. . SONG OF SOLOMON 8:7 Shaking, Matthew rested on his heels. He stared down at the beautiful vision of Patience. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, and a blushing glow tinted her high cheekbones. He’d worked her hard. But it had all been to her benefit, for he had seen the totality of her surrender in her eyes, observed it in her straining body, and felt it in the enthusiasm with which she gave of her wet, succulent mouth. But he wanted more than her mouth. Leaning forward, he stroked her bright curls back from her forehead. Her lashes fluttered, then she lifted her vivid eyes to him. Still sparkling with unshed tears, they were full of peaceful and submissive adoration. His chest filled with a deep and primeval pride. Soon. Soon she would be incapable of refusing him anything. He would take her virginity, and he would take her hand. And most importantly, he would take her heart. Yes, her heart was what he wanted most of all. Reaching down, he clasped her hand. Drawing it to his lips, he kissed the soft, fragrant skin over her pulse.
