Chapter 72

Their time together now was so precarious. Who knew what horror awaited them outside? Who knew, really, if Rufus would live to see another day, especially if there was some faceless, heartless soul out there at this very moment, sharpening and readying a knife intended for Rufus’s heart? Wren shuddered—for more than one reason.

Wren reached up, pulled Rufus’s face down to his own so their lips were so, so close, and whispered the romantic endearment that lovers through the ages have always longed to hear. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

There was no more talk after that. There was only the slap of a body slamming against another body, whispered sighs, protracted moans, and the squeaking of the bedsprings, which took only minutes to reach a crescendo, the bed legs actually rising up from the floor to bang against the hardwood below.

Afterward they lay sweating, breathless, arms and legs still intertwined, the smell of sweat and come heavy in the air.