Vivienne was still laying on André's chest. The warmth of his skin pressed against hers, sticky from sweat, their breathing still uneven from what had just happened minutes ago. They were naked, completely exposed, wrapped only in the silence that filled the chamber.
His hand slowly traced her spine with an almost religious care, the pads of his fingers dragging lightly as if he wanted to memorize every inch of her. From time to time, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against her forehead.
Her hands moved in lazy circles across his chest, her fingertips stroking the hard lines of muscle, sliding down to the flat of his stomach. From the outside, it looked tender, gentle, like two people basking in the warmth of love after passion. If anyone walked in, they would swear these were lovers lost in a dream.
But the truth sat like poison between them.
