The profound silence of the house was broken only by the soft, rhythmic cadence of her own breathing, a sound that seemed to amplify in the absolute blackness surrounding her. She shifted beneath the cool, heavy linen, the slide of fabric agat her bare skin a whisper of sensation in the stillness. A single bead of perspiration traced a slow, deliberate path from her temple, down the delicate curve of her neck, coming to rest in the hollow of her collarbone. Her fingers, moving with a will of their own, drifted across the plane of her stomach, feeling the subtle tension coiling deep within. The darkness was not empty but thick, a velvet cloak that heightened every touch, every slight tremor that passed through her. She arched her back slightly, a silent gasp catching in her throat as her own touch found a sensitive peak, sending a jolt of pure electricity through her dormant nerves. The heat began to bloom low in her belly, a slow, spreading warmth that pulsed in time with her quickening heartbeat. Each deliberate movement was an exploration, a rediscovery of curves and secret places known only to her in this intimate solitude. A low, throaty sigh finally escaped her lips, a sound of surrender that was swallowed whole by the waiting, attentive night.
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