For all that he managed to articulate precisely what he thought about Bouchart, about his feelings on serving Maria, he found himself at a loss to answer her next question.
What did he want, indeed. Masyaf should be next, it was what he set his sights on since he first came to be in this time. Desmond felt the gnaw of that old anxiety. Would the Apple well and truly have the power to bring him home?
...did he even want to go home, after everything that happened?
Maria's hand on his brought with it a rush of feeling, a warm, electric reminder that drew a shiver up his spine. Even in the dim light, even dressed as she was, he still saw her naked beneath him, wearing little else but that smile that was just for him.
Desmond licked his lower lip, weighing his reply. He turned his hand beneath hers, and let his fingers drift against her wrist. "Not to have to think for a while," he admitted, self-deprecating.
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What did he want, indeed. Masyaf should be next, it was what he set his sights on since he first came to be in this time. Desmond felt the gnaw of that old anxiety. Would the Apple well and truly have the power to bring him home?
...did he even want to go home, after everything that happened?
Maria's hand on his brought with it a rush of feeling, a warm, electric reminder that drew a shiver up his spine. Even in the dim light, even dressed as she was, he still saw her naked beneath him, wearing little else but that smile that was just for him.
Desmond licked his lower lip, weighing his reply. He turned his hand beneath hers, and let his fingers drift against her wrist. "Not to have to think for a while," he admitted, self-deprecating.