He trailed his fingers, feather-light, down her ribs. His body was trembling and tight, close to the edge of things, and he strained toward that inevitable precipice, desirous and desperate for it.

He tilted his head back, exposing his neck, so near where her lips were brushing his ear. His pulse fluttered under his skin and he pressed his hips down against her hand, dripping around her fingers filthily.