Disclaimer: Don't own anything. I'm poor, etc.

Summary: Rory Gilmore has been running her grandfather's publishing house for a year now. She is surprised when she gets a phone call by her mother's ex-boyfriend Luke who asks her a certain favor. Starting from there, her life starts to alter rapidly. AU

A/N: You wouldn't be reading this, if it weren't for LitLove, who inspired it, and especially for my INCREDIBLY GORGEOUS beta - Ara May, who has been supporting it all along. THANK YOU, LADIES:)

'Temperatures are running low tonight, so be prepared to spend the weekend at home. Heavy snowfalls are to be expected in the next twenty-four hours. Did you prepare your car for tough weather? Now, Mr Doose is here to give us a couple of useful tips on winter driving. Stay with Waves of Stars Hollow late emission and learn all about...'

Late emission. At eight thirty.

Welcome to Stars Hollow.

Jess turned the radio off and clicked his tongue.

'Nah, last time I was around, driving through snow was among Top of the Tops in Taylor's Stars Hollow Ban List. Guy must be feeling adventurous these days,' he smirked.

He turned to give Rory a brief glance. She had been keeping silent since the moment they passed by the Welcome to Stars Hollow sign. He checked her face. Staring out of the window, her expression was blank. Stoically blank. The kind of blankness you refuse to fill, shut it up, bottle it in, keep a straight face when you're actually cringing. He wasn't aware what it actually looked like until he read it over her face, but he knew exactly what it felt like. This expression he would've recognized miles away, the way he would discern good from filthy literature after reading only a paragraph. Sometimes less.

Taking a ride through Stars Hollow, you were never alone. There were always one too many memories to keep you company.

He looked ahead again. It was getting dark and rare raindrops were falling against the windscreen, making Jess smirk at the thought of Taylor's most likely words at this very moment, something like 'Citizens of Stars Hollow, at every turn, Holy Mother Nature makes sure to remind us that whenever we try to violate Her divine rules, we are doomed to failure. Today is no exception...' etc. etc.

Geez, how had he managed to spend almost two years of his conscious life in this creepy joke of a town, pretty much worth a whole Poe short story?

He steered the Chevy towards the Gilmore house.

Rory stepped out onto the muddy lawn, her eyes steadily fixed on the house.

Jess locked the car and climbed on the sidewalk, hands in pockets, trying not to stare. He would've hated it, roles switched, had someone violated his privacy in a moment like this. Not that he had ever been the kind of guy to hold a bunch of special sacred memories truly dear to his heart to return to. No, he had developed a certain spite for all those emotional commitments to places you've been, people you've met. People were people and places were places. Period.

Well, at least most of them were.

Jess scratched the back of his neck and looked up. The rare raindrops had turned into snowflakes, tiny and lazy to fall against the ground and fast to melt as soon as they touched it.

Rory started walking towards the porch, a bit unsteadily at first, but gaining confidence in each step. He followed.

'I think we have a winner.'

'We do? Really? Gosh, I'm really excited. I'm Twin Peaks kind of excited. No, wait, that means I'm a little scared, too, but I am. Oh boy, my baby's not a baby anymore, and I'm scared, I'm super scared. And excited. But more scared. I think I'll have a seat.'

'Mom. You're hyperventilating.'

'Me? Never. Have you ever known me to overreact?'

'Mom, I think it's Yale.'

'Wow.'

'Good 'wow' or bad 'wow'?'

'Is this what you want, hon?'

'Yes.'

'You sure about it?'

'Yes!'

'One hundred percent sure?'

'Yes!'

'Then it's a good 'wow', sweets, it's a big, neon flashing, thickly highlighted 'WOW' with music playing and tiny little angelic figures dancing at the base. I'm so proud of you, grasshopper.'

He knew his way around the house. She could tell. The way he took the spare key from its place under the flowerpot on the porch, the easy movement of his hand as he reached for the corridor light. He had been here before. More than once.

She looked around the living room. Except for the sheets spread wide over the furniture, you wouldn't tell that no one had entered this house for seven years. Because someone had.

She turned to look at Jess and he lowered his eyes a little.

'Luke. Once a month, makes sure it's all right around here,' he trailed off, not really sure how much he was supposed to tell. Spider web and leaking tap jokes seemed very, very out of place right now.

