I apologise for the wait with this chapter! My laptop died a truly spectacular death a couple of nights ago. I'm so sorry if I kept anyone waiting - worst possible chapter to happen with! I just want to say thank you very much to anyone who has been reading these chapters as they come – I feel very indebted to you. I can't express my appreciation enough for the lovely reviews, I really can't. Your generosity amazes me - thank you!

I'll pick him up today.

You will?

Yes. I want to go to the park after school.

Can't it wait until the weekend?

No. I want to tire him out for tonight.

Michelle stared at her phone on her desk for a long moment before the next message came through.

You're blushing.

She twisted in her seat, her gaze shooting to the window beside her. She looked down at the street, then at the building opposite, her eyes darting from side to side, trying to work out where he was. She gave up and tried to focus back on her work, but found she couldn't. She couldn't concentrate on anything. She felt anxious, she felt agitated. She felt a lot of things, most of which she couldn't properly indentify. There was a sort of constriction somewhere in her chest that was making it slightly difficult to breathe. She hadn't been with him for six years. Six years. While she was sure nothing had changed, she felt a looming sense of discomfort.

She'd never thought she'd have sex again. Honestly, she hadn't. After learning that Tony was dead, going on the run, having this child and trying to give it the best life possible, she'd felt no inclination to date. Ever. What point was there? How could she be with another man? How could she give herself over to some other person? She knew she'd never be able to enjoy another man's company, not when the memory of her beautiful husband lingered so poignantly in her life, not when she missed him so much everyday. Then, when she'd learned that he was alive and doing unspeakable things, things that repulsed her, her mindset changed. Maybe…maybe one day she could forget about him. She could come to terms with the fact that he was evil and off limits and she'd be able to move on. But even then, the idea had a sour feel to it, a strange, unpleasant flavor, and Michelle had resigned herself to the fact that she was a mother now and that was all. She would never be anything more to anyone.

But he was here. He was trying to redeem himself, trying to be good to their son, trying to explain himself to her…and she had missed him. How badly she had missed him. She had breathed him in last night when they'd embraced and he'd smelled exactly the way he always had. That hadn't changed. It had been so good she'd almost grown dizzy from it.

She stayed at work longer than usual. There wasn't any particular reason for that, and she was doing things that could easily be done tomorrow. Tasks and bookkeeping that just weren't very important. She didn't know why, but she felt intensely nervous, almost stressed at the prospect of the evening alone with Tony…and couldn't quite bring herself to go back to the apartment yet.

It was nearly six when another message registered on her phone.

Dinner's on the table.

She suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed, like a child who'd been caught doing something wrong. She didn't want Tony to think she was nervous, didn't want him to think she was afraid to be with him. They'd been married twice, for Christ's sake. What was there to be worried about?

I'm on my way.

To her relief, Mason was still awake when she got home.

'Good!' he said, coming to hug her as she put down her bag. 'I'm starving.'

'You haven't eaten yet?'

'Nope. Had to wait for you.'

Tony was standing by the table, watching her.

'Hey,' he said.

'Hey,' Michelle returned softly, not quite meeting his gaze as she putting Mason down. He ran to his chair.

'We're having mushroom spaghetti again!'

Michelle looked fleetingly at Tony, whose eyes were brazenly running the length of her figure. She swallowed uncomfortably, and went to take her seat. Tony moved to take his, and Michelle watched him from the corner of her eye. He did the same to her. They were both keenly aware of each other, more so than ever before.

'How was your day?' Tony asked, as Mason ploughed into his dinner between them.

Michelle looked up at him, suddenly realizing how small the dinner table was. Tony was a mere few feet away.

'Fine,' she said, glad to hear her was voice was level.

'Busy?'

'Not really.'

'Why so late then?'

'Oh…well, I mean, it was busy, just not crazy. I…I had a few things to finish up.'

She glanced at him. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but didn't. She returned to her food.

Mason was chattering on about school and Tony was listening closely, asking him questions and every few minutes casting Michelle a long, wanting look. Then, before Michelle even knew it, Mason was finished. He kissed her cheek and let Tony take him to bed and Michelle listened to them chuckle away together in his room for a little while, reading books and being generally silly.

She got to her feet, annoyed to see her fingers trembling slightly, and cleared away the things from dinner. She ran the water and started the dishes, and didn't hear the conversation between her son and husband lull, or hear the door close, or hear Tony as he came up behind her.

