The heat of his body bled through the blankets. Effy sat up and inched closer. She rested her chin on his shoulder very carefully, as if she were setting a glass down on a table and didn’t want it to make a discordant sound.
She felt him breathing slowly, shoulders rising and falling. He turned his head toward her.
He kissed her, or she kissed him—it mattered only as much as it mattered whether the house was sinking or the sea was rising. Once their lips touched, Effy could think of nothing else.
Preston took her face into his hands and, with exceptional gentleness, lowered her back down onto the pillows.
They broke apart for a moment, Preston half on top of her now, propping himself up on his elbows. A bit of water trickled down from the back of his neck, past his collarbone. He said, “Effy, are you sure?”
She nodded. She wanted to say yes, but somehow the word got tangled up in her throat. Instead she said, in a small voice, “I’ve never been with anyone before. I’ve kissed boys—and then there was Master Corbenic, but that was just . . .”
“This won’t be anything like that, Effy. I promise. I’ll be kind to you.”
She believed him. It almost made her want to cry. Carefully she began to work at the buttons on his shirt, baring his throat and then his chest, his abdomen and navel. She had never seen someone stripped down like this before and she was momentarily stunned by the vitality of him—the signs of life in every clench of muscle, every shift that made his bones move under his skin.
Effy couldn’t help but touch him all over, there and there and there, his rib cage and sternum and, finally, the triangle of skin above his belt buckle.
Preston shivered under her touch; she heard him swallow hard. His hands slid under her sweater. “Can I?”
“Yes,” she said, finding the word at last.
He took her sweater by the hem and pulled it over her head. She was bare then, and he kissed her again, softly dragging his mouth along her jawline, down her throat. Effy gave a quiet gasp as his fingers found her breast, but he only moved his hand over it and held it, as if to protect her from the coldness of the air.
Her own hands had stopped at his belt buckle, vexed by it, heart suddenly skipping beats. She felt him again through his trousers, stiff and urgent. It thrilled her and scared her in equal measure. She’d wanted him for so long, and now she knew—there was no doubt—that he wanted her back.
She managed at last to undo his belt and free him of his pants, and he lifted the covers and slid into the bed beside her.
The only thing remaining between them was his glasses. She plucked them off his face and laid them on the bedside table. He blinked at her, as though readjusting his eyes. Effy saw the two little nicks winging the bridge of his nose and ran her thumb over them, feeling where the small bits of metal had made his skin give way.
One corner of his mouth curved. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve always wondered if these hurt.”
“Not really,” he said. “Most of the time I don’t even notice. I wish I could see you more clearly right now. But even blurry you’re so beautiful.”
She felt her cheeks grow warm. There was no cold left in her now at all. “Please be gentle.”
“Oh. I will. I swear it.” He shifted, slowly parting her thighs.
There was a little bit of pain, but it was like a breath that was tightly held: it gave way to seemingly infinite pleasure upon release.
She whimpered quietly into his shoulder, a sound that was half surprise, half surrender. The yielding was easy when the assault was so tender. The land would never protest if the sea washed over it with what could not be called anything else but affection.
They matched each other inhale for inhale, Preston’s mouth close to her ear. When his breathing sped up, Effy could tell he was very close, but then he slowed again, strokes long and deliberate.
“Don’t,” she whispered petulantly against his throat. “Don’t stop.”
“I just wanted to tell you,” he said, “when this is over, I’ll take care of you, too. If you want me to.”
Effy closed her eyes, and even the blackness there behind them was bright with false stars. “I do.”
When it was over, Effy lay beside Preston, both of them concealed by the green covers. She lay on her belly, he on his back, but they faced each other with their cheeks pressed against the pillows.
The four walls around them seemed impenetrable. Effy scarcely heard the rain at all.
“I don’t want to go back out there,” she said, in a tiny muffled voice. “Not ever.”