“Sean does the sweep of his eyes that he does, the one that goes from my head to my toes and back again and makes me feel that he's scanning the depths of my soul and teasing out my motivations and sins. It's worse than confession with Father Mooneyham. At the end of it, he says, "If you help, this will go faster.”

“Sean does that slow sweep of his eyes that he does, the one that goes from my head to my toes and back again and makes me feel that he's scanning the depths of my soul and teasing out my motivations and sins. It's worse than confession with Father Mooneyham.”

“Then suddenly it's a hot day and we're at my apartment and my dress is off and nobody is saying but. He's not saying slow down. He's looking at me and we can't wait. We can't help ourselves. He's everywhere. He takes my nose, my ear, my whole breast in his mouth. He slides his hand under my arm and between my fingers. He feels the bones down my chest and cups the skin on my stomach. We're on my bed. It's so early that, without any lights, my room is bright and he can see everything. He touches every part of the front of me and then turns me over and touches every part of the back of me. He feels in between my toes. We have sex again and again and again. He's always ready.”

“His dark hair is perfectly recklessly up today, those tanned muscles flexing as he extends out his arms and does his little turn. And here I am, my breath caught between my lungs and my lips as he turns around and scans the crowd. As soon as he spots me, his eyes come alive, as alive as I feel when he smiles at me. He holds my gaze while those dimples flash, and I swear he stares at me in a way that makes me feel that I am the only woman here.”

“Emilia," he says, and when he does, it warms me to my soul. "Every day you save me.”

“Do me a favor,” he whispers, curling my fingers over the back of his and bringing them to his mouth. “What?” His eyes never leave mine as he brushes his lips over my knuckles. “Dream of me tonight,” he says softly. He watches me, waiting for a response. I have no words, so I simply nod. He doesn’t need to know that no one else occupies my dreams. No one. “Dream of my lips, teasing you.” Straightening one of my fingers, he kisses the tip. His voice is like velvet and his words are like an aphrodisiac. “Dream of my tongue, tasting you.” His tongue sneaks out to flick the end of my finger. A surge of desire rocks my core. “And I’ll dream of you. Of what it feels like to be inside your warm, wet body.”