The Agency, Volume III Page 21

  "Absolutely not," I replied. "I don't do complicated, and I don't do love. You have nothing to worry about. We'll just do what feels right, and everything will work out."

  "Is that possible?"

  "Trust me. I'm 150 years old. I've had plenty of time to perfect the fine art of 'friends with benefits.'"

  "Good," he said, clamping his mouth on mine again.

  We writhed around each other like snakes, and when I had a second to tear my lips away, I panted, "God damn...you're going to be trouble, Angel Boy."

  His eyes were sparkling. "I already am, Bat Girl, and so are you."

  I thought of about a dozen snappy retorts to that, but never had a chance to use any of them--before long, I had forgotten how to speak English entirely, reduced to gasps of "yes" and "god" and "harder" and "more."

  Conversation is overrated anyway.