And so I slept. And if I dreamed, it was too deep to remember. I have
VAGUE memories of perhaps a quiet click of a door, maybe a soft rustle
of clothing, or the slight settling of the bed as a weight eases down
on it. If I noticed them while I slept, it was most likely in the
context of a dream.
I woke slowly and languidly, my body arching in a fluid, feline stretch
as my muzzy brain tried to figure out where I was. When I remembered, I
sat up in a flash and fixated on the space next to me. The covers had been
thrown back, and the bed had been slept in. A dark object tugged at the
edge of my vision, and I turned to see a large black duffle tossed on the
easy chair.
He had come back. Brian had come back. And the hushed silence of the
room attested to the fact that he was no longer there.
"SHIT!" I pounded the covers futilely, my face flushing with frustration.
I couldn't believe he had come and gone without waking me! I was livid!
I was furious! I was...
...deflated. As quickly as my anger flared, so it died. My intellect
reasoned that he had probably come back late and exhausted and, seeing
me fast asleep, had decided it was the best idea for both of us. I
heaved a deep sigh, and slumped against the headboard. Last night, as
I had fallen asleep, I would have given anything to be with a man that
had no concern for my fatigue or his, a man that would not have hesitated
to wake me and ravage me immediately, him giving no quarter and me taking
none, tearing at each other like w...
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Anticipation - 4 
