The ring glinted on his left hand as he wrapped it around the case handle. Silver and turquoise, a little thicker than the one around my own slender heart-finger. I'd picked the pair of them out after he left for the first time—he'd barely been able to stay long enough for the wedding service, and I hadn't even been certain he'd come back. Every time I saw the matching ring on my own hand, it was a reminder Kanovan existed and was married to me, that the universe had room for something as strange and wonderful as that. Maybe he remembered me when he saw his and marveled at the same thing.
Not for the first time, I wondered if I would care this passionately if I had a husband who didn't live on other worlds half the days in the standard calendar. But thinking of Kanovan—of my husband—as a man who never left my side was a contradiction in terms. I knew it when I asked him to marry me; it was why I'd asked.
"You're thoughtful," he said as we entered the cab.
"You're a lot to think about." The words slipped out as I keyed directions into the cab computer. Kanovan's breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.
"I've thought about you, too."
"I should hope so."
His fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of my neck. "When we get home, I could use a long shower."
As soon as the door closed behind us, I pressed Kanovan against the wall and kissed him like he was oxygen. His lips were soft, and he tasted like sugared rose petals—musky and sweet. I dragged his lower lip between my teeth, drawing a frisson of pain and pleasure. Not normally my thing, but with Kanovan, my boundaries dropped. And there was something appealing about pinning him down and completely overwhelming him, not only physically, but with my knowledge of what he wanted and my willingness to give it. The power was heady, sexy—how could it not be?
His strong, violinist's fingers ran through my hair, massaging my scalp and neck. My own hands tangled in his curls, pulling his head back so I could deepen the kiss. I wound up taking some strands out by the roots on accident, though he certainly didn't mind. The hairs remained curled tightly around my finger like a brass ring. I left them there, even as I loosened his collar and brushed the sensitive skin at the sides of his throat. His pulse pounded rapidly beneath my fingertips.
We must have spent a quarter hour just kissing, relearning each other. Then Kanovan nudged me back, gently but firmly, and we made our way across the room, undressing as we went—stopping by the couch to undo the laces on my boots, a pause on the kitchen table where I unbuttoned his shirt, and then gave in to the urge for another snog.