Back to Marlowe's POV... and taking place after Talbot is healed. I have an idea for a chapter that could fit between this one and the last one, but I'm not sure if I'll get around to it. So this is it for now!

With Talbot pressed between the cool cellar wall and the warmth of her own body, Marlowe was hastily unbuttoning his dress shirt in between fervent kisses.

She deftly slid the material from his lightly muscled arms, her hands moving to eagerly rub along the bareness of his chest. Talbot sighed, his hot breath against her mouth as he exhaled.

Business mixed with pleasure wasn't often in Marlowe's schedule, but that had swiftly changed. Since Talbot had healed from quite the serious injury, they found themselves frequently finding time for one another. Much more frequently than she had originally intended, in fact...

The wine cellar, the stables, the laundry room... the garden. Anywhere secluded where their trysts wouldn't be spied upon. Or heard. The latter was a little fact that Marlowe had only recently discovered.

As Marlowe's palms traveled downwards, grazing along the waistband of Talbot's trousers, she allowed her fingers to do some exploring as they dipped into his pants. He released a noise that was halfway between a whimper and a groan as she teased him. Marlowe's lips tugged into a smile, even as they kissed. She loved the way he moaned for her.

Something about him made her feel young, alive, and Marlowe had to admit those were things she hadn't felt in quite a long time. At least, not in the same capacity.

She honestly wondered how long it would last.

Despite her frequent attempts to quell such negative thoughts, she often had her doubts. Lately, they were lying at the back of her mind, like a hungry wolf waiting for the right moment to strike. It was all a matter of keeping it at bay.

The question of morality didn't bother her. More so, it was a matter of personal guilt. In many ways, Marlowe had shaped Talbot, but certainly not in the traditional sense. True, she'd taken him in, clothed him, taught him everything she knew... but he wasn't some insolent adoptee, some child she was sheltering from the rain and the cruelties of the world. Talbot knew them, and he knew them well. He was bred to be a killer, a scholar, a businessman. Talbot knew from the start what he was getting himself into, and Marlowe liked to think that their current involvement was no different. It was one of her only consolations. He could have walked away, could have bowed out gracefully when he had the chance...

... but now, it was far too late for that. Their deal was sealed with a kiss, and there was no turning back.

Marlowe supposed it was fortunate that Talbot followed her as closely as a shadow... and just as silently, without question... never faltering, never wavering. He was always there, always ready... just for her.

With her lips pressing harder against his, Marlowe simultaneously wanted to pull away from him and absorb his very essence into her. She both hated and loved how torn he made her feel every time she touched him.

All along, Marlowe knew within her heart that Talbot was catered to her own selfish interests... not necessarily what was best for the young man, but what was best for herself.

"Don't do this, it can't end well. You know better," said a dark voice at the back of her mind. "Stop while you still can."

Talbot wasn't just some faceless associate she'd met in a bar and decided to drag back to her manor at the end of the day. He was fully immersed, and already much deeper than anyone had ever managed previously. He was the exception in every possible way, the one who broke every single rule that she had followed, steadfast, for countless years.

Marlowe hadn't yet figured out if her world was crumbling, or being built anew... and that's what scared her most of all.

Despite the undeniable pleasure that Talbot brought her each time they met in such a way, Marlowe couldn't help but consider the repercussions of her actions.

Was it so wrong to want it all? Was it taking advantage, or reaping the benefits of something she had a right to? Was Talbot's devotion something she deserved, or something she was doomed to utterly ruin?

Again, an unexpected feeling of dissonance washed over her. Closing her eyes tightly, Marlowe kissed Talbot hard, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He groaned against her, and he seemed mildly surprised when she decided to break their kiss.

His blue eyes, so clear and genuine, searched hers. His expression was serene and inquisitive, with his brow furrowed in concern. She wondered what he saw, or if he had any notion of the storm that was raging inside of her and threatening to tear her apart.

"Marlowe, is something wrong?" he breathed. His voice was huskier than usual, resonating deeply from within his chest. He licked his parted lips. Did he have any idea how truly precious he was to her?

Her palm grazed the stubble along the side of his face as Marlowe leaned in to kiss his cheek, and then nibble on his ear. His hands came to rest gently upon her hips, cradling her body against his with a carefulness that she simply wasn't used to.

"No," she whispered. "Nothing at all."

They embraced, with her fingertips digging into his shoulders and her mouth against Talbot's once again. She held him tight, pulling him close and leaving not an inch between them. He was the rock she could cling to, her sense of calm, even when she felt so tumultuous. With him, she felt safe.

Rules be damned, Marlowe wasn't about to let him go any time soon.