Eleven
“WHY DO WE HAVE TO go back today… and so early?” I asked him as we took off from the obscure airfield outside Paris, heading back home.
I was tired not just because we’d had an early start, but also because he’d kept me up half the night making love.
“Weekends are busiest for us.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, watching France disappear beneath clouds as he stared out of the window. “They just are.”
I was too tired to argue, or to press him for more details. As soon as the seatbelt lights went out, I slackened my belt and rested my head in his lap, falling instantly asleep.
I woke up at the Elstree house, in Dante’s bed, no idea how I’d gotten there. Except maybe he’d carried me from the plane to the car and then to his bed – all while I was sleeping. I must have been tired.
I checked
