The support of Richard's arm vanished, and I was left with the cold press of glass behind me, as if he'd closed the door to support me, so he wouldn't have to touch me anymore. And because I truly was his master, and that was my true wish, he had to help me do it. The sensation of him sliding his cold body between us, and how we moved in our sleep, waking slowly to his hands on our bodies. I wasn't sure I actually believed that down to my toes, but the panic subsided, and everybody got off of me.
Touching his face more had helped, because, like it or hate it, Jean-Claude's power and mine grew with physicality. There was a slight up-tilt to his eyes, and they were bigger, not much, but just a little, or was it that his eyebrows had a wider arch to them? Were his lashes thicker, darker? Shit. It always means you're about to complicate my job. He uncurled his legs, slowly, body tense, as he waited for me to react, but I was past reacting.
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