To her horror she realized that she had nearly forgotten how to kiss after a years-long dry spell, and she could detect drool on her own chin and John’s cheek. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. “John, of course I forgive you if it is what you need from me. If Thames is murdered, you are his assassin. "You want me, then?" she said. And then I came here. ‘Good. Sheppard.
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