
A country estate, a Roman villa. Conflict, comfort, passion, love.
"Christ, I’m sorry Bodie. I’m not thinking straight. I’m sorry.” As he spoke Doyle’s head sagged forward and came to rest upon Bodie’s shoulder. That one small movement was all it took to pierce Bodie’s armour of self-control totally and he gathered Doyle towards him, wrapping his arms around him as he did so and feeling Doyle’s arms snake around his back in response.
“Ray, I’m so sorry,” he murmured, holding him tightly. “I wish there was something I could do.”
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