The world had narrowed to the space between their bodies, a charged atmosphere thick with the scent of jasmine from the garden outside and the sharp, clean fragrance of his skin. Her fingers, trembling with a will of their own, traced the hard line of his jaw, feeling the subtle shift of muscle as he turned his head to capture her gaze. A low sound, part sigh and part surrender, escaped her lips as his hand settled on the small of her back, pulling her flush agat the solid warmth of his chest. The thin silk of her dress was a negligible barrier, the heat of him seeping through the fabric to brand her skin with a promise of what was to come. He dipped his head, and his mouth found the frantic pulse at the base of her throat, his lips a soft, devastating pressure that made her knees weaken. Every rational thought dissolved into the sensation of his breath ghosting across her collarbone, a prelude to the slow, deliberate path his kisses began to chart. She arched into him, her own hands sliding up to tangle in the dark silk of his hair, holding him closer as a shudder of pure anticipation wracked her frame. The only light came from a single lamp, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to mimic the slow, deliberate rhythm their bodies were beginning to find. In that suspended moment, there was nothing but the exquisite friction of cloth agat skin, the shared breath, and the terrifying, glorious certainty that a line was being crossed from which there could be no return.
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