Somehow doing that made everything brighter, sharper, more intense. Her body wanted to arch up to meet his, but Sophie held herself flat, let him take her in his own sweet time. She always acted – always did – and in this instance she wanted to just be. It was almost laughable. Her Zen sex approach. But something in this man inspired her to let him do it his way. To experience what he was offering. His hands found her wrists and he braced himself there. Holding her down but also touching her. He had her trapped, in a sense, and yet the touch felt more of an embrace than anything. It stole her breath. When she gasped from it, he found her mouth with his and kissed her, his tongue still tasting of his sweetened green tea. ‘I love that sound you make.’ He chuckled. A half grin played across his handsome face. She knew it only because her eyelids kept refusing to stay shut. ‘It’s because –’ She broke off her statement as Tate rotated his hips a bit to the left, paused, shifted to the right.
