Kate can't remember the last time her heat beat like this, slow, staccato beats, thick with desire. Her skin heats, not just her nipples but her whole breasts tighten and ache. When she opens her eyes, they're so dark there's a glow of light around Imri.

Slow, she reminds herself. She's not going to die from taking this slow. But she might die from blunt force trauma if she falls off the bed from being lightheaded.

"C'mere, Imri," she murmurs against his mouth and draws him down to the bed. Beside her, not over her. Slow. Besides, she could get used to being kissed like this.