"Am I the first person to see your tattoo?" Winnie whispered, still lying beside him.

"Yes," Van breathed softly, his tone subtly tense.

"Are there any other 'firsts'?" Winnie asked innocently, her fingers lightly resting on his chest. Her hand was as soft as silk, almost weightless, yet her actions held an unconscious boldness, as if teasing him.

"Winnie," Van called her name in a deep voice, his tone betraying his tension, "Please don't do that."

Winnie persisted, ...