She imagined Bert finding the mark, and asking her, and she didn't know what she would say. Nonsense, it wasn't what it looked like, it was just--what? A rash, a mark from a curling iron, a scratch?
The nerves should have hit her, but they didn't. Maybe that's what this was, after all. A way to push him away, or to pull back after how quickly things had been moving. And who would be a better pick for that sort of game than the man hovering above her right now?
"How often do people know?" she asked. "When you take people to bed, how often do they know who you are?"
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She imagined Bert finding the mark, and asking her, and she didn't know what she would say. Nonsense, it wasn't what it looked like, it was just--what? A rash, a mark from a curling iron, a scratch?
The nerves should have hit her, but they didn't. Maybe that's what this was, after all. A way to push him away, or to pull back after how quickly things had been moving. And who would be a better pick for that sort of game than the man hovering above her right now?
"How often do people know?" she asked. "When you take people to bed, how often do they know who you are?"