'Will you wait for me outside?' she asked in a polite but cold tone. A tone that supposed submission. Managing director Gilmore, nice to meet you.

Jess' eyes shifted between her and the living room once more before he gave her a nod.

'Sure.'

On his way out he slowed pace but decided against looking back. It was none of his business.

He was smoking on the porch, elbows resting on the wooden rail as he watched snowflakes whirl and pile over his ancient Chevy.

The car was kept together only by an old habit, but he'd well cut his own arm before even thinking of selling it. It was his first (and only) car, first (and maybe only) thing he had achieved all by himself.

He had written a book, then. He had done as much. Luke's book, as it appeared in his mind. It was an unspoken debt he covered, writing this. Words he would never master the courage to say out loud. Details he would never admit he had noticed. Acknowledgement Luke would never ask for. But he had been there. All that time. Watching. Listening.

'You know what? I'm done. I'm outta here.'

'Oh, really? And where are you gonna go, Braveheart?'

'Wherever.'

'Yeah? Doing what, exactly?'

'Whatever.'

'Sounds like a great plan to me.'

'Jeez, has it ever occurred to you that not everyone has to have a grandiose life plan to follow? That some of us maybe just don't care about running around, fixing leaking roofs in people's houses? You're living with this illusion that everything can be fixed, but guess what - it can't. Some things just can't be fixed, and the more you push, the worse they get.'

'You mean you can't be fixed.'

'I mean she's not coming back, Luke. You can fix her roof as much as you can, she's not...'

Slap!

Pause.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

'You know what? You're right. She's not coming back. She went out for a ride, it had been snowing, the road was frosted and the truck brakes didn't catch. She's not coming back. She didn't have a choice. You do. I'm offering you to help you fix your mess, as long as you keep trying to fix it. You made a start but you're so sure you're not worth it, you've been running around telling me I'm wasting my time. Are you wasting my time, Jess? Are you?'

Silence. Breathe in. Breathe out.

'Good... And, Jess? There is ice under the sink.'

He was torn out of his contemplation by the sound of a door opening. He turned back to get a glimpse of her profile as she left the front door open before disappearing back into the house. Not a word. Definitely not an invitation to come on and get in, but, some semblance of a permission.

If you insist.

He finished his smoke and put it out in the snow before he entered the house.

'Here,' she brought a pile of blankets and dropped them over the sofa. 'I'm taking the sofa, you're taking the cot.'

'Am I?' he quirked an eyebrow. 'Very hospitable.'

Rory shrugged while stretching the camp bed, fighting one of the bed-springs in the process.

'Jeez,' he let out an amused chuckle as he watched her pant over the bed frame. 'I should've brought pop tarts,' he added, doing nothing to escape the annihilating look she gave him.

'Move,' he leaned next to her, taking the bed frame from her hands.

She was taken by surprise by the patronizing undertone of his voice and hesitated for a moment, holding on to the bed. A mixture of cigarettes, his cologne and the close proximity of his body made her almost jump away mere seconds later.

'Here,' he moved his hand in an inviting gesture, 'your boudoir is awaiting.'

'Your boudoir, actually,' she corrected and let herself a self-content smile while dragging a heater between the sofa and the camp bed.

'Huh.'

He smirked and helped her carry the heater the rest of the way. Her nose wrinkled in irritation.

'I've got it.'

His smirk grew wider and he quirked an eyebrow.

'Do you ever accept help?' he asked, clearly amused.

'It never pays off,' she shrugged curtly and started spreading the blankets over the sofa.

Jess watched her for another moment before following suit and starting to make his own bed.

Rory turned around, her attention drawn by the muffled sound of a body shifting. She switched the night lamp on, presuming Jess had woken up, but when she looked at him, he was lying on his back and his eyes were still closed. He stirred again. He was dreaming.

She swung her feet over the sofa and leaned forward on her palms, studying his face.

Eyes closed, Jess' features looked softer. Her gaze paused over the two-day stubble over his chin. Normally, in the office, she would always tease him for not caring to join the civilized world by shaving on a regular basis, while in fact she was lying. She thought it suited him. She liked how it suited him. Which might well have been the initial reason why she wanted him to shave it off right away.

His arm moved to rest over his abs while the other one was lying over his thigh, slightly flexed at the elbow.

