Page 87 of What Happens at Nightfall

The harsh light of the hallway glimmered on Jess’s hair, turning it amber and gold and copper, maple and chestnut and ash. Like a tree, Adam thought, full of unexpected shadings and bursts of wonder.

“Genus Jessicus,” he said whimsically, as she concentrated very hard on getting the key into the lock.

“Huh?” Jess looked back over her shoulder at him.

“You.” He touched a finger to her cheek. Her skin felt impossibly soft, tinted like a rose. One of the good heirloom kinds, not the modern tea blends. “No. Not genus Jessicus. Genus Jacinticus. A rare species only occasionally found in the wild. Native to Fifty-Seventh Street.”

Jess shook her head at him. “I’m only transplanted here.”

Adam waggled his eyebrows at her. “Maybe you need to try out a new bed to see where you’ll thrive.”

Jess shoved the door open, laughing back at him as she stumbled into her foyer, dropping the keys on the dining room table that sat just inside the door. “That’s terrible.”

“Gardener humor. I can come up with worse,” Adam offered.

“Is that a threat?”

“Or maybe a promise.” Adam kicked the door shut behind him. Not that it needed much help. It was one of those heavy self-closing doors. But it was the gesture that counted. He’d sweep her up in his arms and carry her upstairs, except there were no stairs.

So instead he kissed her again, which was better than stairs and much easier on the back.

“Water—” began Jess breathlessly.

“Highly overrated.” The couch was just ahead of them. Or, even better, he could see a bedroom through the door to the right. Adam steered in that direction.

“You won’t say that in the morning.”

“I’m not thinking about the morning.” Adam couldn’t help himself. He started singing, “Save tonight—and fight the break of dawn.”

Jess gave him a little push. It was a very strategic push. Adam landed on his back on the bed, which was really where he wanted to be anyway. The mattress was nice. Springy.

“What’s with all the singing?”

“I sing when I’m happy,” he said.

“Or trashed?” Jess braced her arms on either side of him, her hair falling down on either side of her face. He didn’t remember ever seeing it out of its ponytail before. Loose, it puffed out like clouds. Happy, happy clouds, spun out of cinnamon and spice and everything nice.

“Happy,” Adam said firmly, and rolled them both onto their sides.

It really was an excellent bed, mostly because Jess was in it. Adam hadn’t lied. He really wasn’t that trashed, not anymore. He was happy. It was the strangest feeling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so full of pure joy. Jess’s fingers in his hair, her lips against his lips, her legs against his legs. Happiness. Like sunshine on leaves and the smell of lavender after a rain or a homemade cinnamon bun fresh out of the oven. He was walking on sunshine, living on a prayer, building a little birdhouse in his soul, all with a backdrop of Hallelujah!

Their clothes were very much in the way. Adam tried to pull his shirt over his head and then remembered, too late, that it was a button-down.

“Need some help?” said Jess, and kissed her way down the buttons. Adam wasn’t sure if he wished his shirt had fewer buttons or more.

“Zipper,” he murmured, feeling down her back. “I can’t find the zipper.”

“That,” said Jess, “is because there is no zipper.”

Sitting up, she yanked the dress up over her head, which worked better in theory than in practice.

“A little help here?” came her muffled voice from under the clingy black fabric stuck over her head.

Under the black dress, she wore a black lace bra, which was displayed at a particularly interesting angle due to her current position. Adam kissed the bottom curve of her breast through the black lace on his way to help her pull the dress over her head.

You could leave her like this, murmured a voice in his head. It’s like chains. Keep her immobilized, have your way with her.

Adam frowned, his happy buzz dissipating a little. Not cool. He gave the dress a yank and it finally made it up over her arms and off her head, revealing a very flushed and disheveled Jess.