The gilded grandfather clock in the upstairs hallway chimed seven, waking Godric. The fire crackled, twigs and bits of logs snapping. He lay on his back with Emily, still asleep, curled up against his side. The feel of her in his arms was wonderful. A perfect fit. He wanted to hold her more often, keep her close so he could smell the flowery scent in her hair, relish her satiny skin beneath his palms.They could always be like this, he realized. He and Emily could grow old this way, spending years exploring each other. He craved that elusive, impossible future. To want something, to know you could have it, and once you had it, lose it. He wasn't ready for that, might never be ready. But what could it hurt to pretend, for at least a few days, to have what he wanted? Godric slid a hand under the covers, seeking the edge of her night rail. His fingers met bare skin near her calves, and he slid the fabric up to expose her hips to his hand. Emily's head twisted a little. She nuzzled his ch
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