Oh no. Don't smile. You'll kill me. I stop breathing when you smile.

He laced his hands behind his neck and propped his boots on the opposite arm of the sofa. If an artist were to capture this image, it would have been labeled,Smugness: A Portrait. She wanted to shake him.

What on earth are you wearing? Did you take orders in a convent since we spoke last? Little Sisters of the Drab and Homely.

Her chin lifted. "Very well. Here is my best offer. Half of my nakedness for all of yours."

He pretended to think on it. " It's a bargain.

No man deserves a woman like that. He mortgages his very soul to win her and spends his life paying off the debt.

I was afraid. Of getting hurt in other ways. To be truthful, I still am."
His thumb stroked her cheek. "I would never hurt you."
"I don't think you can promise me that." She squeezed his bruised fingers. "But it makes things a bit more equal, to know that I can hurt you, too."
His gaze fell to her lips. He said simply, without any trace of irony, "You are killing me.