A/N: Sorry this took me so long to finish. I had a serious case of writer's block. Hope you like it. Soundtrack link is available in my profile.
The ride was so quiet. He hadn't even noticed until now, too pleased with himself. This must be what it was like to finally feel like a man, grown up after so many years. It was when he'd turned off the car in front of her building that he began to feel that something was not as it should be. It was a palpable quiet, tense. The only sound was an occasional creak beside him as the passenger shifted uncomfortably in her seat. How many times had she done this now, only to be drowned out by the sounds of "Feliz Navidad" and "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" and whatever else the stations had played in the last hour?
Her eyes seemed smoky with smudged makeup where she'd stopped tears from falling by rubbing them back into her lashlines, and her lower lip was much duller than the upper, yet full and dark pink because she'd chewed and sucked so hard that the lipstick was completely gone.
"I'm not sure you should come up." It was the voice of another woman, one who'd known heartache and was weary of ever crossing its path again. It was empty and devoid of everything that made her voice so beautiful. Its musical ring, the hint of joy that might swing right up into a childlike laugh- gone.
"What?"
"This was quite possibly the most uncomfortable two days of my life and definitely the worst Christmas."
"Leslie-"
"You knew that it could turn out like that and that I wanted to just spend a quiet holiday for once. You knew that and you dragged me into it anyway like I was some kind of distraction for your father and that terrible woman."
"If you just let me-"
"You're just like all the others. You don't care about me. I'm just some rebound or an acceptable alternative to being alone. I thought you were finally going to come out and say I was your girlfriend, but the only people that did that were your dad and Brenda."
"That's not-"
"You crash my date with a normal person, Archie Morris. You act like a total jerk at work only to lavish me with affection when we're alone. You invite me to your family's home for Christmas after I've only known you three months just to be your protection when it inevitably goes bad. I honestly can't figure out if you're twisted or just an idiot."
"You don't understand."
"No, I'm glad that you got closure with that whole Dad thing, Archie. I'm happy that you stood up to him, and I'm not saying you shouldn't have said the things you said, but I didn't want to be the 'magic feather that helped you fly' or something. I thought you were taking me home to show me off or-or-I don't even know. Maybe I don't want to know. I wish that you could see the person that I saw and be him all the time. The guy who was so honest with me, who gave me those stupid reigns, who would have done anything to prevent my being hurt, and who didn't want to hide us anymore. Remember him? I liked him."
"But you wanted to keep us hidden."
"You just don't get it, do you? I've lived under a microscope forever and under the eye of protective services and camera lenses that reported my entire life to everyone. You got to make mistakes, Archie, and the only person that paid was you. If I was out with the wrong guy, if I got wasted at some party, if I flunked a class, people would have known. My problems aren't just mine; they reflect back on my family and my dad's ethics and ability to lead people. My mistakes not only cost him his dream, but they cost everyone who believed in him and what he stands for. So I've had to be careful. I've had to work twice as hard, and I'm so damned used to the thick black line that separates the public Leslie from the private one that it's been hard to think about it any other way. I never wanted to hide us; I wanted to make sure that there was an 'us' first. I didn't want to be another notch on your belt. I hear them talk about you, the stories they tell. Sometimes I think that you even try to live up to them. But I was so sure that wasn't who you were. Now…" At this, she had tipped her head back to let the tears wash back into her eyes and begun to fumble for the handle of the door.
"Don't do this Leslie. Come on, you'd rather cap off an agreed terrible day with a night alone than let me come in and make it up to you? 'Cause I will; I'll make it up to you."
"Good night."
The finality of it all brought him back to consciousness again. It had been just three days, and he'd relived those few minutes in his mind more times than he could count. They distracted him during rounds. They hung in the background during traumas, just waiting for a portion of his mind to clear so that they could swim back into his thoughts. Though there had been plenty of times that they'd gone days without crossing paths in the ER, it suddenly seemed intentional, as though she was always looking around the corner for him and hiding as he passed.
He wanted just a moment to see her face and gauge that first reaction. Would she wince in pain or regret? Would she glare in anger? Would she lower her eyes in remorse? Steal a hopeful glance that he was still looking at her with that same longing and admiration that he always had? But every time he looked for her, he only saw the angry faces of the mothers who had been in chairs with feverish toddlers for six hours, the annoyed residents waiting for him to make calls, the bewildered nurses who'd been asking him for orders only to have him take five times longer than it usually took.
