We kissed again, and it was so sweet, so pure, that it didn’t seem possible. I hadn’t had a physical experience that could really be called sweet or pure since . . . well, since my mortal days. But this was. And by pure, I didn’t mean nonsexual . . . because my body was definitely awake and yearning for his. But, it was pure in the sense that there were no ulterior machinations here, just our feelings. My love for him was the turn-on, and as his hands ran down my arms and back to my hips, it was the knowledge that it was Seth that made it all so powerful.

His hands carefully moved down to the robe’s tie and undid the knot. He broke the kiss and studied my face as he hesitantly, almost reverently, slipped the robe off me. It hit the floor, and I stepped away from it. Seth moved with me, running his fingers along my arms, leaning down to kiss my neck. I tilted my head back as my own hands began pushing up his T-shirt. When I had it half-way, he paused to push it up the rest of the way.

Then his hands were on my waist once more, sliding down and feeling the curve of my hips. I had on plain cotton panties—sexily cut, at least—and his fingertips traced the edges down along my thighs, every touch soft yet quivering with pent-up energy. I don’t think I was being quite as gentle. I was hungry to touch him, eager as I ran my hands along his chest and the lean muscles of his stomach. I wanted to kiss it and taste it and lose myself in all things Seth.

I began backing up toward my bedroom, and he followed, turning hesitant once we reached the bed and I started to sit. “You can’t . . .” he began.

“I can lie down,” I said, doing exactly that. “I just can’t slam my back down or anything.”

After watching me for a moment, making sure I spoke the truth, Seth took off his jeans and lay down next to me. I rolled slightly to my side, pressing back to him. We resumed kissing, doing no more than that, just letting our nearly bare bodies wrap around each other. Having all this skin touching between us was heady. Never, never had I imagined it could really happen. Our hands explored each other, feeling every line and curve we’d always been denied. Every gesture between us was exquisite. Every caress was a prayer. We regarded each other’s bodies with wonder and joy.

When my hands slipped to the edges of his boxers, I found his own fingers were tugging at my panties. We hardly needed any communication, and once completely naked, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him toward me and seeking the completion with him I’d so long dreamed of.