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He shook his head. “I am the opposite.”
“With me, you are.”
“Only with you.”
She smiled and took a sip of coffee. “Thank you for making breakfast.”
Monk studied her.
“What?”
He shook his head.
“What’s on your mind, Monk?”
“I…”
Saylor turned to her side and propped her head on her hand. “Talk to me, oh, Quiet One.”
He smiled. “The pain I felt last night…”
“I felt it too.”
He leaned forward and captured her mouth with his. The man was an expert at kissing. She pushed any thoughts of who he’d practiced with out of her head and touched the silver ball on the tip of his tongue with hers. He broke their kiss, stood, moved the tray off the bed, and picked up one of the condoms they’d left on the bedside table.
Saylor threw the covers off her body and watched as he pushed his shorts to the floor.
“I love looking at your body.” She smiled when he stood where he was, letting her, while at the same time, trailing his eyes over her nakedness.
When Saylor held her hand out to him, Monk took it and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I want this with you.”
“I want it too, Monk. I just don’t know how to define what ‘this’ is.”
He rested his hand on her thigh, his fingers creeping maddeningly close to her heated core. Saylor reached up and put her hand on his shoulder, pulling him toward her. “Kiss me again,” she murmured.
He did and then held her face in his hands. “I have to leave in the morning.”
“I think I knew that.”
“I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Saylor nodded. “I knew that too.”
—:—
The breakfast he’d made for Saylor was now cold, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her hunger for food matched the hunger he’d had for her body in the last hour.
He loved how easily she smiled, how often she touched him, even if it was just to rest her hand somewhere on his body. At the moment, her left hand was on his thigh, right above his knee, while she continued to eat with her right.
Last night, he’d shared the story of his sister’s death with her and he’d briefly mentioned his mother’s passing. He hadn’t said a word about his father, she hadn’t asked, and he was glad of it. If she had, he would’ve had to talk about the abuse his mother had suffered at his hands, which would serve as a reminder of her ex-husband. When the time was right, Monk would tell her that story too. He had to. He couldn’t keep his father’s murder a secret and truly hold himself open to her. Saylor would sense that he was keeping something back, and when she did, her insecurity would lead her to make assumptions that weren’t accurate.
“I’d ask what you’re thinking about, but I know that look.”
Monk raised his eyebrows and studied her.
“Razor goes to the same place you are right now. There are memories he’ll carry with him for the rest of his life. Things I know he wonders if he could’ve done differently. And while he never talks to me about it, I can sense what he’s going through. I’ll tell you the same thing I would tell him if I ever have the opportunity.”
