"Graeme," August said softly, looking now at his lips and drawing the edge out of his voice.
"Yes, my love," he became aware that their time was running out. Somehow he knew it like an instinct, like the smell of rain on the air with the approaching storm. It bled into his senses, causing his heart to go racing in protest.
"Wherever I am, I will whisper your name like a secret prayer," she said, drawing herself closer to him, a breath away as she curled one arm around his neck and with the other hand tugged lightly at his hair, running her hand up against the direction of its growth before weaving her fingers through and tugging lightly again, her breasts pressed against him, slippery with the water that managed to come between them when it seemed that nothing else could. Not even this. Not even a vampire.
