I tilt my face up. His eyes are right there. Blue, tired, and completely, ruinously focused on me.
Then, when my lips are there for the taking, he finally takes mercy and kisses me.
Not like in the hospital, when he was angry and starving, proving a point. Not like any other time, either.
This kiss is something else. This kiss is the kind of kiss a man gives a woman when he isn’t trying to take anything from her, when the only thing he wants is to give her something back that’s been stolen.
His lips brush mine. Pull away an inch. Come back. His hand at the nape of my neck guides me closer, and his other hand spreads wide and warm at the small of my back, right at the spot where Raymond’s hand has lived for four years.
I imagine the skin under his touch sloughing off and regrowing as s
