Pedro had barely pulled out of the driveway when the silence of the house pressed in on Aline. She stood by the window, arms folded, watching his car shrink down the street. Another long day. Another night he would come home too tired to look at her, much less touch her.

Her robe slipped slightly from one shoulder, and she pulled it back up, though not out of modesty—more out of habit. Her body was awake, restless, and she knew exactly who had been haunting her thoughts.

The low ...