“This is not the night to prove anything.”
His mouth curved faintly.
“You occasionally listen to your own advice.”
“Rarely.”
“I’m not trying to prove something.”
“What are you asking?”
His gaze dropped between us.
“I want to touch you while you touch me.”
The clarity in his voice made me still.
“Clothes on?”
“No.”
I searched his face.
There was fatigue.
There was desire.
There was love.
No panic.
“Are you certain?”
“No.”
I started to speak.
He touched one finger to my mouth.
“But I want to choose one thing without waiting until certainty becomes perfect. I may never feel perfectly sure.”
“That cannot mean ignoring doubt.”
“It doesn’t.”
His finger traced my lower lip.
“I know the boundary. Hands. Nothing else.”
“Any pain and we stop.”
“Yes.”
“Any fear.”
“Yes.”
“Any change at all.”
