A Caress Of Twilight   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

His first panting words were, "Did I hurt you?"

I touched my bloody fingers into the bite on my shoulder, mixed the neon glows together like mixing paint, and held up my fingers before his face. "I think I should be asking you the same question."

He put a hand back to touch the blood on his back, as if he hadn't felt it until that moment. He propped himself up on one elbow and stared at the blood on his hands. Then he threw back his head and laughed, laughed until he collapsed on top of me again, and when he finished laughing, he cried.



Chapter 19

We lay entwined together on a bed of Doyle's hair. It was like having fur rubbing the length of my bare body. My head was cradled in the curve of his shoulder. His body was like warm muscled silk. I traced my fingers along his waist, over the curve of his hip, an idle gesture, not exactly sexual. More to know that I could touch him. We'd been quietly touching each other for several minutes. His one hand was trapped underneath my body, curved up around my back, holding me close, but not too close. He wanted room to run his free hand down my body, and he wanted to give me room to touch him. He wanted the feel of hands on his body. It was as if he wasn't merely starved for sex, but starved for touch. I knew that humans could become touch-starved. Infants will die from lack of enough touch, even if every other need is met. But I hadn't known it of the sidhe, especially the unmovable object known as the Queen's Darkness.

But he lay beside me, smiling, his fingers running over my stomach and tracing the edge of my belly button.

I caught a glimpse of the mirrored bureau behind his head. My blouse hung across the middle of the mirror, as if flung there.

He caught me looking behind him. He brought his hand up to my face, tracing the edge of my cheek. "What do you see?"

I smiled at him. "I was just wondering how we managed to get my blouse on the mirror."

He turned his head as much as he could with both his own weight and mine on his hair. He had a very wide smile when he turned back. "Have you looked for your bra?"

I gave him wide eyes and started to prop myself up to see the rest of the bureau over his body. He held me down with one gentle hand on my shoulder. "Behind you."

I fell back, still in the circle of his arm. My green lace bra, which had matched both my blouse and my panties, was hanging forlornly from the philodendron plant that sat on the black lacquered armoire in the corner. It hung like a badly chosen Christmas decoration.

I shook my head, half laughing. "I don't remember being in that much of a hurry."

He curved his free hand over my waist, down my hip, drawing closer to me as he pulled me in against his body.