He loved all of her: the shape of her lips, her hips, her slender hands and the freckle at the base of her throat. He’d kissed that freckle a thousand times, had spent countless hours learning her, loving her, discovering the desires of her body. It didn’t matter how many nights he’d spent in her arms. Always, in her presence, he felt himself coming apart with a need that felt a great deal like madness.
