Six Sentence Sunday 12/23/12
The feel of her blasted through Reign’s petrified center. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this, human contact. The simple act of touching and being touched. Warmth and the softness of a woman, so long denied, now he feasted.
He buried his face in her mass of curly hair and inhaled jasmine and honey. A moan ripe with longing ripped from his throat and he fitted her lush curves more intimately to him.