His old demons, the ones that hungered for flesh and excess, were still there, and he questioned what exactly he'd lost for a few seconds. He'd never known if the sex was good or miss the way that her skin felt against him or the way that her body fit his, but he missed something much deeper. For the first time in his life, Morris missed the reassurance of knowing that there was someone who would always listen, someone who knew just how to make the parts of him that had been grated away by the outside world come back. The way that his jokes and teasing made her laugh instead of just rolling her eyes like everyone else. He missed their secret language of looks and touches. He missed his friend.
Morris wondered if she had opened the box he'd given her for Christmas to find the silver snowflake on its fine chain. Maybe she'd thrown away the whole thing without opening it, or she'd opened it and flushed the necklace down her toilet where all crap should go. There were a million things that could have happened. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he had to admit, he wasn't sorry that he'd given it to her. Without that silent commitment on his part, maybe he wouldn't have gotten as much time with her. Maybe she would have called him out before Thanksgiving; maybe he wouldn't have even gotten November.
There is always a point after the death of a "thing" with someone when people look back and feel regret, whether it is that they ever met someone or that they never said or did something or that they let things end the way they did. But his was the other kind of regret: the regret that it couldn't have gone on longer, that he couldn't make her see that he was all those things that she said he hadn't been… or at least that he was willing to try.
"Sh-sh! Here she comes. I'll find out once and for all. And remember the deal," Ray said, pointing at Neela, who rolled her eyes and lifted a candy bar out of her pocket. "Hey Leslie," Ray greeted in a sing-song voice. "I see that you're working New Years Eve until eight, and I was just wondering if it would be possible for me to get a little earlier time out that day. Killer party."
"Hey Ray, I'm going to need all my residents so that I can get out of here on time for my own killer party," she replied in a mocking tone. "But you could ask whoever's on after me; they might take pity on you."
"Doubtful… it's Morris," Ray replied, shooting a look at Neela, who looked up with interest to see Leslie's reaction.
Typical of any staff member who heard that name, Leslie gave an involuntary eye-roll and curl of the lip. "Yeah, you're probably right. Well, I guess we could play it by ear, but if there's a lot going on, you're staying the whole shift." She signed off on a chart and made her way to the curtains for rounds without another word.
"You still think she's the 'hot chick' that 'went gooey' at the aquarium?" Ray asked, folding his arms and looking down at Neela, who threw her hands up and produced the Twix from her pocket, handing it to him. "Thank you."
"So are we cracking him?" Gates asked, readying a ribspreader.
"No, we're not," Morris answered from where he'd been examining films. He pulled a tray over and started work. He loved when he could show Gates up with a small, simple procedure. Tony liked to play gunslinger in the ER, especially when Neela was working the OR, but it was these moments that Morris relished.
"Stats are dropping," Hope reminded him.
"O ye of little faith," he replied, making a small incision and reaching for another tool. "Call the OR; Dubenko's gonna want this guy now." Tony cocked his head and leaned in for a closer look. As if on cue, the patient's stats began to rise.
"Nice catch, Dr. Morris," Hope congratulated with a grin. Gates set the instrument down a bit harder than necessary. Morris started to reply but caught a glimpse of Jerry hanging onto an older man who was jabbing a finger into the face of a wide-eyed Dr. Thomas. He excused himself into the hallway.
"You owe me $24.75!" the man screamed.
"I told you; I need to get my wallet. My wallet is in here," she repeated, backing toward the lockerroom. Morris pushed past her to his own locker, where he'd taken to keeping his own wallet after a pickpocket had robbed him in curtains.
"Here, how about $40 for your trouble?" he offered, pushing a crumpled handful at the man.
Everyone was quiet for a moment as the man examined the bills, pocketed them, and left without another word. For the first time, Morris had a moment to study the woman before him. She was wrapped up in a wool coat, pulling it tightly around herself as she shifted back and forth on silver strappy shoes. Her hair hung in soft curls that fell in the middle of her back. He couldn't see her dress, but he wished that he could.
She straightened up and made her way to her locker, opening the door. Morris hung in the doorway and waited for her to acknowledge him. When she didn't, he smirked, "'Thanks, Archie, for the forty bucks and for saving me from the weirdo,'" he said in a high-pitched voice, "Oh no problem, Leslie. It's just what I do." She let out a frustrated growl and paused momentarily before swinging her head back to stare at him.
