As they crossed the threshold and out of reach of the firelight, her desires grew darker. She wanted to keep holding on to him, and let him lead her into these shadows. Prove himself a master at this, as well—acts as primal and instinctual as survival. An oil lamp sat on a shelf at the head of the bed, and he lit it with a match, casting the room in its golden glow. Merry’s body caught fire as their eyes met. Reconstructing the scene from the kitchen floor, they sat face to face on the mattress, her spread legs bent atop his. They held hands, stealing glances at each other. It’d only take the simplest motion for him to rock her onto her back and push his hips brazenly to hers, but she knew he wouldn’t. Whether it was nerves or deference, he’d never make the first move. Fine by Merry. She stroked his hard arms and shoulders, curiosity drawn upward to that fascinating face, full of secrets. She ran her fingertips down the bridge of his nose, traced the lines bracketing his mouth with her thumbs.
