Page 221 of Sorrow & Strangers

“I wasn’t saying I’d sleep here, princess,” I say, brushing her hair behind her ear again.

She flushes, her mouth forming a small o. She goes quiet for a long moment, her thoughts practically screaming into the silence, but they move too fast for me to grab the tendrils of them and listen in. “It’s weird being back. You can’t feel me.”

“You can feel me . . .” I say, nuzzling against her cheek, remembering the feeling of her skin, her taste, her scent, bringing them to the forefront of my mind so I can replace them now, when everything has been taken from me.

That has to be enough. Yet I’m greedy for the weekend we just had, for more.

“It’s not the same,” she whispers, unknowingly voicing my own thoughts.

She pulls back from me slightly to stare into my eyes. Into the outline of my indiscernible features.

“Our time at All Souls makes the lack even more obscene,” I admit.

She nods, stroking my chest with her hand.

“The ache is sharper.” Not just sharper but nearly unbearable. To know exactly what we could have, to taste it, only to be stripped of it after a few hours.

“Much sharper,” she adds, emphasizing it.

I didn’t expect her to feel the loss as keenly as I do. She can still feel me. Reaching down, I pull her leg over my hip, pressing myself into the cradle of her hips. Burying my face into her neck, I pull her scent again to my memory, replacing reality with it as if that could ever be enough.

“Even the few hours apart felt unbearable.” I cup her cheek, locking eyes with hers. “Did you miss me, truly?”

“You don’t believe me?”

It’s not that I do not believe her. It’s that it’s surreal to think she feels more for me. That she might be surrendering to me slowly, day by day, hour by hour.

“I need to hear it.”

I need to hear it from your lips so maybe I will actually believe that you feel even a fraction for me that I do for you.

She presses a kiss to my chest. “I missed you.”

Fuck, I shouldn’t have asked‌ her to say those words. “What would you do if I dropped my avatar right now? Dropped all my protection in this moment?”

“What do you mean?” Her eyes flicker and then darken to black.

I shouldn’t have asked when it’s not possible, but I’m too desperate for more of her, even if it’s only in her imagination.

“What would you do if it were me, truly me, lying in your bed right now?”

This is a bad idea, but I can’t stop myself.

“We probably shouldn’t talk about that.” Her voice turns husky, and her nails curl into my chest.

“I want to hear it.”

“Then you’ll want to do it, and you can’t feel me.”

Again, about what I can feel. I didn’t think it would be as torturous for her as it is for me.

“Tell me anyway,” I insist. I need to hear how things have changed for her. Before this weekend, she would never have entertained a question like this from me.

She’s quiet for another long moment before saying, “Well, first, I’d kiss along your jaw, slowly moving my lips to yours.”

And because I’m a fool, I ruin the moment with a simple phrase.

“You know what I’d want if you kissed me.”