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Only a painful reversal of his rapidly healing wounds kept the medics from strapping him to a gurney and shipping him to a black site for dissection.The muffled sound of a ringing cell phone broke him from his dark thoughts. He tossed a towel aside and dug the phone out of his sweatpants' pocket."Yo!" he said."Yo, yourself," Janie replied. "You sound out of breath." I bought an exercise machine," he fibbed. Actually, he'd bought a room full of them; weight machines, free weights, a running treadmill, exercise bike. All professional grade equipment, and he'd been putting it to use. "How's school?" I shipped the last of my dorm stuff home," she said. "All I have left is what I can carry on the plane, or don't plan to take with me." When's your last day?" The twelfth, as if you didn't know." Was that the date?" Scott wiped the sweat from his face with the towel and headed upstairs. "I think you've only told me fifty times." It hasn't been that many," she said. "Listen, the reason I. He did. Still slowly, moving gently, almost. The boards of my attic bedroom, in my poor husband's old, creaking house, did not sound beneath his steps. His face was still shaded when he reached for me, but that only made the first touch sweeter. My thief was who I wanted him to be, like that. As he ran a shaking hand into my hair, brought another down to join my own on my breast, he was a desert prince divesting me of my silken robe. As he settled on the edge of my bed, warmth and solidity at my side, he was an immoral brother, tempted and desperate. As he lowered his mouth to my neck, trailed his fingers down my belly, he was husband. He drew my gown up my legs and was Saint Valentine himself. But when he took his tongue to my skin and his fingers, hardened by larceny, quickened, delved where I was most eager, he was a thief broken into my home in a moonless night. He was invited. I took him into my body and allowed him to do as he might. He was nearly silent, moving over me that.
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