"I was getting there, okay? First, I've got to find the key I keep in here. The one with the-"
"Pig keychain? Yeah, you forgot your keys at my place last week and had to take that one home with you, remember?"
The image of the keychain sitting on her kitchen counter swam back to her. "Shit. I left my purse in a friend's car, and he left the party with someone and took it with him on accident. Ugh, and I was going to pay the cabbie with my emergencies card from my locker stash." Leslie seemed to be momentarily in her own world, talking to herself. Her eyes had been staring at the shelf of her locker, but they shifted now to him. "I only have $7.50 in vending machine funds. Let me go to the ATM." His arm reached out to stop her, giving her a gentle push back to the space between him and her locker.
"It's okay. Call it your Christmas gift." She hesitated before sheepishly opening her coat. At first, all he could see was the beautiful slate-colored satin slipdress and how it flowed like mercury on her curves, but it was easy to follow the line of her cleavage to a silver snowflake shining brilliantly against her porcelain skin. "Okay, your second gift," he corrected, swallowing.
"It was so pretty and perfect," she whispered, avoiding his eyes. She sighed, fingering the necklace, absently. "I wanted to call you," she began.
"Don't. I mean, you're tired and have been drinking and-"
"No, I haven't," she countered defensively. She was about to argue further when she decided that it just wasn't worth it. He wasn't going to get under her skin. "Anyway, I wanted to call you after I opened it," she murmured, fidgeting.
"You don't have to-"
"No, I started thinking about what you told me in the kitchen on Christmas Eve. About all that. And it made me think that maybe I judged you too quickly and that maybe there's reasons why you are who you are that are beyond your control. I went on and on about wanting to be invisible to someone whose biggest fear is never being noticed and complained about my connection to my dad to the guy who lost that connection when he was eight years old. It was just as much your right to peace as it was mine. And it wasn't even all bad." His mind flew to his confession in bed, but he knew that she was talking about the pond.
"I wouldn't have told you those things in the kitchen if I wasn't- if I didn't see something with you. I'm not sticking around to use you. I mean, I guess I wasn't b-"
"You know when you were a kid when you spent every day all summer with the same friend- how even though they're your best friend, you get into those stupid fights about nothing by August? Maybe that never really stops. I should have been there for you after all that happened, but I wasn't; I was thinking about myself and how much I wished that we could have been curled up on the couch watching it snow."
"I know, I know. That's all I really wanted; it's all I ever really want." They were quiet for a moment, and Morris saw opportunity open a small window. "Let me take you home. Please? My shift is over in a few hours, and you can sleep in one of the exam rooms until then."
"I don't even have keys to get into my place," she admitted.
"I wasn't talking about your place." Leslie's mouth snapped shut, and she raked her fingers through her hair. Morris thought he saw the tiniest hint of delight sweep over her, but she quickly checked her emotions again, remembering how things had gone the last time.
"I don't know-"
"Let me give you the day that you wanted."
"Just like that?" Her tone was skeptical, but he could tell that a part of her wanted to believe that they could have back those days spent doing nothing but smiling and laughing and holding one another.
"I can't make it up to you in a day, but I can get started. It's a new year; time to start over." A slow smile spread across her face, cheekbones rising up in rosy apples.
"I hate you," she sighed.
"I know," he replied, closing the gap between them and enveloping her, breathing her in.
The door swung open, and Ray pushed in without looking. "Morris, I-" He stopped in his tracks at the sight of the two, frozen before him. "Wow, I- sorry, I didn't- are you guys…?"
Morris looked down at Leslie, who offered a gentle squeeze in response. "Yeah."
"That was none of my business, actually. Whatever I was about to ask- I just- it's not important." He pushed out in the hallway and stood rooted where he was, picturing again all that he had just seen. He shook his head and approached the vending machine, punching in the familiar F5 and retrieving the foil package from the tray. Passing Neela in the hall, he tossed her the candy bar without a word.
It was a cold gray morning when the two emerged from County General, Leslie still rubbing her eyes. The sky was the color of old bathwater with murky swirls where there should have been soft clouds and absolutely no sign of the sun's shape.