She jumped slightly when she felt his body make contact with hers, bearing down against her lightly, trapping her against the sink, his hands resting on her hips in an overwhelmingly possessive gesture. It was one that used to thrill her, one that used to send her into a flurry of desire. Right now, it made it difficult to breathe.

'Is Mason –?'

'Asleep,' he said shortly.

She felt his nose against her hair, felt him draw her even further to him, his body hard against her soft one. His fingers had starting moving, climbing up along her waist, feather-light against the fabric of her suit. She shuddered, and resisted the urge to make her feelings known to him by letting out a sigh or a moan or something equally as embarrassing. He was only touching her, after all, and not even in a way that would normally solicit a verbal confirmation of her pleasure. His had stood behind her and gripped her body to his thousands of times before…but it had been six years since then. Six very long years.

'Tony,' she murmured. 'Just…just let me dry my hands…'

'No,' he instructed into her ear, his voice crude and laden with need. 'No. Finish that.'

She frowned at the sink, and felt his hands tightened ever so slightly around her. She knew she was trembling, and she knew he could feel it.

'I…a-alright,' she stammered. Her hands returned to the dish she was washing, and she felt his chin rest upon her shoulder, watching her hands as they moved in the water.

'You're nervous,' he observed. As he said it his hold on her tightened once more. She could feel him, hard against her already. She swallowed, feeling as though flames were creeping up her chest, over her neck and spilling onto her face. Her heart felt as though it was bumping around in her chest, as though trying to escape.

'I-I'm not,' she said, her voice small.

Tony scrutinised her hands again. She willed them to stop shaking, to be calm, as she rinsed some cutlery, but to no avail.

'You are,' he said, his voice little more than a gravelly whisper against her. His thumbs began making slow strokes against her hips. 'Why?'

She didn't answer him and concentrated on placing a plate as steadily as possible on the nearby drying rack.

'We're taking this slow,' Tony informed her when he received no response. 'It's been six years. Tonight is going to happen gradually, understand? Bit by bit.'

She swallowed when she felt his hands leave their place on her hips and trail up her back, moving as though he was the owner of those parts of her body. His hands cupped her neck for a moment before she felt his fingers delve into her hair. He found the pins holding her abundant curls in place and, one by one, gently pulled them free. It was agonizing. Each tender tug of her hair felt exquisite, each time his fingers brushed against her head she felt her breath catch. To be like this, in his grasp…she couldn't understand it, couldn't address it, couldn't put a label on it. She'd thought, for so long, that he was gone.

Tony gathered most of her curls, now free and hanging loose, in his hands and scrunched them lovingly between his fingers. He brought the messy bunch to his face and breathed in deeply, totally unconcerned as to how Michelle reacted. This action seemed a necessity to him, something non-negotiable, something he had to do. They both knew she had no say in this.

He exhaled against her neck, a dark, rumbling, hungry sound, his breath searing hot.

'Fuck,' he said to himself, as though the smell of her hair had pushed him over some sort of personal threshold. He continued to breathe her in, his hands finding purchase on her shoulders, where he dug gently into the material between his skin and hers, massaging her as he took in her scent again and again.

With all his movements, Michelle had quite forgotten about the sink until he peered down over her shoulder once more.

'You haven't finished the dishes,' he notified her. 'Finish them.'

Biting down on her lip, Michelle rinsed off the last plate, feeling weak and dizzy. Chills were running down her spine without respite, as soon as one fell away another one started. She put the plate on the drying rack, and the last of the cutlery, and fished around in the soapsuds for anything she might have missed. She was just realising that she'd done them all when Tony's hands shot out to grip her wrists, holding them still in the warm water. He reached across to the counter, took up a hand towel, and pulled one of her hands out into the cool air. He pressed her skin to the towel firmly, wrapped her fingers with it, slowly, excruciatingly, dried each tiny bit of sodden skin. He repeated the process with her another hand, watching himself work over her shoulder, his face pressed to her cheek.

Michelle gazed down alongside him, his hands easily enveloping hers. She knew exactly what he was doing, exactly what this was about. As soon as he'd shot out to snatch her wrists she'd known. He'd always had a love affair with her hands. He'd spent hours lying in bed with her, clutching her hands in his, stroking them, holding them to his mouth, to his chest, making low, guttural comments about how little they were, how delicate, how soft, taking time to kiss and gently suck each finger, his tongue running so slowly along their length. Whenever she took him in her hands it drove him wild. He loved to watch her caress him, loved to watch her stroke him, adored the sight of her perfect, pale fingers wrapped around him. There were few things that turned him on more.

