At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet. - Plato
Reaching out, he takes hold of my hands and kisses my fingers. My stomach flips. He eases me down onto the bed beside him, drawing me into his frame and up against his full erection. The mounting tension travels from the top of my head to the bottom of my toes.
"Breathe, Sarah." He kneels on the bed. 'Keep in mind. It is easier to relax when you do not hold your breath.' The mattress shifts under his weight. 'Relax your knees and legs.'
He pries my legs apart and pushes them until my knees are bent. Sliding his body between my legs, he kisses my quivering flesh, and then he makes his way upward. I turn away from him.
"No." He cups my chin. 'Look at me.'
I lock eyes with him. The corners of his lips curl upward into a smile that br
