I arrived back at the house, panting hard. The delicate shirt was wet with my sweat. My trousers no longer felt comfortable and my feet hurt in the restricting shoes. I had run—fast, furiously—and got nowhere.
Eliot was just inside the door, waiting for me. For a moment we just stood there, staring at each other. His face was unusually grave. I couldn’t see mine, of course, but I imagined the anguish and the shock there. There’d be plenty of that, wouldn’t there?
“I want you, Steven,” he said softly. “I asked for you to come. I always wanted you. And now I’ve called you back. Come inside.”
“How did you do it? How did you call me here?”
“I don’t know.” He looked sad, though his gaze ran over my body, hungry for me again. “My need for someone was very strong. Sometimes I find that when I
