The sound of movement.

Jenner listened, suddenly awake.

The battered clock radio on the bedside table read 2:05 a.m.

The cabin was quiet.

Then the tapping came again. The front door.

He pulled on a T-shirt and sweats, and opened the door to find Maggie, her eyes rimmed with blurred mascara, shivering despite the wrap clutched tightly around her. Over her shoulder he saw the Bentley, straddling two parking spaces.

“I came, Jenner.”

“You okay?”

She shook her head as he opened the door, and she slipped into his arms and she kissed him over and over.

“What is it?”

Maggie shook her head again, and the wrap slipped off her shoulders, and she guided his hand back, helping him pop the catch at the top of her zip. His hand slipped the zipper down her back, and her dress fell away, and she was naked and smooth against him, tearing off his T-shirt.

Jenner pulled her down onto the bed; she kissed his face and his hair and then moved up to straddle him, leaning back so he could admire the swell of her breasts.

He lifted up to kiss her and she pushed him down, hand flat on his chest. She said, “Am I pretty, Jenner?”

He smiled and reached up for her, but she slapped his hand away. “Tell me.”

He lay back and said, “You’re beautiful,” and it was true.

Maggie reached down, traced the width of his shoulders, touched along the scar on his arm. She leaned up over him so he could kiss her stomach, and as his lips kissed her skin, she stroked his hair and he rolled her so he was on top.

She slid her wrists above her head, and he understood she wanted him to pin them down, and when he did, her hips lifted to him. He pressed her down, and her breath was hot on his neck as she whispered he should do whatever he wanted to her, that anything he wanted to do, she’d do it…Anything, anything, anything…She would be his slut, be his little bitch, be anything he wanted, if he would just…if he would just…

Afterward, when they’d both finished, Maggie let him sleep; she lay there and watched him for a long while. She pressed closer to him, kissed his shoulder, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Jenner,” because she already knew how things would go between them.

A little later, she went to the sink, filled a glass of water, and put it on his bedside table; it was hot in the room, and Jenner might get thirsty.