Rane’s fingertips bit into her waist as her hands became bolder, kneading him. He forgot to breathe until his lungs screamed for air and when she placed her palm against the warm length of him, he forgot why he even needed to breathe. Skye held him, relishing the strong feel of him. She touched him softly, barely gliding her hand over his rib cage, up the wall of his chest before cupping his cheek. Her eyes met his and she knew then that this was the man that she loved. Rane’s hand slid up her thigh until he touched her at the center of her being. His fingers curled against her and he whispered to heated words in her ear as his palm opened to touch her, heat against heat. Skye whispered his name and arched toward him. And then they were pressed body to body, skin to skin, her breasts flattened against his chest, the heaviness of his sex resting against her thigh and still he simply held her, his hands ghosting up and down her spine. Skye pressed her lips against the side of his neck and lifted her hips in invitation. Rane cupped her buttocks and held her close to him. He tipped his head back, met her gaze and smiled. She closed her eyes as his head descended. His lips touched hers, caressed, then pulled away. It was at that exact moment when Rane slipped his body inside hers. He caught the gasp on her lips with another kiss and slowly began to move, guiding her gently toward the edge. Her arms tightened around his shoulders, her hands flexing against his muscles. The kiss intensified, perfectly in tune with their bodies. Rane held her hips, but he held her body just as easily with his own. The strokes were long, deliciously teasing and maddeningly powerful, driving her toward the peak and then retreating, allowing her to catch her breath. And when she was close to pleading, to begging for the end, he drove into her repeatedly pushing, pounding and carrying her with him toward release.
