"We can touch each other now, Sara..."

His own words echo in his ears as he watches her body writhe
across the bed, muscles flexing, skin sheened with sweat. She
whimpers low in her throat as the Witchblade climbs higher up her
thighs.

It's been a long time since he's seen her like that, and he
misses it. He misses the way she sounds, the way she tastes, the
way she digs her blunt nails into his back as she comes.

And he hates himself as he prays for her to fail so he can touch
her forever.