Rory smiled, finding this to be the kind of endearing cliche that somehow always gets to you, no matter how sleazy you believe it actually is, watching someone sleep. Of course, some people considered it creepy. For a good reason, that was.

His face shifted. Then again. Fast, like different emotions competing over his features, he went from off to on. His mind wasn't resting. It was speeding.

He was having a dream, the kind of dreams you live through.

His face started shifting in all those emotions she never thought would play over his features while awake, so expressive and easy to read. First, he was talking to - no, listening to someone. Then he winced and the way his face changed made her think of a young boy crying. She carefully moved to kneel down next to the camp bed. His face had adopted an expression of deep concentration that somehow felt out of place.

For some reason it occurred to her that he might be reliving a memory.

Before she had realized, she was moving her hand, her palm finding his cheek, gently cupping halfway his face. Surprised at her own reaction, Rory froze for a second, fearing he might wake up, but he didn't. His features started to gradually relax against her palm, slightly grazing her skin in the process, and so did Rory, feeling some strange nuance of pride at the effect she had produced.

'We are so proud of you, dear! Another Gilmore in Yale.'

'Actually, it's gonna be Harvard Kennedy.'

'But, darling, I thought you picked Yale.'

'Nope.'

'Rory, are you sure? Last time we spoke about this, your mom said...'

'Richard...'

'I'm sure, grandpa.'

'But Harvard is twice as far and...'

'It's gonna be Harvard, grandpa.'

'Oh. Okay, dear.'

Rory woke up in semi darkness. She got off the bed and went next to the window.

Big snowflakes were piling against the windowsill. Her hand rested over the back of chair beside her, enjoying the cold glazed surface of the wood as her fingertips drew a line along the rail.

She felt something move behind her. He had woken up. She waited.

His hand rested on the chair top-rail, next to hers. Close but not enough to touch. A lingering presence.

You're dreaming...
Or at least you've got your eyes closed

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. Cigarettes, cologne and something she couldn't define but felt distinctly. Maybe the warmth his body emitted. Or the radiance of his gaze upon her back, making electricity run down her spine and then spread all the way to her toes.

And this dormant love you've built inside your stubborn ways,
Well its begging now, for air...

She knew it was her decision to make. He had left it to her to choose if she wanted this to mean anything, if she wanted it to be anything. She had this decided for some time now, she realized. But the decision had been lying buried down under layers of pride and fear, waiting for a chance to emerge.

Her hand inched closer, a finger landing timidly over his thumb. She could feel him stiffen and then relax behind her before he stepped closer, his fingers intertwining with hers.

You pull back (pull back) and you angle towards the window...
Now the rain is crashing down,
And oh my god, you're beautiful...

His palm was warm against the back of her hand and it conducted some kind of relief. She couldn't name the exact reason for that, maybe it was simply the fact that holding hands felt nice and neither of them had turned into ashes. Yet.

He reached for her right hand, as well, lacing their fingers together, then brought it around her, mirroring the gesture with the left, so that their hands were embracing her on both sides now. Rory let herself relax back against his chest, feeling a bit lightheaded, sensing the warmth of her own palms against her abs, her fingers covered by his.

She felt the shift of his chest as he breathed in. His breath was slower, deeper, this time. Taking the scent of her hair in and keeping it for a while. She smiled. This naive, unconscious gesture made her think of a shy dark-haired boy, trying to savor the moment, and this thought made her bolder. She turned around in his embrace and reached for his elbow, drawing him closer as her lips brushed his.

And I'm so unsated, still I pray you'll hold back your escape...

It took him a moment to respond and lift his palm against her cheek, trying to hold on to her as if that would make the moment last. She smiled into the kiss and pressed herself flush against his chest, suddenly impatient to get closer.

And in my mind these bends could be steered straight...

Her palms sneaked under the cotton of his tee and hungrily explored the taut skin underneath, enjoying the way his muscles shifted under her touch.

A knot in her chest untied, while a dozen in his stomach tied up.

He turned them around, steering her backwards until her back hit the wall. She let out a delighted whimper.

'Rory...' his voice sounded distant through a blissful haze.

'Mmm,' she purred, her thumbs hooking over the waistband of his jeans, pulling him closer.

'Rory, wake up.'

She opened her eyes, squinting into the light, suddenly feeling as if she had been taken out of a hot tub and thrown into ice. Jess was leaning over her, his expression an uncharacteristic mixture of confusion and concern.

