Page 94 of Dark Destiny: The Turning Of The Loom

She understood then that he wanted her out of the bathroom, and it hurt a little, but he was right about taking one step at a time.

She kissed his cheek. "I am going to read in bed." She walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

The water started a moment later.

He had already showered earlier today after his morning training sessions, but he was showering again for her.

That was a good sign.

Perhaps he had plans for her.

Annani took her book and got in bed.

Should she take off the nightgown?

Off or on?

If he came out in pajamas, she would stay as she was. If he did not, she would take her nightgown off. She would let him set the pace and not push him. Well, not much. Just a nudge here and there.

She tried to read but was too nervous to concentrate. She put the book on the nightstand and dimmed the lights.

The bathroom door opened.

He came out with a towel around his hips, and she did her best not to ogle him. The chest that had been a rack of ribs a month ago was now covered in lean muscle and smooth skin. His shoulders no longer looked like something that belonged on a scarecrow, and his arms were starting to show definition. The legs were still too skinny, but she kept her gaze on his face and torso and did not look below.

He set the crutch against the nightstand, looked at her with determination in his eyes, and then dropped the towel. The speed with which he got in bed and pulled the covers up almost made her laugh, but she bit her lower lip to keep from embarrassing him.

Khiann lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.

He was so uncomfortable that it was painful to watch, but he had gotten into the bed naked, and he had done so in front of her.

She wanted to tell him that he looked incredible and that she desired him, but it would only make him feel even more awkward.

"Well, when in Rome," she said instead, reached up under the blanket, and pushed the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders.

"I have seen what they did in Rome. You may want to use a different example."

She laughed. "Right. When in Paris then."

"We did not watch Paris yet."

"Exactly."

She worked the fabric down under the blanket, not from shyness, but because he was under the covers, and she was adapting to him. She pushed the fabric down past her hips and kicked it free of her feet. It slid off the end of the mattress onto the floor, and then she turned onto her side to face him, the blanket held against her chest.

He turned to face her, and his hand found her hip, but his eyes stayed on hers and did not wander anywhere else.

She put her hand on his chest, and it felt incredible just to feel the smoothness and warmth of his skin and the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.

That was all for a long while.

His hand warm on the curve of her hip, her fingers spread over his heart, the two of them breathing in the dim room.

"Come here," he said and drew her in.

He did not need to ask twice.

She scooted closer until the length of her body came against the length of his, skin to skin, and the sound of pleasure she made was not one she had made in five thousand years.