“Maybe we're sick,” her voice fell back into a whisper. He groaned and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close so she was pressed against his chest. “If this is a sickness, then I don't want a cure,” he whispered back. “You're very clever for a sociopath.” “Well, cleverness is a trademark of being one. Now shut up and go to sleep before I give your mouth something better to do.”
