"First of all, I took out eight men. I did my best and littering is bad for the environment. Forgive me for being conscious. Secondly, the needle itched. Finally, I wanted you here. He wouldn't have let you through if you were anything less than my husband. Besides, you went along with it. Some part of you must be okay with it."
"Obviously I'm okay with it, considering it's half true." He shook his head. "Are you feeling better than before?"
"My head is clearer," she said, frowning. Her gaze flickered to his. She still had a footprint on her neck where the agent had held her down. "Thank you for saving me."
"Of course," he said softly. "I'll always be there, but this is what I was talking about. I was worried this would happen."
"Second time over six months is too many times in my opinion." He moved to the side of her bed and kissed her cheek.
She turned her head and kissed him. "What would be an appropriate amount in your opinion?" she murmured against his lips.
"Well, I suppose you don't have to be. I do, however. Four attacks per year isn't too bad. Don't worry."
"It's bad, in my opinion. Probably because I care about you and I worry." He sat back. "I don't know. I'm just concerned."
"You didn't ruin it," he reassured. "It was the people who attacked you. We can always do it another day."
She smiled lightly at him before her eyes widened with alarm. "Oh damn. You're supposed to be on your lunch break. You're probably late."
She reached over and took his hand. With her free hand, she rubbed her neck, trying to erase the footprint from her skin. "I love you."
