There was no rush to it, no frantic urgency or hunger clawing against the walls of restraint.
What moved between Phei and Melissa in the dim sanctuary of her bedroom was something quieter than desire; something that transcended the frantic, consuming encounters that had defined so much of his catalogue of women.
This was not conquest or even seduction but the slow, deliberate unravelling of two souls stripping each other of everything that was not essential, and discovering — beneath the silk and the armor and the decade of accumulated sorrow — that what remained was enough.
More than enough:
'Everything.'
They stood in the center of her bedroom, mouths tangled, his arms cradling her weight against him as though she were something spun from filament and faith.
