Page 72 of These Dead Promises

I brushed my hand along her collarbone and pushed the hair off her shoulder. Her breath caught, a shiver running through her.

“Get naked, B, now,” I drawled, my heart crashing violently against my chest.

Part of me wanted to hit the light switch and look at her. But there was something about being in the dark that felt right. Not because we wanted to hide or blend with the shadows but because we understood.

We got it.

“Nix?”

“Yeah, B.”

“You do it,” she breathed. “I want you to do it.”