Leila's POV:
His touch was everywhere, setting my skin aflame and leaving me trembling under his control. Every brush of his lips, every flick of his tongue—it was intoxicating, consuming. My hands instinctively gripped his shoulders, my nails biting into his flesh as waves of pleasure coursed through me. I felt completely exposed and vulnerable, yet utterly safe in his hands.
I could barely catch my breath, my body reacting to him with a fervor I'd never known. My hips moved against him of their own accord, seeking more, needing more. His name slipped from my lips, a desperate whisper, "Chase…" The sound of it was foreign to my ears—pleading, trembling, raw.
He looked up at me then, his eyes dark with hunger yet filled with something deeper. It was enough to make my chest tighten, to make me forget the world beyond this moment. But just as I felt myself teetering on the edge, he stopped. He lifted his head, his face glistening with evidence of my desire, and met my gaze.
