes.”
“Because I don’t remember wanting you.”
“Partly.”
His fingers moved along my beard.
“I want you now.”
My pulse surged.
“Noah.”
“I’m not asking to do anything.”
“Good.”
“I’m telling you.”
“That is not easier.”
His mouth curved.
“Did I enjoy torturing you?”
“Immensely.”
“Another thing that survived.”
I kissed his fingertips.
He went quiet.
“Work helped today,” he said after a while.
“I know.”
“I felt like a person.”
“You were a person yesterday.”
“I felt like a patient.”
The distinction hurt.
“Tomorrow, the panel is waiting.”
“Not before coffee.”
“Never.”
