Prolog
He was laying next to me in the massive california king bed. The stark white 600 thread count sheets wrapped around our naked bodies. The room was simple and elegant, with a boho chic vibe. Clean whites, pale blues and greens accenting the room. Brushed gold picture frames she couldn’t bare to look at. Brushed Gold also framed the large tv opposite the bed. She watched as the screen saver city scape, that had been on when they entered the room earlier, continued to take her throughh the streets to the skyline of Manhattan, his home.
Sitting up a bit more she looked out the open veranda doors to the porch, cafe lights still on, the bottle of Duckhorn Cab sat only partially finished. The curtains blowing gently in the breeze. The soft sound of frogs and cicads floating into the evening around her. The crisp Febuary air reminding her that nights like this were rare in her sleepy southern town. Soon it would be too hot for the doors to be left open, to hear the songs of the night creature and to drown out the sound of the gental breathing of the man next to her.
Then for the hundreth time that night her eyes landed on this power torso and gentle face. He looked so peaceful and kind when he slept, nothing like the firm, dominate, and at times brutal man he could and often was in the light of day. But that personality had been what had so attracted her to him, that dominering, no nonsense way he carried himself. Thats why he was the youngest partner in his criminal defense firm. Her eyes ran hungrely back over his torso, the lith lean muscle he’d clearly dedicated serious amounts of time honing. Her hand left the comfort of the sheets to touch the body she’d been craving for so long. That’s when the baby monitor went off.
