She ran her hand down the warm length of his body until she touched the waistband of his pants. Fingers trembling, she slowly undid his fly.
"Shirley—" he hesitated, his body tensing when she touched him. "The timing is wrong."
She closed her eyes and briefly rested her forehead against his shoulder. He was right. This was neither the time nor the place for them to make love. But what other choice did she have? She had to stop the stain of Flinch's darkness growing stronger in her mind.
"Please, Ethan. Just love me."
He groaned again and crushed her to him. She kissed him fiercely, savoring the taste of his lips, his mouth. He caressed her breast, her stomach, her buttocks, his hands gentle yet his touch urgent, setting her aflame with need. She reveled in the play of muscles across his shoulders, the feel of his skin, so smooth and warm against hers.
"Lay down with me," she said softly.
