Summer stumbled backward as Isaac tugged her skirts down, catching herself against the edge of the bed. Every nerve ending sang as he pressed against her once more, and she pushed up to kiss him again and again, licking and nipping at his mouth. She could feel him, hard and wanting, captured between their bodies, and she shifted to rub herself against him. One hand sank into his hair, gripping tight.
Finally, they were naked and pressed together, hips and stomachs and chests sliding against the other as he let out a strangled cry, leaning down to deepen the kiss. She was insatiable, it seemed, and Isaac loved it — he’d felt so close to death that now he needed to feel alive, and he needed to feel close to her too. Breath hitching at the much desired contact, he further deepened the kiss, hand sliding down between their stomachs, his other hand resting on the curve of her spine.
She closed her eyes, feet sliding against his calves, and leaned back just a little, using one hand to brace herself. She slid her fingers down his neck, pausing at the freckles there, before scraping them down over his collarbone. She hitched her hips a little, trying to get closer, wanting him, all of him.