Phei had descended upon her slowly, with reverence, with the full and absolute understanding that what lay before him was not to be consumed but worshipped.
His knees found the mattress, while his hands found her waist, but his mouth — unhurried, deliberate, incandescent with purpose — found the hollow of her throat and began its pilgrimage south.
He kissed her collarbone but the left one first, then the right, his lips tracing the elegant ridge of bone beneath skin so warm it felt febrile.
His right hand rose to her face, thumb brushing her lower lip, and she turned into the touch with closed eyes and parted mouth — kissing his thumb, breathing against it, a soft "Mmm" vibrating from her chest into his palm.
"You're shaking," he murmured.
"I know."
"Do you want me to stop?"
"If you stop... I will kill you."
