And María wants to say that Andrés’s hands have never stirred such heat in her. Wants to say she is still hungry, though her stomach is full. That she could stay here for a hundred years. So long as Ysabel stayed, too. “It is so quiet in the house, during the day.” Her gaze grazes Ysabel’s throat, traces the lines of her collar, the swell of her breasts. “It feels as if the world is empty, except for us.”
