He tipped his head back and let out a loose groan as a wave of something hot and heavy washed through him. It wasn't just the feeling of her lips on his neck, the warmth of her breath and the sweet smell of her hair, or what her hands were doing. He couldn't remember anyone saying anything like that to him. Not in that way. He didn't know what to do with it; it sat in front of him like a beautiful but baffling treasure.

So maybe he didn't have to do anything with it. Maybe he didn't have to do anything but slide both his hands down her back, his hips rolling up against her.