Edwin swallowed again. His eyes tightened and Robin thought about the way Edwin had acted when they’d been intimate before now; the way he’d been generous with his actions, with bestowing pleasure, but kept his own pleasure in reserve. Or rushed it to completion before it could be properly observed. The care, the hunger, the drawing-back, the fear—how hadn’t Robin seen it? You could still hurt me. Edwin, who’d learned to hide the things he wanted so completely that he almost didn’t let himself want them at all.
