Miles brought his mouth down over hers and kissed her with a force that seared through her, illuminating every sinew in her body until she felt like she must be glowing. They stood in the middle of the kitchen like that, lost in one another’s embrace, in one another’s need. The clock behind them struck three, and Miles pulled away from her lips. Pain flickered across his face for an instant, then disappeared, doused by her smile. They stood quietly apart, holding hands, as they listened to the chimes. Time was too precious now to waste in anything besides pleasure. Clio reached up, brushed the lock of hair off Miles’s forehead, and said, “I read in a book once that, after the strain of battle, the soldiers of the Roman Empire could consume twice their weight in food.” Miles smiled despite himself. “Plutarch only wrote that as propaganda to get more money for the troops from the penny-pinching Roman senators,” he said, distractedly rubbing his chin against the crown of her head.
