Katelina woke. She blinked in the dimness, her eyes drawn to the open bathroom door. Light flooded out of it and gave shape and depth to the small motel room.
Jorick was still next to her on his back, his arm under her head. His dark lashes lay on his pale cheeks and his raven hair pooled against the crisp white pillowcase. He was covered from the waist down in the ugly bedspread and the bathroom light gleamed on the smooth expanse of his chest.
She looked away from him to the water stained ceiling. She closed her eyes tightly to blot out the world and asked herself the requisite "what have I done?" morning-after question, only she truthfully felt no regret. It was simply a game she played out of habit, a society imposed guilt complex that failed to actually make her feel guilty. No, she
