He eased down, and she welcomed him into her arms. She pillowed his head on her chest, his mouth a breath away from her nipple. He kissed the plump swell of her breast but didn’t move. Their hearts thudded against each other and neither did anything to break the silence.
What could be said? She knew she didn’t have words. She didn’t want to dissect the moment. Words would only ruin the euphoric aftermath of an experience she was at a loss to describe anyway.
She ran her hand idly through his mussed hair. At his nape the crisp hairs were slightly damp with sweat. She inhaled, savoring the uniquely masculine smell of sex and sweat. It was intoxicating and erotic.
“Does it make me a bastard that I’m already fantasizing about the part where you climb on top of me and have your wicked way?” he mumbled against her chest.
She smiled. “As soon as I regain the feeling in my legs, I’ll see what I can do about that particular fantasy.”
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