Amy tossed in her bed, then froze as she heard Northcliff's voice in her head. A...

Amy tossed in her bed, then froze as she heard Northcliff's voice in her head. A shiver ran up her spine at the memory of Northcliff's words, but it wasn't fear. It was desire. She wanted to rise from her bed and go to him. She wanted to see him. Not just his face or the expanse of his chest, but all of him. Because while he said he had been imagining her, she had also been imagining him. In a motion so slow and cautious her ancient straw-stuffed mattress made no noise, Amy sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees.
Northcliff was awake below. She knew it; she could feel his unswerving attention, the waves of his will beckoning her to him.