This made sense, he realized. This. Anne, with her bottomless eyes and inexperienced mouth. Anne, who was obviously so in love with him that she'd made him into something eternal. Trenton clutched her twisting fingers, impatient when she crammed herself back against the couch. It was an arch of escape, not of yielding. Anne's plea to halt was met with a frustrated sound, but Trenton did stop. He didn't retreat, but he didn't advance. Just hovered, obviously quite irritated, in this in between.