He toured her body with rapid but thorough kisses, while she explored the contours and angles of his. Within minutes, they were face-to-face, him on top, staring into each other’s eyes in the dimly lit room.

He flexed, and she moaned, welcoming him inside, arching her back, wrapping her legs, as he set an insistent rhythm that made her head tip back and her eyes close tight. Desire overwhelmed her, and she gripped the comforter, straining for his kisses, her toes curling as he inflamed the passion at her core.

Time lost all meaning. Her body felt somehow weightless. Reality contracted to the feel, the scent and the sound of this man. His ragged breath murmured in her ear. His damp body scorched her skin. And she dragged his essence into her lungs, holding it tight, imprinting it on her subconscious so she could relive it over and over again.

She held on as long as she could, not wanting it to end. But it was a losing battle. A pulse began deep inside her, building to a tidal wave of ecstasy. She clung tightly to him, her cries mingling with his groans, as she crested for an eternity, the intense rush leaving her limp and gasping.

Her chest rose and fell against Lucky’s comfortable weight. He braced himself on his elbows, rising slightly above her, sweat glistening his brow, breath fanning from between his parted lips.

They stared at each other in silence.

“That was…” His breathless voice trailed away.

She was similarly struggling for words. “It was,” she agreed.

His smile widened. “Somehow we both seem to know just the right thing to say.”

A small chuckle formed in her chest. “What do you usually say?”

He smoothed her hair behind one ear. “I have no comparables. You have no comparables. You are one of a kind, Doll-Face.”

“That was an awfully good line,” she acknowledged.

“It wasn’t a line.”

They both fell silent, their breathing synchronizing.