Vark POV

The morning light comes through the tall windows at an angle I’ve always liked—the way it falls across the room, across the chair, across the woman sitting beside me with her back straight and her hands in her lap and her expression composed into the particular blankness she wears when she’s thinking harder than she’s letting on.

I slide my hand beneath the collar of her robe and cup her breast, feeling her breath catch—that small involuntary thing she ...