She cried out his name, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. For every thrust she rose to meet him, equally wrapping her legs around his hips. Dipping her head, she sought his mouth fiercely.
Drunk on the sounds spilling from her parted lips, he leaned down to slam their mouths together in a hungry, passionate kiss, hips easily moving against hers. Losing himself in her gaze, he made love to her on the rug in front of the fireplace, never wanting this moment to end.
Maybe it was the fact that they’d been so long apart. Maybe it was knowing that they couldn’t be parted again. Whatever it was, there was something in the way he made love to her, fierce and tender, somehow both possessive and yielding, that made her burn. Between kisses she named him over and over again, tracing every part of him with her hands.