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“Doyou think we may be havingtoo muchsex?”
From his position alongside me at the bathroom sink, his mouth still full of toothpaste, Isaiah met my gaze in the mirror, eyes wide. He opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it, clearing and rinsing his mouth before glancing up at me again.
“Is that some type of hint for me to pack up my overnight bag and go or something? You’re sick of me?”
I laughed, and then turned to leave the bathroom, since I’d only been hanging around because he was in there--a testament to exactly how wrong he was.
“The opposite, actually. I’m getting a little concerned about the level at which Icannotget enough of you. It’s a bit alarming.”
That was no exaggeration.
In the week since we’d come back fromEscape, Isaiah had been over here every day.
Not that every single moment of it had been spent having sex, but certainly plenty of it had. I kept waiting for it to start to get old to me, because ithad to… right?
That fatigue never came, though.
And it had me concerned, to where I’d actually brought it up to my therapist, wondering if it was a sign of something wrong.
“Or, perhaps, something very,veryright,” she’d teased. “As long as you’re not neglecting responsibility, or engaging any risky behaviors, I’m not worried at all about you wanting as much intimacy from your partner as they’re able to give. You’ve spent the bulk of your life not even knowing this was possible.Of courseyou’re wanting me to absorb it all now. Please don’t take offense to this analogy, but… a dry sponge can hold a lot of water.”
I wasn’t offended.
But she’d inadvertently giving me a new thing to worry about.
Sure, sponges held a lot of water, but onlyso muchbefore you had a mess on your hands.
I didn’t want to be a mess.
Andrisky behavior?
Such as putting my heart on the line for a not-so-former killer?
How was that not dicey?
It was quite easy to see the logic of it when I stepped outside myself to focus on thefacts, not the feelings. But then, pesky reality stepped in and Isaiah’s brawny arms around my body, pulling me securely against his chest, didn’t feel dangerous at all.
It felt like the safest thing in the world.
He met my gaze. His expression was incredibly thoughtful for a long moment before he finally pushed out some words with amusing difficulty. “The feeling is mutual.”
I grinned up at him, sliding my hands up over his bare chest. “That was like pulling teeth for you, wasn’t it?”
He smirked. “That’s how you know it’s real, right?” he asked, not bothering to deny what I already knew.
He was having withdrawal symptoms.
Well… for lack of a better way to express it.
It wasn’t as if he gone cold turkey from hisThornactivities -- even up until recently, just months ago, he’d been taking mercenary jobs. So he wasn’t as far removed from hisGardenhard-wiring as some of the rest of us. This time we’d spent holed up, making love and cooking dinner together, talking until we fell asleep… all that was contraindicated to everything we were programmed to be.
“It’s been a rough two weeks, but I’ve got it,” he said, planting a lingering kiss against my forehead before he pulled back.
I frowned. “Two weeks? You mean since we ran into each other on the street?”
“Two weeks since the resort…” he answered, giving me a look as if I were the one confused. “I’m saying—it was easier at Escape, when we were insulated—isolated- from everything else. Now that we’re back, and I can have you back in my life… I’ve got to make some sharp adjustments pretty quick. Including some kind of job that doesn’t involve… well… You know.”
“Zay, it’s only been a week since we left the resort.”