'You were dreaming,' he explained shortly, meeting her baffled eyes as he continued to study her face.

What?. But you were... and we were... Oooh booy.

Rory rubbed her eyelids with thumb and forefinger.

'Can you turn down the light? Or are you planning on making me blind or something?'

'Huh,' he huffed, regaining his usual nonchalant demeanor, and stood up to turn off the light.

She doesn't like being helped. Checked.

'You were making those strange noises,' he explained before switching the light off. 'I thought you were having a nightmare,' he shook his head and lay back on the camp bed.

She stared at his outline, fighting the haze in her own head.

A nightmare. Sure. Wanna bet?

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, fixing his back. He had turned to the side, pulling the end of the blanket over his head in a 'you're nuts, I'm taking some sleep' kind of body language message. In a while his breathing evened and she let herself think things over, feeling free to reflect upon them now that he was asleep, as if he would be able to hear her thoughts out loud if he kept awake.

She licked a lip as she thought about the way his skin felt against hers in the dream, feeling a certain amount of anger towards him for waking her up. Whoa, whoa there, hold on... what?.

Heck, Gilmore, what's gotten into you?

'You know, if someone had told me that this rebellious hoodlum had the remotest chance of becoming a decent man, I would have never believed them,' Luke said while emptying a coffee machine filter into the trashcan under the sink.

Rory smiled and her eyes paused over Jess' profile while he was taking down an order. He had sneaked the writing pad out of Luke's hands almost forcefully as soon as they were over with the 'It's good to see you, man, look who's here to see you' part and he spotted the uneasy exchange of looks between Rory and Luke. He wasn't helping Luke out in the diner. He was giving them privacy.

'I would,' she said more to herself than to Luke.

Luke's eyes shifted between the young woman before him and his nephew. Once. Twice.

'Rory, what exactly is your relationship with Jess?' he asked carefully, waiting for her reaction.

She blinked, eyelashes batting over innocent blue.

'We're colleagues,' she delivered effortlessly. 'Why?'

Luke threw another glance towards the dark-haired man who was now talking animatedly to Caesar, obviously trying to get the older man to do something he refused to.

Luke sighed and nodded once.

'Whatever it is between you and him, just... be easy on him, okay?'

'Luke, we're not dating,' she let out a small dismissive laugh. Really? Did it look like that? Like they were dating or something?

Huh, well, having sweaty dreams with a guy you've recently kissed could probably classify as 'or something'...

Luke watched her for some time before he put the coffee filter away and wiped his hands in the cloth flipped over his shoulder. Then he laid both palms over the counter, trying to gather his thoughts.

'Back in those high school years, Jess was a mess,' he said and let out a sigh.

Rory's brows inched up.

'He was angry with the whole world and took good care to express it in each and every possible way,' Luke continued with a small smile. 'He hated this place. He was about to leave like a million times,' he shook his head. 'And he did. Once. He got flunked out of school, we had a fight and he left. But then, couple of days later, he called and Caesar told him I didn't open the diner the next day. Or any other day since he left. He came back the other day, babbling something about Wal-Mart being highly overrated, running out of money and needing the job at the diner anyway.'

Rory swallowed uncomfortably and lowered her eyes.

'Back in those times, I was bad. Pretty bad.'

For some unknown reason, she felt ashamed. She felt like she had betrayed Luke's trust in some way. And it had nothing to do with Jess. She had given him up. The way she had tried to erase her whole life until that early February turning point, she had tried to erase the only man who had ever been a father to her. Because he had been grieving and she refused to. And his grief had just been another reminder of happiness that was now far away.

'Somehow, him coming to Stars Hollow had made me pull myself back together. He came back because he knew I needed him,' Luke finished, studying her face.

Rory snapped out of her self-contemplation and looked up.

'Luke, are you giving me the 'You hurt him I kill you' speech?' she tried to chuckle.

He looked down at the counter for a second before his eyes met hers again.

'Do I need to?'

Rory stood there, considering his question for a moment.

'No.'

'Okay.'

Early March sun was setting down above snow-covered marble angels and granite gargoyles, bringing them to life into the dim light (for the creative imagination).

It was a tired, cold blue sky, but pink and orange hues stained it with hope for oncoming spring.

