The air itself felt thick and heavy, charged with a primal electricity that made every shallow breath a conscious act. His hands, large and calloused, found the delicate curve of her waist, the heat of his palms searing through the thin silk of her chemise as if it were nothing. A low, guttural sound escaped his throat, not a word but a promise of the raw need coiling within him. She arched into his touch, a silent surrender that spoke volumes, her head falling back to expose the vulnerable column of her throat. His mouth followed the path his hands had mapped, tasting the salt of her skin, feeling the frantic pulse that beat there in time with her quickening heart. There was no patience left, only the driving, istent pressure of his body agat hers, a rhythm as ancient as the earth. Fingers tangled in fabric, pulling and tearing in a desperate quest for the bliss of skin meeting skin without barrier. The world narrowed to this single point of contact, this feverish joining where thought dissolved into pure, aching sensation. A final, shuddering gasp was torn from them both as the last vestige of control shattered into a thousand glittering fragments.
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