Grey stayed quiet for long enough that Amunet eventually shifted against him, her bare chest sliding across the fabric of his shirt while her thighs tightened around his waist to keep herself from slipping.
He barely noticed. His hands had settled against the backs of her thighs, fingers sunk into the soft skin just beneath the curve of her ass, but his thoughts had already drifted somewhere far away from the room.
The time travel part didn't bother him much. If Prometheus had stolen a piece of Kronos, then throwing one girl a few thousand years into the future was exactly the sort of thing that power would be good for, and the angel lady had already told him enough for the pieces to line up. What bothered him was everything surrounding it.
