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“All right,” I agreed with an amendment, “but first, kiss me. I’ve gone a week without your lips, and I don’t want to miss them anymore.” When he drew a breath, everything smoldered—his eyes, his smile, the air between us crackling and hot. “Whatever you want, Theaella .” The sweet softness of his lips surprised me, the week that had passed diluting the memory to swill compared to the pure potency of his kiss. It was arresting, robbing me of will and thought, of power and choice. It was a kiss that claimed me, a signature of his body and soul on mine that I couldn’t erase. I wondered if I’d be branded forever by him and knew with some degree of waariness that the answer was yes. But then he smiled at me and took my hand, ushearing me to the breast pumps with a joke on his lips and a bou
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