“Why the hell don’t you have curtains?” he asked, desperate for anything to draw him out of her thrall.
Rose laughed and the sound rattled her throat. “Why on earth would I need curtains?” She took a step closer.
“To keep the light out.”
“What if I want to keep the light in?”
In, out, he breathed. He inhaled and she was his Rose. He exhaled and she was other.
“It’s late,” she murmured. “And I don’t want to be alone.”
He had dozens of half-formed thoughts, but one rose above the rest: This was not how he’d imagined it would happen. Landon exhaled. “Rose…”
“Just tonight,” she said, bridging the space between them completely. “Don’t think about tomorrow.”
“What about Graham?”
She looked confused. “What do you mean, ‘What about Graham?’”
“You’re with him.” Landon felt strange saying the obvious. “You’re together.”
“I could forget him tomorrow.” If she hadn’t said it with such a straight face, Landon would have laughed.
“Sure,” he said, all but throwing his hands up. “And I could forgetyoutomorrow.”
“You could.” At once she was as cold as her one-bedroom flat. His mind raced. An image of his Rose came to him, a photograph he’d taken of her the day of their college graduation, reaching for Poppy like it would cause her physical pain to be parted. A memory came to him—a silly, out of place memory—of his Rose, four months pregnant, getting out of the passenger seat and stopping traffic to help a large snapping turtle cross an overpass into the wetlands near their home. It did not seem possible that his Rosehad become someone who treated others so callously. But then, his Rose had left him without a word, hadn’t she?
Rose mistook Landon’s contemplation for desire, but in lunging for him, ignited it anyway. As they had when they were young and untouched by time, they moved so fast it would have been impossible to know who moved first. Her tongue swirled in his mouth, and Landon tried to blunt the memory of what it had felt like to kiss her under the covers of their king bed, the way they tangled mouths and limbs as though completing a jigsaw puzzle. This was hungry and strange, though only one of them knew why.
Rose pulled him by the shirt toward her bed, an unmade mattress on a simple metal frame pushed up against the wall. “I want you,” she said in a whisper. “I think I’ve wanted you since I met you.”
They were the words he’d wanted to hear since he’d first hatched this plan. Some version of them, anyway. Why did they ring so hollow? And why, of all things, was Conor’s voice in his head? His wedding toast had been rumbling through like a thunderstorm since Conor had called and tried to dissuade him from whatever it was he was doing: “She is gentle and wild, poised and undone, kind and exacting.” His Rose, no matter her intent, had always been two things at once. She was never pure id, because hard as she fought it, the young girl who’d been through too much was forever her foundation. ButthisRose wanted something, so she reached out and grabbed it. His throat tightened. The bare walls felt like they were closing in.
Then Rose’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling him down onto the duvet, undoing his belt buckle. His hands pulled her T-shirt, heavy with moisture from the vaults and the rain, over her head,and unclipped her bra. He reached out to touch her, surprised by how suddenly shy he felt. Her body was no stranger to him, but the way they moved together was different enough that if he closed his eyes, she was unknowable. Landon’s fingers traced her neckline, his breath shaky and uneven. He inhaled and his Rose came to him, moaning with pleasure as his hands found her wetness and moved slowly and deliberately over it in a perfect rhythm. He exhaled and this Rose arched into him, her hands steady as she slid his shirt up and over his shoulders.
“Stop thinking,” she said, pulling his hair and bringing his lips to hers.
He almost laughed, but choked instead. “Is it that obvious?”
“Just give in.”
It should have been simple. His hands skimmed over bare skin, arms pulled her closer, deeper, like if he just got close enough to her, he could undo everything. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him down, down. “Rose,” he whispered, forehead against hers. His hands mapped the small of her waist and the sweep of her hips, and he told himself it felt like home to counter all of the ways that it didn’t. The moment before he pressed inside her, their tongues tangled together, he put a name to what she tasted like: something that’s lost, and does not want to be found.
Landon stood in front of the large windows in Rose’s living room, a glass of water in his hands, wishing, more than anything, that she’d cared enough to put up curtains. Just underneath the window sat a drafting table covered in unfinished sketches. All portraits of the same face, only half-formed. It upset Landon almost as much as the vaults had.
Rose came at him from behind, pressing her naked body intohim and placing a comparatively tame kiss on his back at the highest point her mouth could reach. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.
Far too much. “I was just looking at your sketches.”
She peered around him, trailing kisses down his back. “I don’t know why I can’t seem to draw anything else, lately. I don’t have this problem in class. It’s just when I’m here. Alone.”
Landon reached for her hand to see if holding it would stop his own from shaking. “Who are they?”
Rose shrugged. “I’m not sure. Probably someone I’ve seen on the street. My subconscious is working through something, and I just like to give her the space to do it.” She stood on her tiptoes. “Would you kiss me good night? I’m exhausted.” There was no lifetime in which he would not honor that request. He drew her close, the kiss stilted by the awkward angle. “And you’ll come to bed soon?” she asked.
“Soon,” he said. “Minutes. Count sheep until I’m there.”
Rose giggled. “You’re sweet.” She slipped through his fingers and ambled off to bed, her head hitting the pillow with an audible thud. Landon was tired, too, but couldn’t imagine ever falling asleep like that, without a care in the world. The way children fall asleep.