Twice during the drive, he saw her head begin to nod into sleep, only to snap back up. He actually couldn't believe that this moment was happening.
"Give me a running start." In his week of self-loathing and defiant bachelorhood, Morris had managed to undo what had taken nearly a year to mold in the apartment. He thought of the take-out boxes, the comforter and pillows on the couch where he'd fallen asleep watching Sportscenter, the dirty laundry, and the dishes on the counter.
"Why? How long do I have to wait here? I've seen your apartment."
"Just humor me."
"Five minutes."
"Ten."
"Two."
"Five it is."
Leslie had no intension of letting him have more than a minute or two's head start. She watched him scamper up the steps to his hallway from where she stood in the entryway. Her feet had actually stopped throbbing the day before, but standing on them for the first time that morning, the pain was acute as she perched on the two bruised balls of her feet. Sighing, she carefully slipped the shoes off and was greeted with the momentary relief of the cold, wet rug beneath her feet.
She paused for a moment to think about what she was doing. Even as she'd swapped shifts and ducked in and out at odd times to avoid him, Archie Morris had been everywhere she was and in her thoughts all the time. Archie made her feel important just for being alive, never mind the accolades or her family tree. She couldn't forget the way he'd felt in her arms as she comforted him on Christmas Eve. He'd melted into her, seeming to grope for the comfort he'd been secretly waiting for all those years and reluctant to let go. His fears- never belonging and no one ever really knowing who he was- were her own. She couldn't forget the desperation in his eyes as she left his car on Chistmas evening, as though he was digging for words that did not exist.
The more she replayed the whole two days in her mind, the more she began to regret judging him for his behavior. His whole reason for wanting to go home was to salvage the threads of a relationship with his father in the name of feeling as though he belonged to something. As he'd revealed himself to her, she had accepted him, embraced him. It had been her understanding, her compassion that had made him see that he was not alone at all. He'd realized that he didn't have to try to belong with her; they just fit together. But in the process of leaving his father, he'd inadvertently alienated himself from her. It must have been so confusing and so very lonely.
Morris was infuriating at times, the way he could be two different people, but if anyone knew about duality of persona, it was Leslie. Inside of the very forced public fascade, there was the real person waiting to come out. It was only when she identified the side of Archie that she liked so much that she realized how much she liked herself around him. He made her feel silly and clumsy and... normal. While everyone expected Leslie to be perfect, they didn't expect much at all from him. Thinking about everything that had happened, it was clear that what he wanted the most was for someone to accept him and to be proud of him and treat him as an equal, as an adult. It was just all too easy to give the people what they wanted, however, than to change their minds. Forget the people; over the past week, it had become crystal clear to her that what she wanted was Archie Morris, and the way that he'd admitted their relationship to Ray had reaffirmed her decision to give things another chance.
Walking mostly on the sides of her feet, the doctor made her way up the steps noiselessly and found his door ajar. There, she stood with her coat folded over one arm and the straps of her shoes dangling from her fingers. She could see him frantically lighting jar candles with one hand and grabbing for magazines strewn on the floor with the other, still wearing his coat. He turned to see Pepper straddling the couch and coffee table to help himself to old pizza crust. "Get outta there!" he hissed. The dog laid his ears back and hopped down, only to jump into a chair at the table and nose into a garbage bag that he'd left stuffed with paper cups and boxes and plastic silverware. Leslie had to laugh, and the dog stopped abruptly at the sound before barreling toward her and dancing around her on his hind legs, stump tail wagging furiously. Archie hastily kicked a Playboy out of sight and suddenly felt at a loss for words or action. It was as though she had just caught him with his pants down.
"Let things go a little since the last time I was here?"
Archie snatched the newly forgotten bag off of the table and pulled the strings closed at the top. Finished with his boisterous greeting, Pepper retreated into the apartment again and curled up in a chair while his master hurried over to take Leslie's coat. As he stared at her in the small dress, he seemed to forget what he was doing, where he was. "Um, do you want some coffee or some tea? Maybe um, a sandwich or-"
His voice caught in his throat as she slipped her hands into his pockets and pulled him close to her. His arms fell slack, her coat collapsing in a puddle at their ankles, and he leaned down to kiss her gently. "Just that," she said softly against his lips. She reached up and slid the coat from his shoulders, and he allowed it to tumble to the floor with hers. The two fell into a kiss deeper than the last. She could still taste mint on his lips. His beard grazed her chin and cheek, tickling her and causing her to lift up onto her tip-toes to avoid rubbing the whiskers. At the change in height, Archie wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss.
