Page 71 of Wired Target

“I can’t quite believe this is real.”He could hardly speak past the lump in his throat.

Sophie had been physically remote since he moved into the house: a fleeting touch on his shoulder, a peck on the cheek, a hug, leaning against him or snuggling platonically had been the extent of their touch—but now, she cupped his jaw in her hand and kissed him.

Oh, that kiss.

He slowed his breath, his heartbeat, the very movement of the blood in his veins so he could more deeply inhabit the moment when she lowered her guard and took him all the way in.

Humility and gratitude were the flavors on his tongue as he tasted her; tears flowed freely and added salt.

She pulled back and stoked his cheek, his jaw, the muscle of his shoulder.“Why are you sad?”

“I’m not sad.I’m just ...”Words failed him.He ducked his head to rest it on her breast.She pulled him close, stroking his hair, his shoulders, his back.His body stirred in response.

“They’re always here with us, aren’t they?Even my mother,” she murmured.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go to my room and leave them outside.”She stood, and took his hand, and helped him with his crutch.They went up the steps of the verandah into the house and closed the door behind them.