Rosamund
He moved lower. His lips trailed down my stomach, kissing a line from my ribs to my navel, his tongue dipping into the hollow there. His hands slid down my sides and over my hips, his thumbs tracing slow circles on the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, coaxing them apart.
He pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along my inner thigh, each one moving higher, closer, until his breath was fanning directly against my centre and every nerve in my body was pulled taut with anticipation.
"Please," I whispered. I didn't recognise my own voice. "Nevan, please."
