Page 173 of Nyx

She dips her head.

"Of course."

"When?"

"Whenever you want to," I assure her, feeling a little insane for even having this conversation since I know I should have my foot on the brake, with it pressed as hard as it can go.

"No cut-off point?"

I shake my head. "Never."

She licks her lips, drawing my eyes there.

"Even if you're already inside me?"

"Even then," I promise, my body aching with a need so strong I know for a fact I've never felt it before.

"That is a lot of control," she whispers.

"It's not about control. If you want to stop, we stop."

"You wouldn't be angry?"

I shake my head.

"Not even a little?"

I shake my head again.

"I don't know what to do with that information."

"It's respect, and you deserve nothing less."

She blinks as if she never considered the idea that she was in control of what happened to her body during intimate moments, and I file that away on my growing list of reasons why Whitmore has to die.

"I want to kiss you so badly," she whispers.

"I want that, too," I confess, feeling weak and more than a little out of control with desperation, but also knowing I'd never violate her in any way or try to coerce her into doing something she didn't want to do.

The fingers on my shirt curl, gripping the fabric slightly, and all it takes is one gentle tug to move me toward her.

Our breaths mingle, our lips an inch away from touching, but her eyes are locked on mine as if she's trying to tell if I'm telling her the truth or not. She's been lied to too many times to just take words at face value, but I don't feel uneasy with her scrutiny. She's safe with me.

"I'm nervous," she says.

"We can stop."

"I don't want to stop. I haven't... Since Graham. I mean... It's been a really long time."

"We can wait," I tell her as if this is something she'll want again at a later time when she has already confessed that it's a bad idea.

"Do we have to?"

I shake my head.

"Is it something you want also, or are you just going along to make me happy?"

"Can I show you something?" I ask. "Something intimate?"