She’d pulled his arm around her while spooning up against him after Agnes’s 3 A.M. feeding. It had roused him from a horrible dream about gardening shears. He’d lain there half the night, listening to her breathe, watching the gentle rise and fall of her alabaster throat, inhaling her scent.She’d been awake for a while before he’d realized it. It was a game she played, feigning the long slow breathing of a deep sleep and wondering if he’d notice. She was good at it. They’d lain awake together while the sun rose. They hadn’t made love since they’d brought Agnes home. Not since long before France. But Liv hadn’t been out of hospital long. He wouldn’t press; he could wait until she was ready.Her fingertip paused in its wanderings. She whispered, “And what about this one?”“Which one?”She was counting his scars. He had a few.“Ring finger. Just above the second knuckle.” She kissed the spot.“Ah. That one.” He stroked the knuckle across her navel. Liv inhaled, flinching from the tickle.
What do You think about Necessary Evil (Milkweed Triptych)?