And now, her hands were caged within his, as though he was trying to protect them, as though trying to keep them all to himself forever. The moment they were properly dry, he took her right hand up to his mouth, his lips against her palm. She quivered against him, feeling a thousand, passionate memories flood back to her.

'I've missed you,' he told her, his voice weighed down with raw, unbridled emotion 'Fuck, I've missed you so much.'

He moved them away from the sink, and took her to the couch. He sat down and pulled her down with him so that they were facing each other, their legs entwined, their faces inches apart. He took her hands in his and placed them on his chest.

'Hey,' he said, when he found her staring determinedly at her fingers. 'Look at me.'

She did. He moved in to hold her face, his thumbs brushing the smooth skin beneath her eyes. He looked hard at her, trying to find the reason for her apprehension in her gaze. When he couldn't find what he was looking for, he drew her closer, took a fist full of her hair and used it to turn her head to the side. He pressed his mouth to her cheek, and heard her suck in a jittery breath.

'I've been thinking about our first time a lot lately,' he informed her, his mouth still against her skin. 'You ever think about it?'

Michelle closed her eyes, annoyed at him for dredging up one of her sweetest, most treasured memories. She loved it, but she always looked on it with mild embarrassment. Tony knew that, and she watched him pull back and gaze at her. His eyes dropped to her chest, a small amount of it visible about her blouse, where he knew he'd find a self-conscious blush spreading. He gave her a small, satisfied grin.

'We were like teenagers,' Michelle muttered, her fingers beginning to move slightly against his chest. He closed his eyes, looking as though this small movement was almost too much for him to take just yet. His hand went to her waist, holding it tightly, bringing her closer to him.

'We were on the couch, just like this,' he murmured. 'We'd just come home from that restaurant.'

'Worst food ever,' Michelle whispered.

'Well, how was I to know that?'

'You should have done some research, instead of taking me out to whatever was closest.'

'Yeah, well,' Tony said. 'It wasn't exactly a well planned date.'

Michelle felt herself smiling at him. He took it in, his face hard, his eyes hot. Their first date had been the day after the nuclear bomb threat. They'd barely slept; they'd barely had time to process all that had happened, they'd barely even pulled themselves out of the clothes they'd worn. All they knew was that they wanted each other, wanted to see each other, wanted to talk and look at each other and let time pass in each other's company.

He'd rung her, barely eight hours after they'd left each others sight. She hadn't been shocked by it, in fact, she'd been waiting for it and they'd agreed to have dinner. He'd picked her up less than an hour later, they went to the place, they suffered through fairly poor food, and then he'd taken her back to her apartment.

They'd stood together at her door, for the first time in a state of completely uncertainty and awkwardness.

'You took forever to decide if you were going to kiss me or not,' Michelle reminded him. Her fingers continued their very gentle caress across his chest.

'Was kinda hoping you'd just do it again for me,' he said.

'It was your turn.'

'Yeah, so you told me.'

They both seemed to realise at the same moment that they were tangled up in each others arms, looking at each other, murmuring together over memories. Tony dragged her slightly closer still.

'Then you asked me in,' he said, his breath on her jaw, pushing a curl from her face and tucking it lovingly behind her ear. She closed her eyes at the gesture.

'You invited yourself in,' she corrected him.

She was mostly right. He had leaned it, he had taken her face in his hands and he'd kissed her. She'd been delighted, thrilled, hungry for him, and had pulled him closer. She'd opened her mouth, she'd given him his first taste of her tongue. It had done something to him, something serious. The delicious, wet, soft feel of each others mouths moving together had done something to her too. She'd thought about it. She'd lain awake in bed thinking about him, his mouth, his hands, his eyes. It had been a very fantastical sort of crush. She had not really thought she'd ever get to kiss him or get to know him, and he'd been the same. He'd always thought he'd stay away, that she would too, that they had nothing much in common except liking the look of each other. They had thought about each other, but they'd never thought it would actually happen. It had taken a nuclear bomb to make it a reality.

'The moment you bit my lip you invited me in,' he told her, his hands running up and down her sides.

There. There was the blush again, creeping along her chest.

'I did it on purpose,' she said haughtily. 'I thought it was sexy.'

