<i>She's young.</i><br/><br/>He had to remind himself of that as the euphoria faded, his heart settled down into a normal rhythm, and the sweat dried on his naked torso. He still had an arm wrapped loosely around her torso, his fingertips brushing across her naval like an impulse, back and forth, in time with the breath that ruffled her hair. His bicep was a heavy weight on her hip, just as his chest was solid heat against her back. Until she turned around to look at him with those old soul eyes. His own muddy green stare was watching her motions with rapt attention. His features had settled into a look of pensiveness that had not been there just previously – this was far more analytical than the rapture his expression had just minutes ago held.<br/><br/>And for once James Sinclair was struggling with a witty come back in the face of Lane's frustration. Instead, the face that hovered close to her own looked tired, haggard, the lines more present, and even further of a reminder that he was older than the thirty and change years that his physique suggested he was. The truth: he wasn't going to stop doing the things that he had spent centuries doing. There was no happy ending, no fucking rainbow, at the end of the row with him.<br/><br/>The smile that slowly curled his mouth was a cryptic thing as his lids became hooded. And it was usually him that pushed them away. But... His hand teased its way up her naked torso, feeling her soft skin flushed with their recent acts, right between the valley of her breasts, then raised to settle against the side of her cheek. He turned her head more toward his and leaned down, planting a kiss on her lips. It lacked its previous passion. Instead, it was a tender declaration before he pulled away from her completely to roll over onto his back. He jerked the comforter once and draped it over his hips so that he regained some form of modesty.<br/><br/>“You got one thing wrong there, sweetheart--” Well, she hadn't wanted to be called angel. “I never claimed to be special. A slip?” He grinned around the sardonic bite. His eyes shifted, to catch a glimpse of her reaction. “Stop being such a child about the situation. You chose to be here tonight. You<i>chose </i>to do this with me. There was no asking, telling, coercing, or manipulating you to make any of these decisions. And by all means – if there was, I would like to know them, Ms. Barnes. But I seem to remember you very much wanting what happened here tonight – fucking and all. If you've changed your mind, I'm not going to hold you hostage.”<br/><br/>Harsh words that were spoken calmly. He couldn't look at her as they left his mouth, but they were there like an ice pick trying to get inside her skull while at the same time working on building a wall around his heart and the strange emotions that budded around the<i>girl </i>he had stumbled on in the shop. He had the book; he had her essence. What she did now was going to be none of his concern.<br/><br/>“So you can stay here tonight, with me. Or you can go home. Or neither. I'm up for an adventure.” His eyes sparked, laced in gold, as he turned himself enough to look her full in the eye. The challenge was there in the arrogant mask he had drawn down over his face.