Rowley had never been kissed like this in his life. It felt as though Clem was learning his mouth, applying that dogged determination to get it right, agonisingly slow. It crossed Rowley’s mind that every part of lovemaking with Clem might be this slow, every inch of skin needing to be thoroughly explored and committed to memory. It might take weeks of patient waiting, and blood rushed to his groin so hard at that realisation that his knees almost buckled.
