Finally, Simone had the advantage, thanks to her trousers and sturdy shoes. Evangeline’s Oxfords kept sliding out from under her as she skidded across the winding path; a stray bone spur snagged her stockings with a horrible rip that cascaded down the fabric. The footsteps drew nearer. Evangeline pulled her down a side corridor, darting underneath a workers’ oilcloth spread across an archway of femurs and skulls. They were plunged into darkness in the narrow gap. Evangeline clasped a hand over Simone’s mouth as they faced each other in the alcove, and Simone could feel their hearts pounding together frantically as they tried not to breathe.

The footsteps drew closer. Closer. And then with a heavy grunt, went back the way they came.

They sagged down, Evangeline squeezing her forearms tight. Simone couldn’t bear to let go. Evangeline’s warmth was intoxicating, a strong perfume she couldn’t stop breathing in. All she wanted was to drown and drown.

Finally, she drew a ragged breath. “What . . . What is it, then . . .” The boil threatened to overtake her. “What is it you really want?”

In the dim lighting, Evangeline almost glowed, her face drawing closer. She pushed a loose strand of Simone’s hair back from her face, eyes luminous.

Simone didn’t dare breathe. She couldn’t startle whatever delicate thing lived between them. She wasn’t ready to give it up. Not yet.

“I want you.”

Evangeline cupped Simone’s hand on her face and drank her in with her lips. Simone was so startled at first she almost pushed back, and Evangeline faltered—but Simone surged forward then, and more than made up for her misstep. Their arms were warring as they reached for each other, but their lips were in harmony, working together like they’d been made to do this all along. Evangeline tasted sweet and a little salty, creamy like the wedges of Brie she brought home. And the gentle sighs she breathed against Simone’s cheeks were as soft as any of her gauzy dresses. Simone wanted to grip them, feel that fragile fabric in her hands. Her knee slid between Evangeline’s thighs, and Evangeline tightened around it with a moan.

“I want you,” Evangeline murmured when she gasped for breath. “I want you, I want you.”

“You already have me,” Simone said. She found the tender space beneath Evangeline’s ear and kissed it. “Since the day we met. But—aren’t you afraid?”

Evangeline leaned back from her, eyes wide and gleaming in the electric light that trickled around the corners of the oilcloth. The concern scrawled so plainly on her delicate features fractured Simone’s heart.

“I’m always afraid.” Evangeline’s voice wavered like it might break. “But isn’t it better than being afraid alone?”