The night was quiet, the camp settled into a weary but secure peace under a blanket of stars. In Julian's tent, the air was warm and thick with a different kind of energy.
Dori lay beneath him, her small body arching into his touch as they shared a deep, slow kiss. Her lips were inexperienced but eager, and Julian took his time, exploring her mouth with a tenderness reserved only for her. His hands roamed her body with a feather-light touch, tracing the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine, learning the map of her sensitivities. Every sigh she breathed into his mouth, every tremble under his fingertips, was a treasure.
They broke apart, gasping for air, foreheads pressed together. Dori's eyes were hazy with desire, her cheeks flushed in the dim lantern light. "Julian…" she whispered, her voice a soft plea.
