“In a perfect patch of paradise he stays immobile for an eternity while the predawn breath strokes his skin and kisses each vertebrae down his spine.”

“He puts his arm around me, the lights dancing on his dark skin constantly skipping across to mine, planting a myriad of emotions into each pore as if preparing my heart for tilling.”

“What's it like feeling the smooth heat of that arm, tracing the supernatural muscles bunched in his arms and chest, teasing anyone with a pulse and hormones to lick their way down the divots and planes of that skin, to unbutton the leather shielding his body and taste all the way down to that silver buckle on his belt.”

“He's lighting up my life and I don't even know his name. He's already perfect.”

“Aye,” he smiles, joy igniting in his stormy gray eyes, stroking my hand possessively as if unwilling to let me go for fear I am nothing more than a hallucination about to wear off.”

“Pushing himself off the bed in a violent thrust, his lats widen like wings down his sides, where his waistcoat is open halfway to his waist to accommodate muscular builds, he indicates the gilded cage with outstretched arms. Showing off his supreme musculature, he says, “We have forever Phoebe.”

“Oh baby, your planet sounds like paradise but it just doesn't fly down here in the trenches.”