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"Let me go," she hisses.
"Not a chance." I twist her arm behind her, forcing her to jut out her chest. Her nipples are outlined through the layers of her bra and her dress. I raise my gaze to find her watching me with an angry look on her face.
"We have a deal. No sex," she hisses.
"This is not sex, it’s merely… A husband wishing his wife a good morning."
"It’s not yet morning."
"It is somewhere in the world."
She huffs. "We need to establish some rules if we’re going to cohabitate."
"Rules, eh?"
She nods. "No touching, no kissing, no brushing against each other. Nothing remotely romantic can take place between us."
"So, it’s okay for you to kiss me while I am sleeping, but I can’t do the same to you?"
"I didn’t kiss you," she snaps.
"Oh, come on,Stellina, I felt you kiss me. I smelled you as you whispered your knuckles across my chin."
Her cheeks flush. "You must be imagining things."
"And was I imagining things when I saw you move away from me?"
"I was merely going to find the stewardess to get something to drink."
I peer into her features and take in the dark circles under her eyes.
"The wound in your side, does it hurt?"
She shakes her head. "It really was only a flesh wound. It healed quickly."
I reach out to touch the scar on her face, and she flinches. I lower my hand. "And this? Does it still hurt?"
She glances away, shakes her head, then nods. "Sometimes. When I least expect it, it twinges, kind of like a phantom pain. But otherwise, no, it healed very quickly."
"And what do the doctors say about the scarring?"
She pulls on her hand, and I release her. She twists her fingers together in front. "That it will fade in time, but there’ll always be a mark of some kind."
"You are beautiful,Stellina, inside and out. No one can take that away from you."
She flushes a little, and her forehead creases. "I don’t want to talk about it."
"You should. I think you should see a therapist."
She jerks her chin in my direction. "What? No. I don’t need to see a shrink."
"Have you spoken to anyone else about the experience? Are you sure you’re not suffering from PTSD related to what happened?"
She tries to pull away from me, but I wrap my arm around her and hold her in place. "Have you been sleeping well? How have you been eating since you were shot at?"
Her breath heaves. She shoves her fingers into her ears. "La-la-la-la. I can’t hear you."
I grip her arms and wrench them away from her face. "Too disturbing for you to hear what happened to you, eh?"