They stood in the heap of coats in the shadows of the apartment and couldn't have cared less about the time or the fact that he'd just spent the last twelve hours in the depths of a County holiday hell. For the time, they shrugged off the responsibilities and the burdens of their lives and just existed there with each other in the entryway of a cozy Chicago apartment on a dreary New Year's morning.
"Why don't we find you something a little, um, more comfortable?" he asked, sucking a breath from the side of her mouth to clear his head. She nodded and followed him to his bedroom. Their fingers were still woven together loosely, him guiding her. Morris reached into a drawer, fumbling in the dim light to find something thin, something a bit sexier than the old sweats she had usually borrowed. He produced an old button-down shirt with a small burn hole in the sleeve, laying it on the bed for her. As usual, he started to excuse himself to allow her privacy, but unlike usual, Leslie planted herself in front of him. Without a word, she lifted her arms above her head and locked eyes with him.
His mouth was suddenly dry, and it was difficult to swallow, difficult to breathe. Don't let her feel your hands tremble. Morris's eyes traveled to the hem of her dress and then back to the smoky green eyes, which also gazed down at the dress before coming back to rest on him. He wanted to savor this all and convince himself that it was really happening. The doctor's hands slipped down the satin over her curves as low as he could reach without stooping. At her mid-thigh, he gathered the fabric and pulled it over her head, letting the delicate dress drizzle to the floor. She stepped forward and pressed herself into him so that his arms instinctually closed around her. The skin that had always been some great mystery to him, hidden beneath t-shirts and scrubs and a hundred outfits was suddenly bare. It was softer than her cheek, smooth and warm.
He was aware of her nails trailing gently from the nape of his neck to the knot of his tie. Leslie slid behind him, reaching around for the tie again to loosen it and untie it. Morris watched her hands work at the top button in his dresser mirror and could feel her body against his back. Her lips were hot on his neck, slowly tracing a path to his earlobe. The slightest tug of her teeth caused him to gasp and turn on her quickly, scooping her into his arms and collapsing backwards onto his bed.
There, Leslie straddled Archie's lap, holding his face in her hands and pressing her lips to his. He'd wanted this- oh, he'd wanted this- but he was suddenly aware of her hands sliding down his neck to his shirt again. Damn. He realized that he'd never actually mentioned his… condition before and cursed himself. Most women had never noticed the nipples. Often, he'd gotten away with keeping his undershirt on, or they were simply both too drunk to care. But this time was different; it wasn't a random hookup, and Leslie hadn't a drop of alcohol in her blood. If she sees you're a freak, it'll be a dealbreaker. If he could only get the lights off or distract her… She was gently unbuttoning the third button when Archie's hands caught hers, entwining their fingers as she continued to kiss him. "You're not turning shy on me, are you?" she breathed coyly between kisses, her breath warm against his neck. The hair on his arms raised as he shuddered slightly from the chill it had sent through him. Leslie smiled and gently kissed him again. Archie let go of her fingers, and his arms now draped loosely around her waist. He could feel her hands resume roaming up his side.
He peeked out one eye to look for the lamp. It was possibly within reach. His fingers stretched out for the nob, but he couldn't quite get it, and his movement had caused her to sit back for a moment, eyeing him. "What? I just thought I would create a mood," he stuttered quickly.
"I know I'm no knockout, Archie. It's okay if you want the lights out," she murmured. He could only stare at her in disbelief. He ran his hands down the side of her body over a silky smooth strapless bra and hiphugger panties, squeezing her tightly and pulling her so close that he could feel her heart beat against his. He held her at arms length again, sliding his hands into hers. Morris had hoped that his actions would put her at ease and let her know just how powerfully beautiful she was to him, but she still seemed unsure of herself.
"Hey! Leslie, no. I think that you're gorgeous, and I want to know every inch of you. It's just…" Morris trailed. He took a deep breath. "I think you'd actually like the lights off," he finished in a somewhat dejected tone. At this, she cocked her head thoughtfully, momentarily distracted from her own self-consciousness.
