*Ethan*
How can she not intrude, I wonder, when we are sitting in opposite chairs before the fireplace in the library, me with my scotch … half the amount I would have poured had she not been there … and she with Wuthering Heights?
While I stare at the low flames sending out their warmth, I inhale her rose fragrance, hear her quiet breathing. I am quite simply so aware of her presence that she might as well be sitting on my lap. Not that she would be reading if that were so. I would have my lips on hers, my hands gliding over her back and shoulders. My fingers would unfasten the back of her gown, peel it down until …
“I think you should record your reflections." She mumbles.
With horror that my errant thoughts might have been revealed on my face, I jerked my attention to her, relieved to