And it was in a place like this where the circle of life sometimes appeared in plain view. It was a fragile balance - opposites constantly transforming into each other, neither possible without tasting a glimpse of the other.

A young woman was kneeling over the white stone, glove-clad hands fumbling in her lap while she sought for the right words.

'Hey, mom.'

Jess crashed the cigarette butt against the wall behind his back and made a step forward to throw it into a trash can, when he stopped midway, his attention caught by something else.

He shouldn't be surprised, he reminded himself. He had come here waiting for them, after all.

A middle-aged blonde and a similarly blonde girl in school uniform, walking. The woman was carrying the girl's backpack while the kid was jumping around through the snow, excitedly telling her mother some story over her shoulder.

Jess stood rooted to the spot, with only his eyes moving as he watched them for another fifty meters before they stopped and walked into one of the houses. He stood stiffly, trying to connect what had been to what was now. Sometimes, fitting your memories into reality could seem like a joke. Or a lie. Sometimes both.

Like losing control over the steer, car driving on its own, his thoughts were rapidly speeding in new directions. And then it was over. Once the steer was back in hands, all he could do was see where he'd gone and then go on from there.

She came back into the house, feeling dizzy. Something was happening within her, but she didn't know if it was a good something or a bad something. She just knew she felt an unexpected wave of relief wash over her, over and over, all the way back.

'Jess?' she threw the keys on the living room coffee table as her eyes searched him. 'You here?'

Well, he couldn't have driven away, she thought. The Chevy was forming a snow pile outside, and she thought there was pretty little chance that it would start up in a weather like this. But, then again, it was a miracle it started ever at all. This wreck was an antique.

Then she saw him. A silent profile, sitting in the armchair by the french windows.

Here you are... sad boy.

She made a couple of steps and leveled the armchair.

'Hey,' she greeted gentler, quieter, as if waking him up.

He looked up.

'Hey.'

She moved to sit at the edge of the armrest and studied his face. He looked pensive. A bit down maybe. Yeah, there was this certain sour vibe in his somberness, but there it was.

She would ask him if he was okay, she decided. If everything was okay with his mom. He would answer vaguely, she knew, and she would go and make him some tea. Because that's what good friends do. They provide understanding. Friendly atmosphere. And tea. She knew he liked tea, right?

But then, instead, she was leaning down and her hands were cupping his face while her lips were kissing him. She just wanted to reassure him, she told herself. Make him feel better. See how much of her dream would turn out to be true... Oh, God...

He was fast to react this time. His arms encircled her hips, bringing her close so that she ended up straddling him.

He waited for her to accommodate to the feeling of his lips against hers before he took control, kissing her fully.

Her fingers were lost into his hair when he deepened the kiss, changing angle and leaning more into her. She felt like she was falling apart. She scattered onto the floor, hundreds of little pieces running in different directions, but it was a delicious feeling, a feeling of losing control, of letting go.

Their foreheads rested against one another, both of them panting.

Then she pulled away and stood up suddenly, breaking contact.

'Sorry,' she mumbled, covering her lips with her knuckles.

'About what?' he asked in a low scratchy voice and stood up slowly, unable to figure out what she meant.

'This.' She made an indefinite gesture between them.

He let a heavy breath out.

'Jeez, not again,' he shook his head and ran both hands through his hair.

'We can't,' she wrapped her arms around herself self-consciously and bit a lip. She could still taste him all over.

He made a step towards her and she backed unconsciously.

'Are you playing games, Rory?' his eyes flashed warningly and he rubbed his chin, trying to keep his cool, but his temper was already speeding. 'Something like 'Oops, I tripped over your face and I kissed you again' game? 'Cause I'm kinda out of it by now.'

Rory shook her head confusedly.

'We can't,' she repeated bluntly.

'Believe me, we can,' he laughed humorlessly and she felt her cheeks blush even more as she remembered the feeling of him pressing hard against her mere seconds ago.

'Jess...'

'Rory.' He crossed his arms before his chest expectantly.

'I...' she swallowed hard.

'Yes?'

'I'm...'

'I'm listening,' he encouraged.

I'm falling for you. Badly.

'I'm your boss.'

Jess blinked once. Twice.

'No, you're not,' he replied simply.

'But I will be.'

He took a sharp breath in, trying to compose himself, but failing miserably.

