As if she interpreted this, she brushed her nose
with the back of her hand and sniffled.
"Peter," she pleaded, her voice husky, "You've empowered me.
You've given me a whole new meaning. It's my future."
Somehow her words had breaking effect on him. He was both
repulsed and beholden by her sentiment. By himself. He turned his
face toward the window, fighting the urge to reach out and pull
her down by the waist. It was not as if he were in love with this
young girl. And the way she made it sound, he was acting on her
behalf, like she needed him. Not the other way around. No, not
that at all. He didn't need her. She was nothing to him. Just
another worshipper in a long string of subjects.
And, as if to prove his cruel pretense, she knelt before him. Her
soft knees touched his shins. He smelled the peppery sweetness of
her breath, and his eyes lingered on her radiant golden hair. He
looked into her shining, anticipating eyes.
With a deep, winded sigh that was almost a cry, he finally
acknowledged his fear. It was inevitable, he told himself, as he
felt himself rising. He placed his fingertips about her neck,
traced his thumbs along her delicate lips, her precious ears,
touched her smooth eyelids, and gently pressed them shut. Her
breath hitched, and she waited for his touch to lead them
farther.
He slid the kimono from her lean body, and guided her hands to
his shoulders.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97