Night had fallen over the small, unadorned town. Outside the hotel window, the sky was pitch-black, a stark contrast to the ever-luminous nights of a big city.
Joan Shaw groggily opened her eyes. Through her hazy vision, she saw a muscular man sitting on top of her.
"Who... are you?" Her fingertips dug into the flesh of his back, a desperate outlet for her burgeoning desire.
The man held her, his body slick with a fine sheen of sweat.
Their breaths mingled, their fingers intertwined, and even the rhythm of their heartbeats seemed to synchronize.
He leaned in close to her ear, whispering her name. "Joan, it's me. Miles."
"Miles..." 'A Miles Xavier this gentle...'
Joan Shaw relaxed her grip. So it was just a dream. 'How could the real him possibly be this gentle with me?'
Slowly, her earlier resistance melted into compliance, and she began to kiss him back passionately.
