She ran away from her wedding, which ended in her own demise and became her forever nightmare. She eloped with another man over the one who loved her. She was on by that person who lured her into leaving her husband and driving her to death. She came back to life and lay on their matrimonial bed. A firm but gentle hand closed around her wrist and guided her hand back to the front of his pants. She looked at her small pale hand next to his large tanned fingers and let him press her palm into him. It would be easy to let him take her, easy to submit to him. She wanted it. She wanted to feel his large hands on every inch of her body. “Wait,” she gasped. “We have to stop. This isn’t talking.” “It’s better than talking,” he said, pressing his lips to her neck. “No, we need to talk,” she said. “Get off me, let me put my clothes on.” “You can’t make love with clothes on,” he said, biting her earlobe. “Listen to me,” she said. “I’m trying to be serious, okay? I know I shouldn’t have run away.” “What is this about?” he asked in a cold tone.