Page 90 of Inferno
Stan kissed her ear, her closed eyelids, her mouth and her arched throat, murmuring tender words of love.
Enveloped in his strong arms, their bodies intimately joined, Prissy felt a profoundly powerful sense of completion wash over her.
Right then and there she vowed not to let anything—or anyone—come between her and her husband ever again.
Hours later, as they lay in the darkness of their bedroom with streaks of lightning forking across the night sky outside the window, Stan whispered softly, “Pris?”
She didn’t respond.
“Pris?You awake?”
She mumbled incoherently, snuggling closer to him beneath the heavy covers.
“Baby?”
“Hmm?”
“We were supposed to talk,” he reminded her. “I know it’s late—”
She laid her fingers over his mouth. “Sleep,” she whispered.
Stan smiled.
“Okay,” he acquiesced, gently kissing her soft fingertips. “We’ll talk another time.”
Long after Prissy drifted back to sleep, he lay awake watching her quietly.
No matter how painful or difficult it was, he would tell her about the nightmares.
He would tell her everything.
But first he had to take care of some unfinished business.
