cold cheek against the hollow at the base of my throat. I was quite unable to move, even if I'd wanted to. I listened to the even sound of his breathing, watching the sun and wind play in his bronze hair, wondering why he was breathing.
With deliberate slowness, his hands slid down the sides of my neck. I shivered, and I heard him catch his breath. But his hands didn't pause as they softly moved to my shoulders, and then stopped.
His face drifted to the side, nose skimming across my collarbone. He came to rest with the side of his face pressed tenderly against my chest.
Listening to my heart.
"Ah," he sighed.
"Ah," I sighed, finally realizing what was happening. I felt a bit self-conscious. What if my heart was beating irregularly, or murmuring? What would he think of me then?
I don't know how long we sat without moving, but it was longer than I had ever sat, probably without moving. It could have been hours. Eventually the throb of my pulse quickened, but he didn't move or speak again as he held me. I knew at any moment it could be too much, and my life could end—so quickly that I might not even notice. And I couldn't make myself be afraid. I couldn't think of anything, except that he was touching me.
And then, too soon—but how could it have not been—he released me.
His eyes were peaceful.
"It won't be so hard again," he said with satisfaction.
"Was that very... hard for you?" I asked, trying to picture myself in his situation, picturing me as a burrito.
"Not nearly as bad as I imagined it would be," he said, interrupting my thoughts. I guess I would have to wait 'til I was alone to fully explore that thought. "And you?"
"What?"
"Was it... bad for you?
"Why would it be bad for me?" I asked.
He paused. He smiled. "You know what I mean."
It was my turn to smile.

277

Chapter 13

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