Oh. You're a thief.

[Carefully, he sets Bruno back down onto his feet, hating to relinquish the satisfying feeling of holding him, but wanting to be able to touch him more — to catch the ends of his hair between his fingers, to follow the column of his neck and tease at the nip where it meets his shoulder.]

What are you going to do with it, now that you've got it? That heart you stole from me. I bet you've got some terrible plan for it.