Page 46 of The Sun He Buried

“Because they’re secure?”

“Because there are twelve.”

His fingers work through another. His knuckles brush my back through the coat, and I forget which number we were on.

“She distrusts clasps,” I manage.

“Clothing should remain where she puts it.”

“That’s her general position.”

He gets the last knot loose. My coat opens, and he slides it from my shoulders. The dress beneath it has a row of little buttons down the back.

Baldr looks at them.

“Asta again?”

“She chose the dress.”

“How many?”

“Twenty-three.”

He turns me toward him. “You counted.”

“I was trapped inside it.”

He kisses me once. “Turn around.”

I do.

He starts at the top. The first buttons release quickly. Then his mouth touches the back of my neck, and the fifth one takes a great deal longer.

“You’re distracted,” I whisper.

“Terribly.”

“Should I help?”

“No.”

He opens the next button with his teeth against my shoulder.

I grip the front of my dress.

“That wasn’t the button.”

“I know.”

Oh, good.

By the time he reaches the bottom, I’m holding the dress up with both hands and breathing far too loudly. He kisses the bare skin between my shoulders.

“Still want me here?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me if that changes.”