Time seemed to lose its meaning as they lay entangled, their clothes in disarray beneath the bed.

Tears glistened in Cecilia’s eyes as she felt a hint of sobriety mixed with a daze.

Her slender fingers gently caressed Mark’s handsome features, and she whispered hoarsely, “Mark, no one can bully me.

In her heart, he was the only one, from beginning to end!

She cried like a little girl, her heart torn between wanting him close and feeling wronged.

Mark gently brushed his slender fingers against her glamorous face, trying to comfort her.

“Don’t cry, Cecilia.

he coaxed in a low voice, his

torn between staying with her and the knowledge that it

the moment she called him “Mark,”

she seldom used, and when she had referred to him as “Uncle Mark”

©

hearing her call him by his name, he felt the weight of their history together—a history that involved a woman who

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their bodies seeking

of physical pain but of

of night, he indulged himself in this tender moment of

was because she couldn’t help calling him ‘Uncle

dormant love and affection, their passion reignited like gasoline meeting a flame—irresistible

Cecilia

Mark’s handsome face magnified before her, lying beside her in her

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