From beneath me, Henry’s lips trace my shoulder, leaving a trail of wetness. I turn to him, look questioningly. “I want to do this with you, just once. I want you to experience this. If you want to. If you’re nervous—” “I am. Nervous, I mean.” Henry hears what I don’t say: that I want to experience this with him, too. “You’re in good hands. We’ll go slow. And you can stop it at any time if you change your mind. Just say the word. Okay?”
