Brent Weeks

"Kiss me" Karris said.
"Pardon?"
"It wasn't a request."
He stood up from his chair and sat on the edge of her bed. She grunted with pain as his movement jostled her.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "Maybe-"
"Not a request."
"But your lisps are craked and -"
"Not a request."
"Ah"
He kissed her with the gentleness of a man kissing an invalid.
She pulled back, peering at him through swollenness-slitted eyes, disaproving. "That was horrible, Dazen Guile. That was 'not' the kiss I've been waiting sixteen years for."