The Mark of Desire
Leon closed the door softly with careful slowness, the soft click engulfed by the quiet of the evening. He stood for a moment, palm against the smooth wood, as if closing a sanctuary door behind him. In that room rested Cassidy and Mia—mother and daughter—blessedly awarded a slice of tranquility.
He nearly departed silently, but a gentle laugh betrayed him. The memory was too recent to ignore. Before he slipped away, he'd leaned down and kissed each of their foreheads. The manner in which both of them had stiffened into shock, then blushed with shyness, almost innocence, had been too much. They'd widened their eyes like frightened kittens, mouth open but unable to speak. That expression—half shock and half sweetness—stuck to him still, drawing another low laugh from his body.
"Cute," he whispered to himself, wagging his head as he finally walked away.
