His hand slipped from my cheek to the back of my inlet, entangling with my hair and tipping my face toward his.
"You want to chill beforehand?"
"We should not."
My words all appeared long and drawn- out, like I was floating in molasses.
Shaman leaned over and kissed my ear. "I will be at your lodging at seven."
"Seven," I reiterated.
His lips pushed to kiss the portion of my cheek closest to my ear, then the cheek's center, then just below my jaws. His lips drifted so intimate to mine; my whole body thickened on that nearness.
I could sense the heat from his mouth, like it had its own special ambiance. Everything progressed in passive motion. I needed him to kiss me, needed him to absorb me with his lips and his tongue. I yearned for it and feared it, yet felt powerless to conduct either way.
"Can I bring you something else?"