'Goddamn it, Rory, do you really believe I'm buying this shit? How old do you think I am - nine?'

'Jess...'

'You drove with me all the way here, to Stars Hollow, playing some abstract game of chicken about your mom, putting up the whole drama queen scenario, getting me to actually believe that this, whatever it is we've got going on here, is not about filling the gaps in your fun schedule...'

'It's no...'

'Jeez, have you completely forgotten how to handle your relationships with other people, besides giving orders and keeping it strictly boss-employee? You're trying to control everything so badly, that it's getting ridiculous. You think you're so independent on your own, but you've based your whole life on a major loss and a career you're trying to fit into that loss.'

'Stop it,' she hissed.

'You're really going for that bossy socialite bitch character, aren't you? You like her so much, she looks untouchable the way she is, eh? And you think that's the right thing to be, because she fits. She fucking fits your scheme into that imaginary world you've created for yourself, simply because living in the real world scares you. But this isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. You're so used to lying to everyone, you can't stop lying to yourself.'

'Stop it, just stop!' she sobbed, bending down to rest one hand on her knees, while trying to cover her face with the other.

For a moment he stood paralyzed, staring at her sudden breakdown. He breathed in and out, waiting for his mind to cool down.

She had suddenly crumbled, just like that. Unintentionally, he had hit all the soft places of her defense. Guess some things had been waiting to be said for a while.

'Hey,' he made a step forward so that he stood right before her and gently took hold of her sides, bringing her up to face him. 'Rory.'

She jerked her head to the side, trying to free herself from his grip, looking away, but Jess steadily gathered her in his arms, making her rest her weight against him.

'I'm sorry, okay?' he whispered in her hair, feeling her shake with another sob.

'You're not,' she protested, thumping a fist against his chest as she tried to free herself from his grip. He kept his arms closed around her, soothing her hair.

'I am,' he repeated. 'I'm not sorry for what I said, though' he explained quietly, 'because it's the truth. But I am sorry it hurts you to hear it.'

She shook with another sob and let him hold her.

He kissed the top of her head and swayed her in his arms, letting her nuzzle his neck.

With another gasp she breathed him in and her lips somehow inched up towards his neck, at first just pressing into the warm skin, but then kissing, tasting the salt of her own tears. Once. Twice. Her heart sped up. And then she became painfully aware of what was happening.

No! No, no, no, no, NO!

He squinted as he felt her teeth over his skin. Before he had time to react, her lips locked with his in a frenzy of a kiss. She kissed him wildly, urgently, brushing and biting at the same time, conveying both anger and desire, her hands balling up the hem of his shirt. It was like she was trying to convey some misunderstood revenge. The world blazed behind his eyes and it took him a moment to get his mind to work properly.

His palms found the sides of her face and kept it steady. His eyes paused on hers before he tilted his head and started slowly kissing his way down her jaw and neck in a gentle, deliberately calculated caress, trying to pace them down. He trailed her clavicle and let a breath out against the soft skin of her neck. She shivered. His eyes shut.

Rory tried to swallow. Her skin tingled at the graze of his chin and a thousand alarms set off in her body. This wasn't happening. It was alright happening, but it shouldn't be. What was happening within her was never supposed to happen. If it ever did, however, it was supposed to be meaningless. She couldn't bear any more meaning into her life.

Can't you see? I can't bear you into my life...

Her fingers slid under his shirt and dug into the skin of his back as she searched for his lower lip again. She bit deeper this time.

Jess cringed involuntarily and pulled back, his tongue tracing the bitten spot. He took a firmer hold of her shoulders and studied her face. She didn't look so angry any more. Her eyes were a deep, unsettled blue. Her chin was slightly quivering and she looked... confused.? Lost. Found.? Trapped.

He held her, with just enough force to show he had the upper hand, without actually trying to inflict pain. She squirmed in his arms, trying to get free. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

'Why are you trying to fight this so badly?' he breathed out and lifted his hands from her shoulders, freeing her.

She didn't move. Didn't breathe. His forehead was still lightly resting against hers. One thumb traced her jawline while the other one brushed her lips.

Tell me to stop and I will.

She bit her lip hard and tensed up, staring into his closed eyes. Kept her breath in for another moment before she finally relaxed, giving in. And let him make love to her.

Review. Please.