She shifted her weight, coming to a sitting position.  After Tollin, she didn’t think that she would ever fall in love again--but she had.  Gotdammit--she had.  And with of all people; the son of Morpheus Gustafson.  Eliza walked into the sitting room and she’d caught him standing nude, staring out of the window.  Today’s little adventure had landed them in Austin Texas and the city had gone to sleep hours ago.  She walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.  She felt a rise and fall when he heaved in a hefty dose of air.

She said...

“Was it easier when you didn’t know?”

He closed his eyes because in his current situation, her question was inconsequential.  Finding out the truth had been bound to happen, primarily because he’d conceded to the terms of his job.  Eliza was a fixer, and she’d hired him to be her assistant.  He’d understood when she’d explained this to him and when he did things that tested his moral conscience; in those moments he drew strength from his love for Eliza.  How had this happened to him.  Before the New Year had begun, he’d accepted a job in Denver.  The position and the pay had not been the best, but he’d secured the position and he’d been proud of that.  Then he’d made the darn fool decision to see his father.  Bolden wanted to rant curses, because months ago, he’d been honest with himself; his life wasn't his own, and he blamed his father for that.  His father had secured his future and he wondered at what cost.  In spite of his father’s wrangling, he couldn’t wholly blame him because he'd taken the bait.  When he’d caught his first sight of Eliza, he’d been floored by her beauty.  Then after the first time they’d made love, he couldn't get enough of her.

He felt her behind him and he wanted to pull away, yet the thought wasn't even a consideration.  In fact, the idea stood as much of a chance as spinach being devoured on his plate; and he hated spinach.  Whenever he sensed his resolve wavering, he’d say that these dueling emotions were isolated incidences.  He’d stood firm in this assertion but after seven months of swaying, then finally landing on one side of the fence; he’d given up and accepted the truth.  He was a man foolishly in love with a woman he barely knew.

They were at a stalemate and Eliza did that thing too him that she’d usually do when she wanted something.  She came around to stand in front of him.  She stared him in his eyes, parted her mouth to glide the tip of her tongue across her lips for added moistness.  Then, without preamble, she placed her hand on his chest, lowered her head, then clamped his nipple between her teeth and she didn't release until he cried out her name.  Through gritted teeth, he strained out

"Eliza."  He winced, then he felt the pain ease when she released his nipple, but a part of him had wanted the pain to stay.  She lifted up on tiptoes, then she kissed his lower jaw.

She said...

“Of all the things that I love about you--I love the color of your skin the most.  I would die for that complexion.”

She’d said this before but they never talked about his mixed heritage.  He smiled at her and he watched her lips when she said...

“Join me in the shower.  I want to tell you something.

"What."  He said obstinately..

She laughed, then she rounded him, and began a backwards trek, in the direction of the bedroom.  He loved watching her, especially when she was naked.  She never scrambled for a robe or wrapped herself in a sheet.  Eliza was smart, beautiful and she was comfortable in her own skin.

Eliza's eyes bore through him when she said...

"I love you.  I love you and I know that we might be making a huge mistake--but I don’t care anymore.  And what does that say about me?”

She laughed but the sound wasn’t one of those hilarious sounds one would make after hearing a good joke.  Her expression had sounded forced, and he’d detected a hint of mockery in her voice.  Eliza had never expressed her feelings in words, and this was the first time she’d used the word love when referring to their relationship.  But that laugh; what the fuck was that all about?  He wondered if she’d been laughing at herself, or did she consider him to be the absurd one.  How did she expect him to react after witnessing two emotions that contradicted the other?  How long had he waited to hear her say the word, love.  One month--two months; he didn’t know because he’d stopped counting, and that was the problem.  Eliza was an enigma and she rattled his cage.  He wanted to scream every time one of their conversations reached a deadlock.  He wanted a winner, not this head heat bullshit.  In times like this, Bolden would withhold his comments.  Eliza was a calculating woman and she never did or said anything unless she could control the outcome.  He didn’t know if this was another one of her tactical ploys and he hated the fact that he gotdamn didn’t want to know.  He was too afraid of the truth.  Truth held meaning, and generally, it came with consequences.  His skull felt like a bat ridden cave and each bat resembled a problem; something he couldn’t or wouldn’t puzzle out.  When Eliza had hit him with her ‘love’ zinger, he’d been mulling over Governor Andrew Wilcox--the conversation he’d overheard; that as well as all the other dirty nasty secrets he and Eliza had been paid to dismantle or coverup.  He heaved a sigh because it was all too much for him, and he was beginning to feel like his life wasn’t his own anymore.  That was a joke, he thought to himself because when had his life been his own.  Never--the thought blasted him and he hated it when brut honesty hurt.  Bolden Gustafson was Morpheus Gustafson’s son--and that came with a hefty dose of responsibility; so much so that he didn’t even want to reflect on this past year.  He just couldn’t because Bolden had done the one thing he’d swore he would never do.  He was becoming his father.  This thought took him down a dark dank hole, but thankfully Eliza rescued him.  Her sweet luring voice was like a lifeline to him, and he needed that.  Bolden needed her.

“Bo...”

She rarely called him by his nickname because this is the name that his sister and his father ofttimes would use.  But Eliza had told him that she would use it, despite his aversion towards it.  She told him, that she would use it because she wanted him to take back his power.  She repeated that to him, and it wasn’t until now that he understood.  Bolden had hated his nickname because over the years he’d linked the word ‘Bo’ to all that was bad in his life; and in so doing, he’d given something that belonged to him, to someone else.  Namely, his father and his sister.  But when Eliza called him Bo--her pronouncements always followed with something sweet and when he answered her, it was because he’d chosen to respond.  In the end, he got it.  It had never been his name that he disliked; it had been his father and his sister--not the name Bo.

Bolden set aside his memory and he concentrated on the woman in the room.  He quietly followed her into the bathroom, then he watched her when she turned on the shower.  She stood back, and studied him and when her eyes raked an up and down path; every hair on Bolden’s body stood on end.  He walked over to her, then he swooped her up into his arms.  He cursed, then he said...

"I don’t give a damn about anything.  Whoever you were talking to; I don’t care who it was.  I don’t have to know.  Wherever you go--I don’t care what kind of shit we’ll have to deal with; I’m in it with you baby.  I mean it Eliza; we're in this together."

She loved him for that--but if he only knew, she’d thought.  Her heart pounded in her chest and she wanted him inside of her.  But not yet.  Eliza needed more than a declaration of solidarity.

She pressed saying...

"Bolden, you don't understand.  I've done things...and I'm not proud of my actions"