Chapter 7

It was as if he hadn’t heard. He leaned forward again and placed his hands on my waist, just inside the sheet, and he pressed gently into my flesh. It was right on the place I’d been injured, and I winced. “Hey, watch it—”

“You’re hurt, Steven. I’ll be gentle this time. It will heal soon.”

The touch of his fingers on my wound should have been hideously painful, but somehow it wasn’t. I twisted in the dark, leaning so close to him that I saw the gentle throb of his Adam’s apple. A drop of sweat shimmered on his throat. Why didn’t I push him away?

“How do you know my name?” Had I told him, perhaps in my sleep? Yet now I remembered how he’d called me Steven downstairs last night, even before I slept. With him. I wondered where my wallet was. Had he been through my meagre belongings, spying on me?

“Open your mouth,” he whispered. “I want to kiss you. Give me your tongue.”