His lips left a trail of fire down her stomach, his breath a warm whisper against her skin. He lingered there, his hands still holding her hips, his head bent low. Rose's fingers were tangled in his hair, a silent plea for him to continue, to never stop. The firelight flickered, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of them—of passion and surrender.
With a gentle shift, he moved up, his body pressing against hers again. His lips found hers, and this kiss was different. It was deep and consuming, a promise being fulfilled. His tongue danced with hers, a slow, deliberate rhythm that stole the last of her breath. She kissed him back with a fierce urgency, her hands sliding down his back, her nails lightly scraping his skin. A low groan rumbled in his chest, a sound that seemed to vibrate through her, and he deepened the kiss even more.
