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I’ve never done this with a partner, and I watch my face flush at the thought of sharing the oddly intimate routine with someone else. He notices, and his lips curve up.
“You okay?” he asks, rinsing his toothbrush. “I don’t think your eyes could get any bigger.”
I nod, spit, and rinse, conscious of my hot cheeks.
“You’re trembling,” he says. “Are you sure you’re not cold?”
I shake my head and wipe my mouth with the towel. I’m suddenly intensely aware of him, of how gorgeous he is, how relaxed and confident.
He studies my face, frowning, then turns and cups my cheeks in his hands. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. I’m okay. Just… overwhelmed. I haven’t done any of this before. I’ve never shared myself with a man. It’s all new to me.” I give a self-conscious laugh. “I know I’m twenty-six now, but I feel like how I imagine a fourteen-year-old medieval virgin must have felt when she was married to the lord of the manor.”
“Aw,” he murmurs, frowning, “I didn’t think of that.” His eyes search mine, and then he pulls me into his arms and hugs me tightly. “I’m so sorry.”
I snuggle up against him, my arms close to my chest. “It’s okay. It’s just… I think maybe because I lost my dad a long time ago, I’m not used to being around a man.”
He rubs my back, and I feel him kiss my hair. “I didn’t even consider that,” he says.
“Neither did I. And even if I had, I wouldn’t have thought you would feel so… different from me.”
“In what way?”
“In every way. Physically. The way you act. The clothes you wear. The way you speak. You’re very much a man.”
He kisses my hair again. “I hope that’s a compliment.”
“Oh, it is, very much so. I don’t know if I’m explaining myself very well.”
“I understand. I feel the same way about you.”
I lift my head to look at him. “In what way?”
He smiles, cupping my face again. “In every way. Physically, of course. There’s nothing angular about you. You’re all soft, hairless curves. Smooth skin. Hair like silk. Delicate hands.” He brushes a thumb across my bottom lip. “And you’re also different in other ways men aren’t supposed to comment on nowadays.”
I’m intrigued. “Like what?”
“The way you’re more thoughtful. Compassionate. Gentle. But so incredibly strong and resilient. When I’m cornered, I use my strength and height and weight to influence the other person, but you can’t do that. You have to be smart. You’re so in control of your emotions. You fascinate me.”
His words warm me all the way through. He brushes my cheeks with his thumbs, and presses his lips to mine, his tender, gentle kiss telling me he’s sorry, and my heart softens.
He takes my hand. “Come on.” He leads me out, turns off the light, and closes the door. We climb on the bed, bringing up the duvet, and he turns off the bedside lamp. Now the room is lit only by the stars and the lights of the city.
Lying back, he pulls me into his arms. I curl up against him, and the two of us nestle down beneath the duvet.
He lifts my chin and gives me a gentle, lingering kiss. Then he strokes my face while he looks into my eyes. “I am sorry,” he says. “I didn’t consider how strange this must be for you.”
“You know when you stare at a very bright light,” I reply, “and everywhere you look, all you can see is the after image? That’s how I feel.”
He brushes my cheek with his thumb. “You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”
“No. Well, my neck’s a little tender…”
If I thought he’d look remorseful and apologize, I’m to be disappointed. He moves the neck of the tee aside to look at the mark, and his lips curve up.
“No need to look so smug,” I say sulkily.
“You did tell me not to hold back.”
