Our eyes locked—they’d been otherwise occupied. Her thighs spread to make room for my hips. Her arms spread to make room for the rest of me. Chest to chest. Hip to hip. My hand on my base, thumb on my shaft, crown to her heat. And with a flex, I slid into her until there was no space between us.

I swallowed her sigh with a kiss, held her body down with mine. My arms bracketed her face, my hands in her hair. And I spent a long moment right there, through the thundering of my heart, through the pulse of my body in hers, the echo of hers around mine.

My hips were all that moved.

The slow wave, the shift when I hit the end, the pressure she needed, the depth I craved. The kiss broke when she lost her body to the feeling, her head lolling, eyes pinned shut. She couldn’t move, couldn’t exact pleasure. It was mine to give.

And I wanted to give her everything.

Deeper I drove, kissing what skin I could, breathing into the shell of her ear, tracing the lobe with my tongue. The wave of my body, achingly slow. Deliberate and steady. A deep thrust. Another deeper still. Once more, and she was there, her body tight, her breath shallow.

I lifted my head, pumped my hips, watched her face stretch and brows come together, heard the rasp of my name riding her breath. Felt the flex of her body around mine, so hard and tight. I didn’t pull out, just stayed until the pulse burst through her, drawing me deeper.

The pull was too strong, too deep, my awareness shrinking with every thrust of my hips, my senses retreating. Sight gone with a slam of my lids. Sound nothing beyond the thunder of my heart and the sawing of my breath. Touch slipping from every extremity, rushing to the place where my body met hers.

And with a burst of lightning behind closed lids, I came, hanging onto her like I’d fly away if I let her go.

Her arms were the first thing I registered, twined around my ribs. Then, her fingers, the delicate graze of her fingernails up and down my back. The scent of her hair where my face was buried, lilacs mingling with sweet hay. The fluttering of her pulse under my lips as I kissed the column of her neck.

I rose in search of her lips, kissed her with the slow appreciation I’d given her body. And when I broke away, it was to gaze into her face, reveling in the sight of its smiling form in my hands.

“What have you done to me, Tess?” I asked, searching her eyes. “How did you do it?”

Her smile ticked up on one side. “Well, I have this voodoo doll.”

I laughed.

“No, really. And there’s a shrine in my closet with the standard stuff. You know, some of your hair, red candles, your headshot, some chicken bones.”