My hand closed around the grip, and I softly took it off safety. I wasn’t sure who it was, and my half-dream state, I had forgotten that Celeste was...even in the house.My hand relaxed when I heard her voice. “Are you awake?” One of the most inane questions in the world.“Yes,” I said softly, and turned to face her. The moonlight was streaming in from my skylight, casting her in a silvery puddle of warmth. She was wearing one of my button-down shirts, and apparently nothing else. Her hair was. Among them, Clara recognized the alluring Italian. She squeezed her legs together as an unexpected tingle rippled between her thighs; a latent reaction that her body had still not forgotten him. She sighed inwardly and knew she could not indulge in such fickle feelings.When the investigative team had searched the house, they found a stash of photographs of women tied up, being tortured and sexually abused; the faces of some of the arrested citizens clearly identifiable. The house quickly became. More

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