Chapter Forty-Eight
Lincoln
“You can’t stay,” Michaela said. The night.
The night“I know.” My flight was early, too.
And the last thing I wanted was to send her home mad at me for making her oversleep.
Jackets and stuff left behind, we hurried upstairs.
But once inside her room, I didn’t want to hurry at all.
This could be the very last time I touched her body and I wanted to savor every moment. Commit every look, every sound, every feeling to memory. She sobered at my change of pace, of mood, but didn’t try to change it.
feelingDid tonight mean as much to her, too?
Took my time undressing her, starting with her shoes. I’d been tender after the funeral, but this was different—I wanted her to feel worshipped.
Of course, Michaela never had much patience and her hands didn’t remain