'Uh-huh,' he hummed against her cheek, where his lips were resting once more. 'I've always maintained that you did it by accident, that you were just nervous. Why else would you have done it so hard?'

'It wasn't hard at all,' she said. 'You're making this up.'

'Nearly drew blood.'

'You loved it.'

'I did,' he said, suddenly looking serious. 'It hurt, but it was the hottest thing I'd ever had happen to me.'

'I still don't understand that, but alright.'

His eyes danced across her face. She was grinning. Almost. Not quite, but her eyes were ablaze and her perfect lips curled and he felt a surge of yearning sweep through him. He'd made her smile. He wanted to keep making her smile. He loved her.

'All bets were off when you bit me,' he breathed against her. 'It sent me insane. All I could do was get closer to you, to get more of you. I wanted you to make more mistakes like that, and I wanted you to make them with no one but me.'

'It wasn't a mistake! I knew exactly what I was doing.'

'Uh-huh. Anyway, you climbed into my lap. You straddled me, almost the second we were on your couch.'

'You pulled me on top of you. You practically hurled me across you.'

'Yeah, that might be true…but you were asking for it.'

'You had your arms around my waist, pinning me against you. You didn't even give me the time to take off my shoes.'

'Something like this, right?'

He lifted her from the couch and lowered her down so she was astride him, kneeling above him, looking down at his face.

'And you held my face,' he said. 'Your hands…one on my neck, the other on my cheek and you kissed me.'

'You kissed me.'

He moved her closer so that their foreheads were touching gently.

'But then you started that little routine, remember? You started talking about what had happened between us during the nuke day.'

'Oh god. I knew you were going to bring this up. Do we have to talk about it?'

'Yes.'

'You know, I just…I just thought that what you wanted to do for me was sweet…and I wanted to tell you that. After I'd gone behind your back, after I'd lied about helping Jack, you were still going to take the fall for me with Chapelle…I just wanted you to know that I appreciated it. Not many people would've been so generous.'

'You thought it was the most romantic thing,' he teased, his fingers moving quickly against her ribcage, not quite a tickle, but close to it.

'I didn't say that,' Michelle told him.

'No, but the way you kissed me as you thanked me…I could tell. And you were blushing. You thought it was romantic.'

'It was romantic,' she said.

'Yeah,' he agreed. 'That's why I did it.'

'No, it wasn't,' she said. 'You know it wasn't.'

'No?'

'No,' she said quietly. 'You did it because you loved me.'

His eyes left hers, trailing down her face, resting for a moment on her chest. The blush had vanished.

'I did,' he said. 'Even then.'

He looked back at her and she knew instantly that the light hearted mood was over. She knew he'd brought up their first night together to relax her. So they could tease each other and giggle over how young they'd been, how worried they were over what each other was thinking, worried that they should harness their passion, afraid to frighten each other off. They hadn't though. They hadn't held back at all.

'Come,' he said. He got to his feet, holding her up in his arms and carried her toward her bedroom. He closed the door behind them and placed her back on her feet. He sat on the edge of her bed, watching her.

'Take your blazer off,' he instructed. He was watching her with a predatory sort of look, one she'd seen a million times, only this time it was heightened. This time it was starving, deliriously hungry, almost scary.

She swallowed.

'Why don't you?' she asked.

He shook his head.

'You're going to do it.'

She chewed her top lip for a moment before her unsteady hands went to the button just below her breasts. She shrugged the blazer off her shoulders.

'Slowly,' he told her.

She glared at him. He stared comfortably back.

She was left in her blouse, skirt and stockings, and though she knew he expected her to remove them as well, her hands went up to her ears first. She fumbled to remove her earrings, first the left, then the right, and she placed them on her chest of drawers.

'You know,' Tony mused softly as her fingers went to the buttons down her blouse. His eyes did not leave her hands for a moment. 'That night, on your couch with you after that awful food…if someone had told me then that one day you'd give me a son…'

Michelle's fingers left her blouse. It was undone, hanging from her shoulders, her bra and stomach exposed.

Tony shook his head, looking overcome.

'If someone had told me we would have Mason, that we would have to get married twice, that I'd almost lose you so many times…or that I'd spend six years living with the belief that they'd killed you and burned your body into ash….'

Michelle watched his face closely. She took a few steps forward, standing in front of him, her hands going to his shoulders. He reached up to touch her forearm, almost to reaffirm that she was actually there.

