He kissed her — softly, simply, expertly. He kissed her — until her knees turned to jelly and heat invaded her belly. He kissed her — without his tongue, without his hands, without his body. Just his lips — soft, firm, present — on hers. It was the most beautiful kiss she could have ever dreamed of, the most untainted she’d ever imagined from him, with a softness she’d not thought him capable of. With his intensity, with his blazing eyes, the silent promises had been of devouring. This wasn’t devouring. This was savoring.
