Fifteen
Aelissm propped herself on her elbow and watched Pat sleep, bathed in the obscene yellow glow of the tent. The sun had only just risen high enough to crest the mountain and pierce the forest. Peeking out the mesh window, she discovered their temporary home was in one of very few shafts of sharp morning light. Returning her attention to her lover, she traced the lines of him with her eyes, recalling with exquisite detail every touch, every whispered plea, and every quiver of desire from last night. Lying there, gazing down at Pat, she was soothed by the steady rise and fall of his chest and the way contentment and sleep had eradicated the strain that frequently aged his face. Without those lines, he looked younger than twenty-eight, and she hoped the peace he’d found recently would