'I mean…we were just messing around on your couch. We were just trying not to fuck things up with each other before we even got a chance to figure each other out. We were just trying to get close to each other. Nothing more than that. The idea of marrying you, the thought of losing you, the concept of having a child with you did not come into my mind once…all I could think about was your mouth against mine, all I could think about was getting you out of your clothes so I could see you for the first time.'

'It was our first date,' Michelle murmured. 'How were we possibly meant to know what was going to happen? Why would we have thought about any of that, or tried to predict it?'

'I don't know,' Tony said, his hand coming up to rest against the pale skin of her stomach. He found very faint stretch marks there, left over from her pregnancy. He smiled crookedly at them, and leaned forward to touch his mouth to them. He felt her fingers tighten in his hair.

As his mouth assaulted her abdomen, his hands went up to push the blouse from her shoulders. He dragged it from her arms and tossed it aside. He tugged her closer to him, his mouth moving up to greet her cleavage, his tongue coming up to trail a moist line up over the swell of her right breast. She gasped at the sensation, wrapped her arms around him tightly as she felt his fingers creep up her back, going to the clasp holding the bra secure. He undid it and pushed it away and suddenly she was bare in his arms. He looked her over, but only for a split second before he drew a nipple into his mouth, biting at it, dabbing his tongue across it to soothe it from the slight sting of his teeth. Her other breast was cupped roughly in his hand, his thumb flicking firmly over the peak. His breath was boiling against her skin.

'Tony,' she said breathlessly. She felt desire pool between her legs, felt currents of liquid warmth rush through her, felt her chest rise and fall, her breaths growing in rapidity. 'Tony, please…'

'Be patient!' he ordered her harshly, pushing her hands away from him. He seemed to be ordering himself too. He spun her around suddenly and unzipped her skirt. He made her step out of it and then turned her back to him.

'I want this to last,' he rasped against her bare flesh. He stood up suddenly and threw off his shirt. His hands flew to his belt buckle, but he stopped when he felt Michelle's fingers against his skin.

'Wait,' she urged him quietly. She stepped closer, as close as she could get, her head bowed, her eyes and hands on his chest, her fingers combing lightly through the hair there.

He knew he was scarred, just as she was, but she seemed to be expecting this. Her fingers trailed over the marks that had not been there the last time they'd made love. He groaned loudly when her lips fell to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands splayed across her back, holding her firm to him, hoping she wouldn't move her lips from him yet. At his response, she poked her tongue out from between her teeth and flicked it against him.

'Michelle,' he said warningly. He clutched her to him, so small in his arms.

'What?' she asked, her voice heavy with desire.

'Stop that.'

'No,' she said, and returned her tongue to cast a long, lengthy trail across him. Her hands ran down his stomach, her fingernails scratching against him lightly, and went to his belt buckle. In an instant it was gone, followed by his jeans. He stepped out of them and kicked them to join her skirt on the floor.

'Here,' he said, bringing her down to sit beside him. He left his place on the bed, knelt before her and removed her stockings. His hands ran down her legs and he lifted her right foot to his mouth. He placed a kiss in her bare arch and felt her toes curl against him. Her body was throbbing for him, begging for all of him.

He took her under the arms, much the way she always did to Mason, and lifted her to lie back on the bed, so her head was resting on the pillow. He rid himself of his boxers, removed her underwear so slowly she wasn't sure if it was pleasurable or painful, and then came up to lie beside her, slipping his arm beneath her so that her head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

'You know,' she said, reveling in the feel of his fingers dancing across her jaw. 'We haven't even kissed yet.'

'We kissed that night, after you told me about Mason's birth,' he said. 'I've been thinking about it all these months.'

'I know…but we haven't kissed properly. Not really.'

Suddenly his face was incredibly close to hers. They were taking the breath from each others mouths. She drew him in, their noses touching. Lightly, his lips reached hers and teased them apart. She moaned, struggling against herself so that she wouldn't pull him closer. He nibbled on her top lip, melded against her, finally fishing out her tongue and re-introducing his to it. Then, almost without thinking, Michelle bit down lightly on his bottom lip.

She almost didn't understand what happened next, almost couldn't fathom it. It happened so quickly. Tony was suddenly on top of her, his hands roaming wildly, his teeth biting down into her neck, raking brutally across her collarbone, his erection rock hard and warm against her leg. She reached down and touched him, held him firm, brushed her thumb against him and he gasped into her shoulder.

