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exhale.
    This time, he doesn’t ask to touch me. And I think I prefer that.
    His fingertips roam lightly over my cheekbone then swoop down slowly to caress my jaw. He curls his hand so he can feel the same area of my face with the backs of his fingers. A shiver travels through me, down my arms, through my chest, into my belly, and pulses between my legs.
    “Shh.” He shushes me gently when he hears my breathing getting heavier.
    Somehow it works. It works so well, I don’t notice he’s removing my sunglasses until he pulls them away from my face.
    “Relax, ma chérie .”
    I take in a deep breath through my nose and let it out through my mouth. I can see his face a bit more without my sunglasses, though the bedroom is even darker than the kitchen. I reach for his cheek and his other hand lands on top of mine. He presses my hand against his warm skin then nuzzles his cheek against the palm of my hand.
    “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to fear me.”
    A surge of raw emotion rises to the surface and I feel my eyes beginning to water. I’ve never been touched like this.
    Suddenly, my mind draws back to a cold, rainy day eight years ago. Eleven years old and running a fever so high I could hardly see straight. I couldn’t move my body as my muscles were beginning to seize up. I begged my mother to take me to the doctor.
    She looked down at me from where she sat on the edge of my bed and shook her head. “It’s just a fever, Alex. Do you want all those doctors and nurses to make fun of your face over a silly fever?” I grabbed her hand, desperately trying to force her to feel my forehead and she recoiled, yanking her hand away and standing up quickly. “Stop it! You don’t touch me. You don’t touch anyone !”
    “Alex?”
    Daimon’s voice draws me out of this painful memory. My hand is still on his face and his hand is still on mine, wiping the tears as they slide down my cheeks. I pull my hand away from his face and let it fall onto the bed between his leg and my side.
    “Alex, are you all right?”
    I look up at the dark place where his face is beneath the hood. As if he can sense what I’m thinking, he reaches up and pushes his hood back. I still can’t see the details of his features, but the ghostly outlines of his cheeks and nose are clearer. He has short hair. Almost short enough to be a military cut.
    “Sit up, so you can feel my face,” he whispers. “I want you to form a picture of me in your mind.”
    I sit up on my knees next to him, then he bows his head slightly as I begin exploring his face with both hands. I trace both thumbs over the straight bridge of his nose and up over each eyebrow. And a picture of his face begins to form.
    His brow bone is prominent and his cheekbones and jaw are sharply angled. He keeps his eyes open as I lightly trace my fingertips over his eyelids and under his eyes. I can’t see if his eyes are dark or light, but I can feel that they’re round and turn down ever so slightly at the outer corners.
    I pause for a moment so he reaches up and brings my fingertips down onto his mouth. Then he lets go and allows me to trace the outline of his lips. As I thought, his top lip has beautiful peaks and his bottom lip is slightly fuller. I trace my thumb over his bottom lip, marveling at the softness, when suddenly his lips pucker and he plants a delicate kiss on the soft pad of my thumb.
    That pulsing between my legs is becoming almost painful. I pull my hand away and sit further back until my bottom is on top of my feet.
    I place my hands in my lap and nod my head. “Your turn.”
    He scoots a bit closer to me and I lower my head a bit because I know what he’s going to do. He slowly reaches up and I close my eyes as he pushes my hood back. Immediately, I feel his hand on the left side of my head. He can see the streak of white hair through the darkness. I shiver as his fingers run through my hair and it falls softly over my shoulder.
    “Open your