“You want me to leave?”

She made no sound.

“Vy, it does get lonely for you, doesn’t it? I know it does. I feel that way myself, a lot of the time. I do.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “I find myself alone in some little town and I almost go crazy because there isn’t anyone who feels things the way I do. And I think how wonderful it would be to meet a person like that and be with that person for a little while. Not for long. Just for a little while.” He could feel the heat of her body through the robe, he could feel the pulsing of her heart through his palm.

Very firmly he drew her close and kissed her. Her lips were full and soft, but they resisted him, as her body resisted him, and he found that this added to his excitement.

“You want it,” he said. “I knew that when we met. You may not like me, but you want me, and there’s no point lying.”

Vy Griffin tore his hand away from her breast. “I love Sam,” she said.

“Of course,” he said. “But that doesn’t make any difference. We’re not hurting Sam. You won’t tell him, and I certainly don’t intend to. So relax. It isn’t the first time, is it?”

Her hand stung sharply across his face. He grasped her wrist and forced her across the bed. Without speaking, he untied the cord that held the robe, and remained motionless.

“Tell me you’re not excited,” he said. “Tell me you don’t want to sleep with me now.” He pulled the robe apart. She was naked beneath it. Her body was white and glistening in the violet light. Adam knelt and kissed her breast and felt the nipple harden against his tongue. He placed his hand, almost casually, between her legs. “Go on,” he said, “tell me you don’t want me. If you do, I’ll leave right now.”

But Vy Griffin could not speak. In that moment she seemed to relax, to stop fighting and thinking and being afraid. Her arms reached up and pulled Adam down tight upon her. Her mouth parted and covered his, hungrily.

He took off his clothes and lay down next to her again and lay there waiting for the pain to grow, smelling the cheap perfume and the heat and the night.

It was a sickness, someone had once told her. Just like other sicknesses. You went to a doctor and he cured you. So she’d gone to a doctor, and he’d talked with a lot of big words, but what he’d ended up saying was what she’d known all along: there was no cure. You can take the needle away from an addict and you can lock him up, but you cannot take away his hunger and his need.