He swatted her hand and gave himself a couple of rough strokes before looking at her, his eyes searching her face. She allowed him to nudge her legs apart, felt him settle his weight against her, felt the tip of him nuzzle her entrance. He fingers reached down and delved within her, as though seeking out the measure of her arousal and then, with a force so jarring and so unexpected it was painful, he thrust inside her, sliding home with a sting and making no apologies for it. She gasped into his mouth, a sob of combined passion and hurt springing from her lips, and he wrenched her hand away from his face and held it against the pillow, his fingers entwined with hers as he slammed against her. The feel of him, hard, thick and heavy inside her, made her feel full for the first time in six years.

They didn't kiss. They didn't close their eyes. Their faces were so close together they could see nothing but each other and she joined him in his alarmingly severe rhythm. He was breathing out in grunts, short, sharp furious sounds that came out against her mouth and she was moaning, breathless, longing whispers into his face.

'More,' she heard herself request. 'Harder…more…please.'

He made an aggressive sound of abandon into her neck and let loose, his movements frantic, rough, mean against her. Each upstroke had more power behind it then the last and he knew he was hurting her. Each time she was impaled to the hilt her face flinched slightly, but only slightly, because she never wanted him to know there was anything more than pleasure at work inside her.

'Baby,' he gritted out. He watched a bead of sweat mingle with a curl by her ear. 'Baby, we gotta slow down.'

'No,' she said frantically. Her voice betrayed a hint of panic, her nails digging into the muscles in his back. 'No…please.'

He nodded and drew her legs up, changing their angle and watching her eyes roll back in her head. It drove her wild. He knew she loved it, knew his altered approach increased the weight of him inside her, knew he was crashing against her in a way that could, if he kept it up, send her spiraling out of control. He cupped her thigh gently, wanting to hold her in some way that was loving, feeling a little guilty about his current treatment of her body, but she grasped at his back, egging him on, and all he could do was plant clumsy kissed upon any part of her he could reach, knowing that she'd be very sore soon after this, but also knowing that he'd take care of her when she was.

'Oh god,' she moaned urgently. 'Keep going. Come on…I'm so close.'

'I know,' he said, and he did know. He knew exactly how long it took to get her to reach her peak, exactly how to get her there, the exact shade of the pink that spread across her neck just before she came.

All it took was a fractional increase in their already dire, violent pounding to elicit a heavenly shout from her lips. He felt her tighten around him, felt her legs and arms surround him, heard his name uttered pleadingly against his throat again and again as she came back down to him. This was enough to hurl him into completion alongside her, and he threw his head down against her shoulder and let out an unrestrained roar of pleasure as he furiously spilled himself deep inside her.

He collapsed against her completely, feeling her perspiration mix with his, feeling himself slowly grow limp within her. He ran his hands down her sides, kissed along the top of her breasts, told her, again and again, how he loved her, how he missed her, how he had no life when he'd thought she been dead and how she'd given him everything just because she was still on this earth.

Michelle lay very still, feeling his weight overwhelm her. She didn't mind it…in fact, she used to like this moment almost more than anything else. She was trapped beneath him, protected, given over to him. It felt wonderful to her.

Tony was making lazy movements against her. She thought perhaps he'd become emotional, just as she was, but he was trying to hide it from her.

'Mine,' he was saying softly. His hands trailed up her neck. 'You're mine.'

His fingers brushed across her mouth and trailed the outline of her lips and she went to smile…before a thought hit her. A terrible thought. A thought she couldn't push away.

He'd suffocated an FBI agent. She knew that. He hadn't shot him, or conspired against him, or had him blown up…he'd suffocated him. He'd looked into his eyes, just as he was looking into hers, and he'd covered his mouth and let him struggle for air until he died. He would have used the same hand against that man's mouth that he was using against hers now. The same hand that was so tenderly tracing her lips now had once refused air from the lips of an innocent agent. A man who had trusted him. A man who had dedicated his life to protecting the citizens of their country. That man had been suffocated by her husband in her name. He'd been one of the casualties of her husband's need to avenge her. The hand that had stolen the life from that man was resting against her chin right now, holding her close, adoring her mouth…and she suddenly felt sick.

She rolled out from under him.

'Hey,' he said, startled. 'Come here.'

He looked hurt. He looked confused. His arms reached for her, needing to draw her back in to him.

'No,' she said, getting up and finding her robe. She pulled it around her. 'No. You need to leave. You…you need to get out.'

She moved toward her bathroom and locked herself in.

X