"Why? Are you hairy?" she asked, wrinkling her nose playfully and poking him in the sides. Reflexively, his hands pushed hers away, and he shook his head. Her smile faded slightly. "A birth mark?" Again, he shook his head, his eyes lowered now to stare at her hands, watching her nervously tug at her thumbs. She hesitated, biting her lip before slowly leaning into him again, softly kissing him. Her hands had found their way back to his buttons and began working on the second one, gently pulling his shirt open, as the third button gave way.
She could feel him tense, not understanding why he was so afraid to let her near. It only made her want him more, but she couldn't help but think that maybe he didn't want her. Leslie pressed the thought back in her mind, focusing on the buttons. Once she had unbuttoned down to his pants, she gathered the shirt in one hand and pulled the final button to light, continuing to kiss him and cup his face with her other hand.
Feeling the air on his thin undershirt, he curiously opened his eyes, but Leslie's were still closed. Her hand was now reaching for the skin of his abdomen, snaking beneath the fabric. Her palm was warm and soft, and as it slowly began its ascent, Morris closed his eyes again. But she never moved, never paused, never drew in a breath in wonder or disgust. Summoning his courage, he reached for her bra, unsnapping it in one smooth motion. Wow. You did that like a pro. Wait, is she gonna think you do this a lot? Leslie pushed Archie's sleeves down, and he helped her by pulling his wrists loose from the cuffs. He shrugged out of his undershirt as she pulled the bottom up over his face between short kisses.
He suddenly realized that there was no more kissing and that her green eyes were watching him. Naked, exposed. All four nipples. Maybe she doesn't even notice. Are you blushing? You're kidding. How old are you? Then he noticed her body language. She was rubbing one of her arms, folding it into her lap so her hand rested on the opposite thigh. She glanced at his eyes, but quickly broke contact, staring sideways or to her lap before glancing up again. Leslie felt just as nervous as he did. It made sense; the only real relationship she'd had in years was with a professor, someone who'd used her. But why? How could anyone hurt her? She was so- "amazing," he whispered before inwardly grimacing that he'd said it out loud.
"What?" she asked, searching him. He swallowed before reaching forward to push some stray hair behind her ear. His hand lingered, pressing against one velvety cheek, his thumb caressing the line of her jaw.
"You're perfect," he told her softly. Her lips trembled for a moment, her eyes shining glassily. It had been the right thing to say. For once, the right words had just spilled out, and it hadn't even felt like a line. Leslie wasn't the thinnest or most toned girl he'd been with. She wasn't some pinup girl; she was, well, real. Warm and soft in his arms. She smelled like baby powder and strawberries. And she really was perfect.
Morris nuzzled and kissed her neck, running his fingers up her back and neck and into her hair. He could feel her arch into him, pressing her body against his. Her mouth was a million things; a million amazing things, none of which were registering coherently in his mind. He knew only that she was incredible and that his pants suddenly felt two sizes too small.
Leslie tightened her arms around Archie, letting his beard tickle her skin. He made her feel safe. For once, she felt good enough, but not as though she was settling. She'd known all along about the nipples; Pratt had told her one day when she'd mentioned going out to a piano bar with Morris after a shift. At first, she thought he'd been teasing, but sure, enough, she'd felt them beneath her hands tonight. She'd wondered in the back of her mind, on the chance that it was true, what would they look like? But in the moment, she'd barely noticed. It wasn't about his body; it was about him. The way he'd made her feel. He'd made her accept herself, even love herself. And if he could trust her with his imperfect body, she could trust him.
As he laid her gently on her back, burying his head into her hair and running his hands over her, it felt surreal. Like a moment that she'd always known in the back of her mind but was waiting to remember. The way it should be. The way it always should have been. Leslie turned her head to brush her nose against his cheek, causing him to turn his face to meet hers.
He was rocking a bit, trying to wriggle out of his pants. Leslie smiled, tugging at the thigh with her fingertips and the lower leg with her bare toes. He grunted in exasperation and freed his arm from beneath her to finally pull them loose, looking back at her to see her biting her lip and smiling. "That was supposed to work more like your bra," he told her. He was flushed, partially from the heat between them and partially from the embarrassment.
Goosebumps rose on his arms as her lips contacted his earlobe. "It's okay. You'll have plenty of time to get it right," she breathed, pulling the plug on the lamp and blanketing their bodies in darkness.
